About Me!

I was born in January 1955, I was the third daughter of four girls with a father who never told us there was anything we couldn’t do. He expected effort, not excuses. I learned to drive on a motorcycle and spent summers on my grandparents’ farm. Even though my dad’s father was killed mowing along the highway in 1963 and his mother died in 1976, those early years shaped who I am.

My mother, a British WWII war bride, left everything behind when my father brought her to Oklahoma in 1945. She only went back once in 1956, and my grandmother came to visit in the early ‘70s, but our roots were firmly planted here.

Like many teenagers, I made my share of reckless choices. I was promiscuous. I got pregnant in high school and had an abortion during spring break right after Roe v. Wade was passed. But even then, something in me knew there was more to life—something greater than myself. I wanted to know why we are here and what purpose we serve. I didn’t realize I was searching for God, but in 1980, I could no longer ignore the truth.

I started attending church before I married in 1981, and by 1986, I had two daughters. By 1996, I had enough of trying to please a self-absorbed spouse and divorced. I raised my daughters as best I could. They’re both responsible adults, as different as night and day, and I embrace their differences. They think I always want to tell them what to do, but I see my words as suggestions. They take them or leave them—it’s no big deal to me. They are their own people, and I love that about them.

My youngest daughter has a 6-year-old daughter, my granddaughter. She’s now divorced and getting ready to marry her best friend, a woman. This does not align with my beliefs, but she’s happier than I’ve seen her in a long time. She’s an adult and can make her own choices.

In 2008, my oldest daughter and I went to Bible school, and I spent two weeks in Colombia, where I saw firsthand the power of Jesus and healing among people who had no Plan B. That experience solidified my faith. I believe the Bible is real—every word of it. I take Jesus' teachings literally because they are still meant for today.

But here’s where my journey has become lonely.

I believe we can speak things into existence. I also believe people curse themselves with negative talk. My daughter is starting to understand this, but I don’t know a single person who fully believes as I do.

Most people my age speak death over themselves. They cling to insurance, doctors, and medications, trusting the medical system more than the Creator. They accept the lie that aging means inevitable decline. They replace their knees and hips, accept bad reports, and believe the numbers define their health. But I reject that narrative entirely.

The other day, I had a thought—I’m only middle-aged at 70. It wouldn’t surprise me if I lived to 140 or more because I believe we choose how long we want to live. If Jesus returns before then, great. If not, maybe I’ll just stick around until He does. The Old Testament shows people lived 600-900 years, and I don’t buy into the theory that it was just the atmosphere before Noah’s flood. Something changed—but what?

In the last 18 months, I’ve met a pastor in Uganda. He gets me. The struggles in his country force him to rely fully on God, and because of that, he understands what I believe. I can share what God has revealed to me, and he soaks it in. I’ve grown and changed more in this time than ever before.

I haven’t always eaten well—this country has made garbage out of food—but I’m working on it. My body is a temple, and I believe insurance was created to keep people dependent on Plan B instead of trusting Plan A—God’s promises. Wellness checkups and prescriptions are designed to keep people locked into a system, and I refuse to participate.

I know how this sounds. People think I believe I’m better than them because I won’t buy into the lies, but that’s not it. I just won’t compromise truth for the sake of fitting in.

I believe God’s name—I AM—is not just a title. It’s a declaration. If I say, “I am sick,” I align myself with a lie. I AM could never be sick or diseased. Why would I claim what Jesus died to remove?

I know this is controversial. I know most people won’t agree with me. And honestly? I’m tired of being alone in this.

So, I’m putting this here as a call to those who feel the same way. If what I’ve shared resonates with you, if you believe God’s promises are real and still active today, if you refuse to accept the world’s version of truth—then I want to connect with you.

If the Spirit has led you this far, I believe you’re meant to be here.