author.speaker.survivor
Life is difficult. Hope and healing through Jesus Christ are possible. Join me as we navigate this perilous journey together.

All I wanted was to grow up, move away from my parents, and be on my own. Then, during my first year of college, an event helped me realize that being an adult isn’t as fun as I had thought. The event—the flu.   I was sick, and I needed my mother. Yet, she was nowhere in sight. Everything was up to me. The used tissues. The soup bowl with the crusted-on noodles. And worst of all, I had to clean up my own vomit. As I lay in my dorm room bed, I threw myself a party—a pity party. I didn’t...read more

My mom wedged herself into the small bathroom next to my eight-year-old self. “Stretch your leg out,” she said. I groaned. Scrapes and road burns decorated my leg as it dangled over the tub. At least I hadn’t ruined another pair of pants. “Ready? It’s going to hurt, but just for a bit.” I gripped the toilet lid and nodded. She poured. The peroxide bubbled around my gravel encrusted knee and ran off the sides of my leg and into the tub. Tears shone in Mom’s eyes....read more

The girl hurled the words from the open window. “Rat’s nest, rat’s nest.” I faced the school bus. The doors closed, and the girl smirked at me. As the vehicle crested the hill, the words echoed in my ears and lodged in my heart. I could have yelled back, “Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never…” Yet, as an eight-year-old, I knew the truth. Words hurt. I should have ignored her, like my mom told me to. Instead, I ran up the hill, into my house, and...read more