The Story That Built My Life 
in Christ

I was born in the metropolis of Portland, Oregon and lived my first 11 years in the Northwest.  The majority of the time, we lived in a little unsuspecting town near Vancouver, Washington; population around 450.  La Center had no traffic lights and is still known for its endless fields, mountainous terrain, and giant Douglas Fir trees - along with casinos.

 

My life was about to change drastically, and that country town was about to become the place that held the memory of my pain; my family's pain. What should have been a typical Sunday turned into a disturbing and life-shaking truth exposed.  In mere moments my family was dismantled and like an avalanche, that exposure crushed everyone in its path.

 

We were on our way to church, but first needed to pick up my older sister; she had stayed over night while babysitting for my mom’s best friend.  During her stay, through a lot of tearful conversation, she shared that my father had been sexually abusing her for years…including threatening her with death if she ever told (he actually told her he would kill all of us and start with the littlest).  I cannot imagine the fear and utter grief for not only my sister, but our friend who called the police and made the unimaginable report.  I recently visited with that friend again and after 31 years, thanked her for saving my life and my family.  There's no telling how this could have unravelled if the truth had never been told.

 

I can still see the walkway up to our friend's house and my mom taking those familiar steps, just like she had a hundred times before.  When my mom reached the door, police cars came around the corner with lights on, surrounded our car, and arrested my father.  I thank God for how they did it - they kept us safe as they were swift and resolute.  I now can see how everything they did was calculated - they wanted to make sure he had no opportunity to harm any of us.  The officers maintained their composure as my little sister and I sobbed, “Don't take my daddy.”  I can still see the look of horror on my father’s face as he denied the charges like a broken record, “I didn’t do it.  I didn't do it."  

 

My mom came out of the back room with investigators, dazed and somber.  Somehow she had the strength to stay calm as she filled us in, “Your dad confessed — and it’s true.” My father, now known as a criminal — had stollen 9 precious years of my sister’s childhood.  She was coming up on 16 years old, my brother was 14, I was almost 10, and little sis almost 8.  My older brother and sister are from my mom’s first marriage…but to me — they were always 100% my siblings.  

​

I sat outside on the curb beside the police station and wondered how my tears would ever stop?  The pain felt impossible to overcome.

 

The backstory on my relationship with my father is that I wanted to be just like him; tall, skinny, and a great singer with a big voice.  I was absolutely “daddy’s girl.”  I would wake up at 4am on Sunday mornings to go to Toast Masters with my dad (he was learning to be a public speaker so he could be a minister).  I also attended much of his college days as he became a physicist; you should have seen my collection of used chalk that the professors gave me over time.  I remember those long classes…as boring as they were, I never cared because I was with “him”…and I adored him.  

 

Our family lived a simple life and small things, even used chalk, meant a lot.  To give some perspective, we would regularly go to the “free place” where we could get bread, beans, flour, used socks, and used underwear (going to places like this gave me a deep sense of shame for my existence and poverty...God is still working to heal me in the area of 'receiving' as that it one of the hardest things for me to do).  Because our well was dry — for 6 years our family of 6 hauled water across the wide field between our home and our neighbor's house.  In a little red wagon, we would lug those weighty water jugs…but the water never stretched far enough.  We would all bathe in the same water in a silver mixing bowl that my mom would set in a tub.  To me, life seemed hard.  We didn’t have much and I was aware of it, but what brought me the most profound sense of belonging and worth was my relationship with my dad…and time was the way I built on that.  

 

The trauma of losing a father suddenly would be hard on anyone.  I know my siblings and I were all different in our responses but for me, it was and still is my greatest loss.  I not only lost my dad; I lost my family.  My 10th birthday was just a little over a month after his arrest.  I wept that night in my bed feeling completely abandoned; a tearful expression of profound and unchangeable grief.  I remember saying, “It would have been easier if he had died a good man, than to be the person he is and leave us under these circumstances.”  I carried shame for his sin and feelings of rejection for years.  Sometimes I still have to deal with with feelings of rejection in places where it hides.

 

My older sister was now in the care of the state and became a runaway on the streets of Portland, OR.  I was constantly fearing that she would be killed and suffer even more pain than she had already known.  It was a long season of mental torment and seclusion - for all of us. 

 

Many longtime friends and even leadership at church were unhelpful…I don’t know that they knew how to help this kind of pain and suffering.  It’s hard to know what to say to people in uncharted waters…and I can’t blame them for that.  In some significant ways, our church failed us...but the most important lesson I ever learned came from that and I give my mom the credit for teaching us; never place any human on a pedestal, and those in the church will fail us.  They are not God, and not perfect.  In other words, expect people will let you down, and forgive them when they do.

​

Though, I do have to say - there was a man at our church who is still so highly regarded by me; he and his family were there.  He helped us with a car; he helped us in every way possible…and he loved me right where I was.  He didn’t run the other direction when I was around, in fact, I spent a large portion of my life at their home as his little girl was and still is one of my best friends.  I'll forever see him as a beacon of hope in Christ when all seemed at a loss.

​

I was deathly shy and hard to reach.  I wouldn’t talk.  I wouldn’t dare talk!  No one could know the depth of pain I was experiencing…I was embarrassed and like I said before — carried shame.  I was determined to hold it all in as that was the only thing I had in my control.  I thank God Almighty for giving me a voice to sing and lyrics from real places…music saved my life in a lot of ways.  God knows what we need, and I needed to be able to express myself at some point openly…but that would take decades.  In the meantime, I privately expressed my feelings as I sang myself through the sadness and little hope I had for my life.

 

On June 23rd, 1993, just a little over a year after the arrest, I was baptized by my faithful, Uncle Gary (my father’s brother who has remained one of the best men I’ve ever known and a father-figure to me).  I knew I needed forgiveness for my own sins and I wanted do life with Jesus - but I was terrified of being in front of people, so I was baptized with only a few there to witness.  The Lord was going to have to be my dad now…and I was determined to not live as a phony, like my father.  You see, I went from wanting to be just like him, to wanting to be nothing like him.  I believe this is why for years I experienced panic attacks while singing…sometimes I still do…I let my curled up hands grasp the mic stand and just hang on until I can let go and get them to my pockets or sides to not bring attention to them.

 

As time went on, I began to piece together things I had seen; things that I questioned but felt guilty for questioning (internally that is).  My memories were vivid and undeniable.  My dad had never been mean or cruel to me except for when he caught me looking in grocery bags he forbid me to look into and knew I saw the beer he was hiding…and when I caught him in the woods with a shovel and manila envelope.  One of the worst memories was him throwing my brother up against a wall, while my cousin and I hid under a small bench in the kitchen, fearfully watching it all.  I remember that night, I was crying in my upper bunk; hiding from him.  He came in and told me that he had to do that or he would go to hell for being a bad father and not disciplining his children.  It made no sense to me that that was how God wanted us to treat our children.  That was Holy Spirit already doing His work to reveal Truth to me.  

 

Now, those little questions were answered with something I didn’t think was “really” possible.  I was filled with fear of what my family’s life would look like now.  Not long after my father’s arrest, my brother went to foster care.  It was another trauma and fear-generator…what was next for my little sis and me?  My heart ached for my brother and I wanted to rescue him from the nightmare he was living in. 

 

We were stalked and harassed by someone in our little town that was once a friend.  She wanted to get custody of my little sister and me for money from the state, and continually perpetuated lies.  She posted news stories of my father all over our little town to publicize and magnify our suffering...my mom would rip them all down when she saw them. 

 

My mother’s days (as well as ours) were filled with the court systems and legal documents, attorneys…and every other hellish thing you can think of.  More importantly, God was there...quiet...but there.  I know that now.

​

My father was sentenced to prison for 111 years.  He was charged with 10 counts out of the 17 brought against him and was to serve 11 years for each one.  It was considered one of the worst sexual abuse cases ever seen in the state of Washington.

 

For several months we lived in Los Angeles with my Uncle Gary and Aunt Barbara.  They gave us the time of our lives and those core memories are forever etched as some of the happiest times of my life...I felt safe, seen, and very loved.  I know my little sis felt the same.  The state of Washington forced them to send us back to the state, and I just learned my uncle even sought legal council to find a way around it.  He told me that walking us out on the tarmac and sending us back on that plane was one of the hardest things he'd ever done.  I had no idea.  We also stayed for months with our grandparents just a few miles from the border of Canada.  My mom wanted us far away if they tried to take us from her.  She was doing all she could to protect us...and I can't imagine her own suffering in this.

​

Eventually, my mom had some of our 7 acres of beautiful Douglas Fir trees cut down for money to pay back my father’s college education.  It was the right thing for her to do, but seeing those larger-than-life trees I had played under for so many years in a heap, caused more sadness.  There they were — lying in our massive field where I often picked daisies, blackberries, and 4-leaf clovers.  It was one more change.  The sky was so open there now…It wasn’t the acreage I remembered…and life wasn’t ever going to go back to what it was.  

 

As the emotional trauma stacked up, my mother did the only thing she felt she could do; she sold our double-wide trailer on 7 acres in La Center, Washington, and moved to where she originally grew up - Maryland.  We had hope that maybe it would be better there, but leaving my sister, brother, and best friends thousands of miles away, naturally caused more pain and greater loss for all of us. 

​

My mom’s sister and brother-in-law were our first “safe place” in our new city, and I am forever grateful for the impact they have made in my life.   They took us in and helped us get to our feet.  My late Uncle Ian, through time and him cultivating a loving and sweet relationship with me, taught me how to trust him and I gained a second father figure.  This relationship would prove to be one of the most important relationships of my life in regard to my own inner healing.  I thank God for my two Uncles who have given me their time, love, and never-ending support.  I needed good, godly men in my life, and they were God's answer for me.  I can't leave this here though, each of their wives have greatly impacted my life as well.  My Aunt Barbara and Aunt Marti are still pouring into my life and helping me walk through the hard things.  What a gift from God to have their love and support - and especially wisdom to glean from.

 

Life in Maryland was hard.  My little sister and I were very aware that money was scarce, but what hurt us most was being bullied by kids in school.  Things were thrown at us; cruel words and lies about us were perpetuated.  I remember standing up on the bus numerous times screaming at the kids in the back to stop making fun of my sister.  Probably the only time I was courageous was when it came to protecting her.  I couldn't stand the pain of seeing her cry.

 

Once I was shoved in my chair across a room (I was just sitting there…and a girl walked up and pushed me as hard as she could, sending me and my chair the opposite direction by several feet…I literally didn’t respond and just continued to stay completely still for fear I would make her upset with any move I made).  I had constant fear I would be beat up by a few of the girls I would pass in the halls and still another one of my “friends” at that school told me that they all knew I got free lunches and that I was poor because my dad was in prison.  I stopped eating lunch almost that entire year…I literally went hungry.  I was ashamed that the other kids knew I didn’t have much.  Sometimes I would bring an apple from home and eat that for lunch.  For years we walked through the agony of our public school days. 

 

In the midst of that, my mom met my first step-dad…he brought more turmoil and disappointment into our lives; a whole other world of trauma.  He was a regular drug abuser, thief, smuggler, and adulterer - not that my mom anticipated him to be.  He was supposedly "recovered" and she met him in church.  While they were married, we only knew of his drug abuse...I would often look out the window at night waiting for him to come home...and he would be gone until the next morning or at times, a couple of days.  We learned after they divorced (right when I turned 18) about the adultery, drug smuggling, and plans to kill my mother.  

​

I'm grateful to tell you she now is married to a good man who loves her and loves the Lord.  That means more than anything.  

​

Insert here - my best friend, Seth, whom I’ve been married to now for 22 years.  Wow.  God knew I would need someone that would never lay a hand on me, and would go the distance of time - no matter the struggles.  He and I had no idea and still don’t, as to how life will go.  Neither one of us had real college education other than some courses, and we’ve lived financially broke most of our marriage, even though all throughout our first decade together, we both worked 2-3 jobs at one time.  With 22 years under our belt, we've walked through some unspeakably hard things and by a miracle, kept our marriage in tact.  Truly, God’s presence in our marriage is what saved it over and over.

​

20 years after my father's arrest, Seth encouraged me and sat by me as I called my father to forgive him.  Seth has cheered me on as I pursued my dreams in music and believed in the purposes God has laid out for me.  He has been a gift from God to me and he's fought right alongside me all the way.  I treasure his faithfulness.  

Seth and I welcomed our firstborn son, Foster, in April of 2013.  Eager to experience this new life of parenthood after 11 years of marriage, our hope for this little boy’s future was quickly becoming fear for his future.  Something was really wrong with his health…and it took almost a year to nail it down.  

 

When he was 6 months old, I left my job at the church so I could care for him full-time.  We couldn’t afford for me to do that — at all, but Seth had just gotten a “little bit better” paying job with a new company, so we felt God was making a way for us.  Honestly, we didn’t feel like we had a choice…Foster needed me with him at all times.  Who else was going to clean up piles of vomit and monitor his health on a daily basis?  It was critical that I was with him, and I was willing to give up whatever I needed to for him to be well again. 

 

While our bills would barely be covered - we trusted we could make it on a lean budget, per our usual.  As Foster continued to have more health issues, Seth’s 3 month stint at his new job was abruptly ended on January 3rd…the company let several people go.  We realized they had hired him (and others) as a “Christmas help manager” to help them solidify over-seas investors that were regularly coming into the store.  It was and is a corrupt company.  There we were…no job, endless bills, and a sick baby.

 

Seth struggled to find his way…jobs were much harder to find in Nashville a decade ago…he looked into everything, and eventually, one low paying job after another, he was really discouraged.  It was a literal nightmare and we both struggled with severe depression and suicidal ideation, but didn’t talk about it…I don’t think we knew how at the time.  

 

During that season, we weren’t tied closely to a church as we had left the one I had been working at and wanted to help minister more to the lost people at another church (yes you heard me, lost people at a church - there are a lot of them, but this is a different story for a different time).  We were early in our connection with this new church so we didn’t have a foundation there yet.  We felt so alone, though God used all of this to grow us and change us.  After endless doctor visits, and endless prayers - Foster received a miraculous healing.  I will share the video that simplifies that part of the story.  God did a major thing in our lives and we will forever be grateful - Foster was HEALED.  This was a major life-change and we have never stopped feeling the weight of this blessing.  

 

Shortly after Foster’s healing, we prayed and fasted and felt strongly there was no other way but to sell our home to make it.  At first, we explored just getting a cheaper home locally, but decided that Florida would be our next move.  Florida was a place for healing and a new beginning for us.  It was beautiful.  We call it our one year vacation, though it wasn’t a vacation at all financially, as we weren’t able to get completely debt free even with the sale of our home, Seth was still struggling to make enough.  That is a hard place to live for so long.  

 

More prayer and fasting…and a list of the pro’s and con’s of Florida vs. Tennessee living.  We had an answer - Nashville was our Ninevah and we needed to go back and finish what God had for us there.  It’s not that Florida was a mistake…the relationships we developed in that one short year there, have become relationships of a lifetime.  Many relationships!  And we forever feel that Florida has a part of us and our history.  It was what God wanted for us, for a time.  I guess my best advice for people is to seek the will of God and don’t be afraid of how He moves you physically or otherwise throughout your life.  He will use ALL of it.

 

We moved back to Tennessee only to discover an outrageous increase in cost of living that has only gone up, up, up!  Seth’s job back in Nashville - once again, was a financial failure.  The next job had the same outcome…disappointment after disappointment…but God.  Seth finally landed a better paying job.

​

During this time we lived for 9 months in our friend's tiny house (an adorable little shed in the country).  God stirred our hearts often in this little house.  One night while we were sitting on the "tiny porch," we were looking up at the night sky and admiring the stars, I looked at Seth and said, "if we really believe He is Who He says He is...we need to live our lives radically different."  He agreed.  We weren't doing anything wrong, but God gave us an awareness that the things of this world were fading...and the glamorous life we desired was an utter waste of time and effort.  

​

Eventually, after moving several times, buying property to build on, having the build fall through multiple times, we finally settled on a sweet little house that we call home.  Our second son, River, was born in the middle of 2020...and we thought maybe just maybe, we were finally going to get our footing in life.

​

After a few years of Seth working with this new company we realized - while it paid better than his former jobs, it took everything out of him.  Many times waking at 2:45am and not returning until 7pm, I was afraid this job was killing him.  His breathing at night was crazy - to the point where his exhales would shake our bed forcefully.  I kept telling him he needed to get help with his sleep apnea but he didn’t feel like we had the money for more medical bills and he never felt he could take a day off work to address his health.  I would try talking with him when he got home from work or on the weekends - you know, just about life and living, and he would pass out the entire time.  I was beginning to feel frustrated and angry with him because it seemed he could make energy for everything but his family at home.  I was wrong.  And in a few months time, I would learn that Seth was literally dying.  

​

April 2021 - Seth fell asleep at the wheel while driving us home from a dinner date…I remember screaming to wake him up.  It was then he told me he had been drinking 5 energy drinks or more a day to stay awake driving, but was passing out at the wheel multiple times a day, every day.  A lot of times driving hundreds of miles a day, in those big delivery trucks.  I gave him an ultimatum - either he stays home that Monday and calls a doctor - or I’m leaving.  I knew I wouldn’t leave but he needed help and that was the most dramatic thing I could say to get him to prioritize his health for our children’s sake and mine.  Even as I write this I can feel those feelings of tremendous fear well up.  The year prior to that I remember every morning walking from the boys’ room (I slept with River in there to nurse him through the night) - and every morning as I walked I would wait to hear him breathe a loud breath and then feel relieved…he was still alive.  I had fear of him dying since before River was born.  

 

The sleep doctors said his numbers were off the charts.  He had mixed sleep apnea with 79.4 obstructions on average per hour! More than 30 per hour is severe.  Early June 2021 - Seth tells me he can’t breathe.  He feels like he’s going to pass out when carrying things for work - but “can’t take off work because they don’t have anyone to cover.”  He was always afraid he would lose his job from the traumatic experience he’d had with that one job loss (again, that was not his fault).  That still breaks my heart as I know, if he had felt like he could take care of himself before his job, he wouldn’t be sick today.

 

After many tests, and a lung biopsy of what they thought was for sure lung cancer…we turned a different direction and Seth was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  His heart was incredibly weak and damaged beyond repair.  All those symptoms were making sense now.  Little River had just turned 1 when he was finally diagnosed and Foster was 8.  Everything got harder from there.  They placed an ICD/pacemaker in him (a shocking device in case he goes into a deadly arrhythmia + it regularly paces his heart).  He went back to work 3 days after that surgery, even though his doctor asked him to take 6 weeks to heal.  The fear of losing his job was very real and he felt he had to go.  It certainly didn't help that his boss was now saying things like "everyone's pulling your weight around here."  Prior to that he was their shining star and everyone's hero...but when he couldn't do the physical grunt work of 3 jobs in one, the climate changed.

​

Seth continued to have other serious symptoms which lead to more tests by specialists.  Only to find he had a severe spinal cord injury to his neck from overworking that area of his body with his job, and was experiencing tremendous neurological pain and deficits that scared him every single day. 

 

Fast forward to another surgery, and then a decline of his heart yet again.  We realized Seth couldn’t return to work at that point and filed for long term disability.  I praise God we had signed up for that - or else we would have lost everything.  Seth started going to a new clinic at that time called the Advanced Heart Failure Clinic.  They gave us much better help and after a 5 day hospital stay, things have seemed to be more stable with his new meds.  His symptoms are every day.  He has severe fatigue, chest pain that comes and goes, oxygen levels that drop in the 80's, trouble breathing, dizziness with black outs (not passing out but where everything goes black and his head tingles)…every single day.  It’s not easy.  Not being able to do the things he once did to provide for his family or even basic things around the house that were once no problem, make it all the more challenging.

​

While this has been a summary of "hard things," there's been a lot of good, too.  And I thank God for that.  Even so it's important to acknowledge that these painful experiences are what made me able to relate to others and have compassion.  They've prepared me for a purpose that is far beyond my own benefit. 

 

Your hard experiences have done the same...they've prepared you and made you able to understand the suffering of others.  My desire is to help other believers move forward in their lives, becoming effective ministers of the gospel (wherever God has them).   Whether it's through songs, sharing my testimony, or speaking on other topics...I'm here and open to whatever the Lord has for me.

 

I know it may not have been a fun or easy read, so I thank you for caring enough to keep on.  I think the most important takeaway could be this: the Lord's allowance of suffering can be our greatest opportunity for spiritual growth and maturity in Christ - trust Him with your suffering and then let Him use it for good.  

​

Before I go -  I want to share the second most important thing my mom ever taught me: hate the sin, not the sinner.  Remember that as you work through the challenges you face.  And know God has something so much better for you than to hold on to hurt.

 

So this is where we are…there is so much unsaid - but I guess all of us would have that experience if we tried to narrow our lives down to a few paragraphs.  I am saying “yes” to God’s purpose for my life and we are doing what we can to build a business from home so Seth can take part in something not only that he loves, but can feel like he’s a part of contributing again.  He wants to LIVE.   And I do, too.  Disability like this affects the entire home, and it has certainly taken its toll.  But we’ve also seen and felt the goodness of God in the most powerful and profound ways - more than ever before in our lives.  We've experienced financial and physical blessings from being in fellowship.  Yes!  We have so much to be thankful for.  Even on the hardest days, we praise Him!  He is good.  He is faithful.  He is our Father and our provider.