I didn’t grow up in a loving home, and I only went to church with my grandparents. I only went with them because it meant I got to spend the night at their house (my safe place) on Saturday night. I had my first encounter with Jesus in about 6th grade, and sadly it was on my knees in the back of my childhood home praying for the fighting to stop, at least for a minute. It was my first instinct and my last resort. My prayer was answered, and silence fell. After this, I never really committed to Jesus. I just lived my life the way any “normal” pre-teen would.
High school was rough for me. I moved around a lot and went to a total of four schools over the four years—three in one year. I got bullied my freshman year and had nobody to lean on other than my grandparents. I moved to San Antonio before my sophomore year. This was a good spot for me. I joined the cross-country team, made friends, and led Bible studies in my home for my team. I even had a crush on a boy that never knew I existed (wait for the end of the story). This whole time, my faith was only lukewarm. I was engaging in addicting behaviors and battling severe depression and anxiety and an eating disorder.
My grandpa, my best friend and the most important person in my life, got sick at the end of my sophomore year, and we decided to move back to Kingsville, the town I grew up in. I had lost all faith at this point. This was the lowest point in my life. I got bullied at a new school and tried to end my life. My grandpa was still sick, and I started online school, so my days consisted of caretaking and napping. I tried to end my life again. All of my faith was gone. I couldn’t see a world in which a God would let me watch the man who raised me wither away right in front of me while I had nobody. I no longer wanted to live like this.
Dec. 20th of 2023, I watched my grandpa take his last breath. I felt Jesus in the room that night but didn’t think anything of it. I figured all the talk about my grandpa being scared about not making it into heaven had gotten in my head, and I was imagining it. My life came to a standstill after this. I had nothing to live for, no friends, a hole in my life where my grandpa was supposed to be, and stuck in a tiny town where everyone hated me.
My parents moved me back to San Antonio at the end of my junior year, and I joined Young Life. I had no idea what I was in for. I went to a week-long camp in a different state without knowing anybody else that was going. At this camp, I realized my grandpa for sure made it into heaven and I needed to turn my life around if I ever wanted to see him again. I found Jesus Christ and rededicated my life to him at this camp. I came home, and I asked God to send me someone to do the whole “Christian Thing” with, someone who could guide me and be a good person to have in my corner. A few weeks later, the boy I had a crush on sophomore year—and the same boy I had prayed about—messaged me. Surprise, surprise: his name is JD Pease.
Senior year didn’t come without its struggles. I had still been battling an eating disorder and severe depression. I made the decision to get baptized at the end of my senior year and made a promise to myself: “No matter how bad it gets, I will keep fighting.” I graduated high school without my favorite person in the stands and moved away to college.
I fell deep into my eating disorder, and my organs started to shut down. I was placed in the hospital and put on a feeding tube and confined to a wheelchair. My faith was a driving force behind my recovery. I wanted to get back to church, to a community that cared about me, and to living my life according to Christ. I now have a loving community surrounding me and am building a life completely separate and vastly different from the one I grew up in. I know that Jesus is by my side through thick and thin and that I have a reason for being alive.
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