My Testimony

From Ashes to Butterfly: My Testimony

God has worked in my life in ways I never could have scripted.

He found me in a shelter. Not metaphorically — a real one. Cot, shared bathroom, curfew. I was there with nothing but a trash bag of clothes and a criminal case hanging over my head. Court dates. Public defender. Shame so thick I could taste it.

But God was there too. In that shelter. In that courtroom.

He took me from the criminal courts to “case dismissed.” From 2023 feeling like the end of me, to now working on expungement so it doesn’t define me. The same system that almost swallowed me had to let me go, because God said I was not done yet.

Then He nudged me: Move your body. So I joined a gym. One rep at a time, I remembered I was still in here.

He said: Use your voice. So I joined Toastmasters. Turns out the girl who was “too much” in the margins had something worth saying.

He whispered: Keep learning. So I’m writing. Starting the PhD program. From shelter to scholarship — only God.

He took me from unhoused to housed. A roof, a key, a door I can lock. Now He’s walking with me toward more permanent housing. Because stability isn’t a luxury. It’s a foundation.

I lost my Kia Soul. My car, my freedom, my way to get to shift on time. I grieved it. Then I started working on getting a new one, because God doesn’t leave you stranded. He provides — sometimes through work, sometimes through people, always on time.

He gave me strength to walk away from individuals who were committed to misunderstanding me. People who only loved the broken version because it made them feel taller. I chose peace over history. That was God, too.

I have been in the ashes. I have been in the cocoon. Dark. Quiet. Undoing. Everyone sees the butterfly, but nobody talks about the goo stage — when you’re not caterpillar anymore, but you’re not wings yet either. That was me. For months. For years.

But God doesn’t waste a cocoon.

Now I’m becoming that butterfly. You can see the wings. I’m working on a nonprofit to help young women and women. Because someone has to tell them: rock bottom is not your forever home. The court case is not your name. The shelter is not your grave.

God took me from a case number to a calling.

From dismissed charges to dismissed lies I believed about myself.

From survival to service.

I’m not finished. I’m not perfect. I still have days where the floor looks familiar. But I am proof: God rebuilds. He restores. He repurposes pain.

If He did it for me — a mixed girl with poofy hair, a record, a past — He’ll do it for you.

I am the butterfly. And I’m just getting started.