Beginnings: A Childhood of Change
I wanted to share a little of my story with you not because I think I’m particularly fascinating, but because I believe in the power of redemption. And if my life proves anything, it’s that God is in the business of taking the broken and making it whole.
I was born in the early 1960s, a time when my parents were neither hippies nor political activists. They were just two people with their own baggage, trying to make life work. My father is second-generation Scottish on his dad’s side and English on his mom’s, while my mother is second-generation Italian on both sides (which meant food was a love language and emotions were never subtle). Their marriage didn’t last, and by the time I was five, they had separated permanently.
I don’t remember much about my parents being together, but what I do remember clearly and fondly is the love and stability I found with my maternal grandparents, Frank and Josie. They were my safe harbor.
My grandfather had a way of making life feel light, even when it wasn’t. He’d take my brother and me on little adventures, always finding a way to turn an ordinary day into something special. My grandmother, on the other hand, was the queen of structure; tough but loving, and the reason I never went to bed hungry.
When I was born, I had two grandmothers and three great-grandmothers, a whole council of wise, strong women keeping an eye on me. Only one lived to see me into adulthood, but their influence shaped me in ways I still carry today.
Growing Up: Hard Lessons and New Struggles
If my childhood had some bright spots, my adolescence was, let’s call it complicated. My mother remarried when I was eight years old, not because she was swept off her feet, but because family expectations nudged her into it. That marriage was, to put it mildly, disastrous. My stepfather was an alcoholic with a troubled past, and our home became a place of fear and instability. I won’t dwell on the details, but let’s just say I learned early on that life doesn’t always play fair.
By 14, I had dropped out of high school, convinced that education wasn’t for me. (Spoilers alert: I would later change my mind.) At 19, I did what a lot of young people do when they want to escape a difficult home life, I got married. My husband was ten years older than me, and I thought marriage would be my ticket to stability and love. Together, we had four children; our first son, followed 15 months later by identical twin daughters (yes, you read that correctly), and then another son two years after that. Life was busy, chaotic, and often exhausting.
Because I had no diploma, my job options were limited, so I worked a string of low-paying jobs to help make ends meet. My husband also struggled to find steady work, and financial struggles defined much of our marriage. Looking back, we were two people with our own childhood wounds, trying to build something stable without the tools to do so.
Despite everything, our marriage lasted 23 years. There was genuine love, fondness, and compassion between us. But love alone doesn’t heal old wounds, and neither of us was truly equipped for the weight of marriage.
A New Chapter: Remarriage and Personal Growth
After our marriage ended, I eventually remarried. This second marriage has lasted 18 years though I’d be lying if I said it’s been smooth sailing. Marriage, no matter how much love is there, takes work, patience, and a whole lot of prayer. (And sometimes, a well-timed snack can prevent an unnecessary argument.) But through every high and low, I see God’s hand at work.
Somewhere along the way, I also decided to go back to school and further my education. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was determination, or maybe it was just wanting to prove to myself that I could. But I did it. And while it was intimidating to sit in a classroom later in life, I can honestly say it was one of the best decisions I ever made.
Heartache and Healing: The Loss of My Son
Then, five years ago, my life was shaken to its core. My oldest son, Aaron, died suddenly. There is no pain like the loss of a child. It’s a grief that reaches down into the deepest part of your soul and tries to convince you that you will never feel whole again. There were days I didn’t think I’d survive it. Days I didn’t want to. The world kept spinning, but mine had stopped.
I don’t share this for sympathy I share it because grief is a road so many walk, and I want to testify to the only thing that has carried me through: God’s grace.
There are still moments when the weight of Aaron’s absence feels unbearable. But I have come to trust that God is still good, even in this. His presence is what allows me to keep moving forward. His promises are what remind me that this life is not the end of the story.
The Transforming Power of Faith
Now, I don’t share all of this to play the world’s smallest violin for myself. I share it because if you had told me years ago that at 60, my life would be taking a turn for the better, I might have laughed (or cried, depending on the day). And yet, here I am.
And I can tell you it’s not because I found a guru, started meditating, or read a life-changing self-help book (though I have nothing against deep breathing and good advice). The reason my life is changing, the reason I have more clarity, the reason I’m learning to regulate my emotions and act with wisdom, the reason I have hope is….GOD.
My testimony is this: life has not been perfect. It hasn’t been as hard as some people’s, but it certainly hasn’t been easy. And yet, despite everything, I love a God who has allowed me to endure trials. That confuses some people. They ask, What kind of loving Father lets His child suffer? That’s the question so many use to justify not believing in God. But here’s what I’ve come to understand. God never promised us a life without pain. He promised to walk with us through it.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:2
Looking Forward: A Life of Purpose
Looking back, I see now that God was with me in every season, even when I didn’t recognize it. He took a broken, directionless girl and shaped her into someone who finally understands peace, not because life magically got easier, but because I finally surrendered my life to Him.
This is my testimony: I was lost, but now I am found. I was broken, but now I am whole. I was drowning, and He pulled me up.
There are people who have known me through my messiest years. People who could testify against me if they wanted to and let’s be real, some probably would). But here’s the thing: even they can’t deny that I’m different now. I have peace. I have joy. I am healthier not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually.
If anyone from my past wants to come forward and air out my mistakes, I say go for it! Because every failure, every flaw, every poor decision I’ve made only highlights the power of God.
And for that, I will never stop giving Him praise.
Oh, and one more thing, both of my parents are still with us, now 84 years old. If you had asked me as a child what life would look like at this stage, I never would have guessed we’d all still be here, still figuring things out, still walking this journey. But God’s timing is His own, and I am grateful for every extra day we have.
Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new is here! Corinthians 5:17
Blessings ❤️
Brown Study and Wool-Gathering 