Beyond Church Walls

 

Can you share about your childhood, the progression of the addiction, going to prison, and how you came to Christ?

I grew up in a home, living with my mom and dad, back and forth. My childhood wasn’t the best. My parents physically, mentally, and emotionally abused me. I remember times when my mom would grab me by my hair and drag me across the floor in our house, and my dad would beat us with extension cords and coaxial cables—he would use anything he could get his hands on. My childhood was not as good as it could have been, and it was very traumatic. Despite this, I’m grateful to God for my upbringing, as my parents always supported my regular church attendance. Still, the main reason I was going to church as a kid was to escape the abuse that was going on at home—it was a relief for me to get out of a demonic atmosphere.

I always enjoyed worshiping God, being in the presence of church people, and being away from the house and the environment where I lived. I would attend church for this reason, but deep down, I sensed the Lord’s calling. When I went to church, I would look at the preachers who were preaching—I wanted to be like them—preach like them, talk like them, and dress like them, so I always knew in my heart that I was called to do something greater, but I didn’t know if I would ever make it to that point because of the abuse that I would suffer at my home. One thing, too, is when I was living with my mom, and when she would get tired of dealing with me, she would send me to my dad’s. And then, when my mom decided she would snatch me back out from my dad’s, and I would have to go back and live with her. I hated it. I didn’t want to go live with my mom. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents because they, too, were another escape for me when I was living at my dad’s house. Five different times while living there, someone molested me, so to escape, I either went to church or spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house—a way to get away and cope with what I was dealing with at home. 

When Did You Start Using Drugs?

As life went on, I slowly got into using drugs, and eventually, I started selling them too. I used to sell drugs all across the United States. We would load up U-Haul trucks with cocaine and marijuana and drive all over, distributing them. I became a full-blown alcoholic, drinking a fifth and a half of Jack Daniel’s daily. Back then, I didn’t realize it, but I now know I was trying to numb my pain and cope with the suffering I’d endured throughout my life.

It took me years to understand why I was deeply involved in that lifestyle. Even while I was using and selling drugs and drinking heavily, I still felt drawn to church. I would go to church even when I was high and had drugs in my pocket. There was something about being in that place—it felt good. It was a feeling I never experienced at home.

In February 1998, I got busted with seven pounds of marijuana and two eight balls of cocaine. They sent me to Harris County Jail in Texas and sentenced me to five years in prison. The judge’s sentence devastated me. I returned to my cell and called family members to tell them what happened. I told them I was going to prison for five years.

In county jail, you typically wait about 45 days before being transferred to a state prison. While waiting, I unexpectedly received a letter saying the parole board wanted to see me. It was strange being called before the parole board before even setting foot in prison—but they granted me parole. I was so excited. I thought I was getting out and could start putting my life back together.

I called my family—my mom, dad, aunts, and uncles—to let them know I’d made parole and ask if I could stay with them. One by one, they all hung up the phone. Nobody wanted me in their home. My family rejected me again. I was the black sheep of the family. Because I didn’t have a place to parole, I ended up serving the full five-year sentence.

The prison was no cakewalk. There’s a lot that goes on in there. While inside, I spent a lot of time thinking about my life. I knew I could’ve been out if I had just had an address. I started calling friends and acquaintances—anyone—and asked if I could use their addresses just to get released. I told them I didn’t need to stay with them to use the address. Every single person rejected me.

One night, I was sitting on my bunk, devastated. I was 18 years old and scared. I began to pray and cry out to God. I poured out my pain and sorrow, and I repented. Then I heard God speak to me in a still, small voice:

“If you are going to be healed, if you’re going to be set free and delivered, and if I’m going to use you, I need you to forgive the people in your life who have ever hurt you.”

God told me to call out the name of every single person who had hurt me, abused me, misused me, or wounded me in any way. He gave me clear instructions:

“Call them out by name. Say that you forgive them. Say that you love them. And release them into My hands.”

It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. With every name I spoke, I cried like a baby. It got harder and harder, but I kept going. That night, I forgave everyone and truly surrendered my life to the Lord.

And this time, it was real.

Before, I had gone through the motions and did the “church” things, such as when the pastor said come to the altar, I went to the altar; when he said say a prayer, I said a prayer; and when he said get baptized, I got baptized, but nothing changed. There was no deliverance, no healing, no freedom. It wasn’t until I was completely alone, rejected by everyone else, that I realized I needed a Savior. That’s when everything started to change.

Did you get involved in prison ministry or Bible studies while you were in prison, and when did you get out?

I did a lot of Bible studies through the mail, I signed up for a mentorship, and they assigned me a mentor, who paid for my Bible college. I went to a college in Louisiana and became a pastor and became what God called me to be, so I spent a lot of time studying God’s word, being involved in chaplaincy, and praying with other ministers and prison inmates. I’ve seen a lot of people give their lives to the Lord, and God used me in the prisons, and then I got out on May 9th, 2003. Upon release, I immediately visited my son; I had impregnated a woman before my imprisonment, and she gave birth while I was incarcerated. So when I got out, I traveled by bus from Houston to Oklahoma City to see him. When I arrived in downtown Oklahoma City near the Greyhound bus station, there was a ministry called Celebration of Life Church. They were having a men’s prayer gathering, and the leader of the men’s group had a short Bible study, so I went in and sat there and listened. On my bus ride back to Houston, I heard the Lord speak to me again… “I want you to sell everything you have, and I want you to move to Oklahoma.” So, when I got back, I put up a sign at my apartment to sell everything and quit my job. I was trying to sell everything at my apartment so I would have the money to get on a bus, go to Oklahoma, and have some extra cash to help me get through some things, find a place to live, and get settled. I gave myself a week, and in that entire week, nobody came by the house and bought anything. Well, the night before I was to leave to get on a bus, this little old lady who lived in a tiny traveling trailer came to my apartment and she bought everything and said, “I don’t know why I’m buying all this stuff.” And I don’t know where I’m going to put it.” She even bought my curtains! 

So I got on the bus and went to Oklahoma. I started attending the church where that Bible study was, and I was there for 4-5 years. I ended up becoming the associate pastor. It was a good time of training and discipleship for me, and I’m grateful for the opportunity because it allowed me to get into ministry, see the ins and outs of running a church, and be part of praying for people, preaching, and ministering.  

Did you go back to Texas after having some ministry training? 

Yes, I ended up going back to Texas and got a job. I wasn’t involved in a lot of ministries for the first year. Then I felt I’ve always had a burden for homeless people, drug addicts, prostitutes, inmates, and ex-inmates because I understand them—I understand the addiction and struggle and know how it feels to be in their shoes. My wife and I started doing homeless ministry by making 40-60 plates of food, loading them up in our car with our two children, and going downtown, pulling up under a bridge, handing out food, praying for people, giving them clothes, and making up bags of personal care products—it was a blessing to be able to serve and be a light for Christ. We didn’t have much money but did what we could, and God always provided. God also used this time as ministry training.

Through all that I went through in my past, I never quit dreaming. I never quit hoping. I never quit having faith in God. As I was healing, I continued to struggle and fall, but I continued to get back up, and I always held on to God. 

Maybe you too are in between, and you know what you should be doing—you know your purpose as I did, but you may not see it in the natural realm right now, but if you keep praying and believing, keep fasting, and keep seeking the Lord for whatever it is that He’s called and predestined and ordained for you to do—don’t ever give up because I know that what God has started in you, He is faithful and will complete it. He will be with you as you complete your mission and what God has called you to do.

My heart is beyond the church walls because everything that we do is supposed to be—we’re to be servants for the people. Being in church and being behind the scenes and involved in it, I saw that there wasn’t a lot of outreaches or discipleship, and I didn’t want to stay cooped up in a building with the same 20, 30, 40, or 50 people for the next 20, 30, 40, or 50 years. I don’t believe that God designed the church to be there doing the same thing repeatedly. We’re supposed to go out into the highways and byways to compel the people to enter the church. That’s why I believe God gave me the name Beyond Walls. 

We would have worship at park events, pray for people, and baptize them in the parks; focus on community outreach; and follow up on evangelism. I would invite several churches to partner with us and help us put on the event so that when we go out into the community, there will be different churches, ministers, and people giving people options. We’re not there to get you to come to our church—they have options where they may like to attend and grow in their relationship with Jesus. Jesus himself was an evangelist and didn’t stay within the church walls, and I believe we are to follow in his footsteps and do the same.

Beyond Walls & Beyond FM Radio

Pastor Brian shared his story on Truth, Talk & Testimonies

Pastor Brian's story can be found on the VictoryEmbraced:  Truth, Talk & Testimonies podcast platforms

How to Heal from Pain & Brokenness

 

Have you ever felt broken? Wounded by life’s trials, burdened by pain, or struggling to move forward? You are not alone. But there is hope—a healing that only Jesus can bring.

Pain can feel like a storm that never ends. It weighs on your heart, leaving you feeling lost and alone. But God’s Word reminds us:

Psalm 34:18 – “The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

No matter how deep the hurt, God is near. He sees every tear, and He cares for you.

Maybe your heart feels shattered. But what if I told you that brokenness doesn’t mean the end? In God’s hands, broken pieces can become a beautiful masterpiece.

Isaiah 61:1 – “He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners.”

Jesus came to heal, restore, and set you free.

Healing begins when we surrender our pain to God. It’s in His presence that we find peace beyond understanding.

Philippians 4:6-7 – “Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.”

Healing is a journey, but in Christ, transformation is possible. You are not meant to stay in the darkness of pain. Like a butterfly, God is working in you, preparing you for something greater.

2 Corinthians 5:17 – “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, the new creation has come: The old has gone, the new is here!”

Your story isn’t over. God is writing something beautiful, even in the places that once seemed hopeless. Trust in Him, and let Him lead you into healing and joy.

Psalm 147:3 – “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

No matter what you’ve been through, God is with you. His love is greater than your pain, His power stronger than your past, and His grace deeper than your wounds.

God bless you! 

Truth, Talk & Testimonies

On The Front Lines to Save Lives

 

Noemi Padilla shared her testimony on a Truth, Talk & Testimonies broadcast.

She's a former abortion industry worker who is now a Client Support Specialist for Abby Johnson's ministry, And Then There Were None.

Noemi, please share your testimony. You told me that you were a Christian but backslid. Can you tell me what happened? 

I grew up in a very Christian family—I like to say I’ve been a Christian since I was six months old. We left Puerto Rico and came to the United States, and my entire family attended the same church. I grew up there and formed lifelong friendships with friends who shared my cribs in the nursery. So, I had a strong Christian upbringing. 

 

My Christianity—my religion and my life—were two separate things growing up. Again, my grandmother planted amazing seeds, teaching us to count on and trust God. Despite being raised in the church, I had a tumultuous upbringing. I used to think that anybody who was a Christian or member of a church was perfect, but God is the only perfect one, and we’re all sinners. Churches are hospitals for sinners. Unfortunately, there was abuse on multiple levels, even within the church. Growing up in this environment made me angry. If someone is dealing with this in every aspect of their life, told God is good, you begin to question where God is during all this horrible stuff. There was physical abuse, there was sexual abuse, drugs, and alcoholism. So there was so much. Thankfully, I was never angry at God. 

 

When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I was making terrible choices instead of making wise decisions, and I became sexually active and promiscuous. During my backslidden years, I believed in God, but I was trying to survive. Amidst everything, I got pregnant at seventeen. Getting pregnant was a big fork in the road as I was about to graduate high school and attend college. For me, the only way out of my upbringing and life living in the ghetto was an excellent education, and this was always super important to me. Despite having terrible attendance, I managed to maintain straight A’s in my studies. I remember I found out a month and a half before my high school graduation and found out on a fluke because I wasn’t even in tune with my body. One morning, after eating two scrambled eggs, I fell gravely ill. I shared my pregnancy news, and my friend suggested I schedule an abortion. That’s how casual and the norm it is—you get pregnant, and the solution is to have an abortion.  

 

We got a hold of a pregnancy test, and I was pregnant—she wasn’t wrong. From there, I embarked on this mission to get an abortion. I was underage at seventeen, so I took my own Medicaid card from my mom’s bag because I dared not ask her, “Hey, Mom—can I have my insurance card to have an abortion?”. So, I grabbed my card and took a bus to the abortion clinic—I remember the location of the abortion clinic—I remember that it was on the 5th floor, and when I got there, somebody took some blood work and some urine. A while later, she comes to me and says, “You’re seventeen, and you’re pregnant with twins—it’s a twin pregnancy.”. At that moment, I felt disconnected from everything and asked, “What did that mean? “Is it still possible to perform the procedure today?” She responded that it could be done, but it will be more money. I didn’t care if it cost more because I wasn’t paying for it. After all, they put the charge on my insurance card back then. They charged my insurance, and not once did they ask if my legal guardian was there since I was underage. A little while later, she returned to tell me that I was very far along and in the second trimester of pregnancy. Again, I asked, does this mean we can’t do this today? She responded, We can. Nothing was sinking in because, at this point, I was in survival mode. I was trying to come to terms with everything—it was either having babies and getting married and going through another cycle, another generation of this. I pictured having the abortion as a breakaway to go to college and do the best that I can do. 

 

They did the procedure, and I don’t remember much after that other than when I woke up; they said that I was screaming, but you have to get up and go home now. And so, I said okay, and then they asked if somebody was there to pick me up, and I lied and said, “Yeah, my boyfriend is downstairs.”. They responded, “Okay, goodbye,” and gave me some antibiotics. I hobbled to the bus to go back home and remembered that I had almost made it all the way home, but I became sick around four blocks from where I needed to get off the bus. Now, as a nurse, I know that’s the anesthesia and the motion sickness. When I got off the bus, which happened to be in front of my dad’s job, I started throwing up. Somebody told him that his daughter was across the street, and she was sick. When my dad walked across the street, I remember panicking, and he asked what was wrong with me. I told him that I must have a stomach flu. He told me to stop it and walk home, which I did. I can’t even tell you that I took the pills they gave me—I boxed my abortion up, put it away, and graduated high school. I went to college and thought I was living a good life, but I was making horrible decisions.   

 

Was it after college that you started your nursing career? 

Yes, I went to college, graduated from nursing school, and started my nursing career. I remember that my first nursing job was at this well-to-do and posh hospital in the Bronx, and supplies were plentiful, so it was a good nursing experience. I did that for about 8 years, and then I went to a city hospital because I wanted to experience both sides, so I went into community medicine at a city hospital and got to see the other side of nursing where you were struggling to keep your patients alive and enjoyed this experience so much more because I felt like I was giving back to my community and felt what nursing is all about. Fast forward–911 happened, and I didn’t want to live in the city anymore, so I moved out to Florida, which was one block away from the abortion clinic where I worked, so I knew very well what was being done there. Still, it didn't bother me because I had an abortion myself, and I was extremely pro-choice at that time. The way I perceived it was that my abortion saved my life when I was seventeen, so I want to go in there and help woman–I want to help save their lives and give them what was given to me, and I think that it’s a key point because one of our phrases that we like to share a lot is that no one grows up wanting to work in an abortion clinic. For instance, in my nursing school and clinical, we were excited to do OB, and no one said, “Yes, let me go work at an abortion clinic.”  

 

I wanted to give back and help women, and it was super convenient for me because it was a block away from where I lived, and I could walk to work if I wanted. As a former New Yorker, I didn’t have a driver's license at the time–it was like the perfect picture of everything. So I walked in one day after getting off my night shift at my previous job and asked the girl at the front desk if they were hiring. They asked what I do, and I told them that I was a nurse, so they got the executive director. She asked if I had time to interview her immediately because she needed a nurse. We went into a room to talk, and she said I would be a great fit there. From the beginning, she uplifted me, and I’m a former New Yorker–don’t schmooze me, you know. She saw it wasn’t working for me, so she said, “Let me introduce you to our doctor, a New York transplant. She's a former New Yorker.” I said fine, so she introduced me to her, and immediately we meshed–there were many connections. We discovered that we ate Chinese food in the same circle, worked at the same hospital, and had the same work ethic. The next thing you know, I was told that working there would be a good fit, and I thought so. 

 

Then, I was asked if I could start that day because they needed me. I said no because I told her I smelled–I was working at the jail, and jails have a distinct smell because they have a closed ventilation system. I picked up on the nonverbal communication between them, which I came to learn about quickly. And she goes, “Well, you know, we'll offer you a $500 sign-on bonus if you can start right now.” They see where the need is and how they can grasp you, and they see that that would get me. Who doesn’t like $500 dollars? In my mind, I said this is a piece of cake, and $500 dollars can’t hurt. The executive director then took out $500 and paid me–I didn’t even need to wait before the shift was over. About a couple of hours into the shift, I noticed that the support staff was very excited I asked them what they were excited about, and they said that they met the quota, and they were going to get lunch that day and if we saw two more patients, we’re going to get the good lunch. I asked them what they were talking about, and they shared that every time we see 12 patients, they buy lunch for us, and if we see 24 patients, we get to get Chinese food instead of pizza or sandwiches.  

 

And I'm like, OK, so a little while later, they came up to me and said that they’re going to get Chinese food, and what did I want? That didn't seem right to me, so I told them no–I’m okay. The doctor then insisted I get something because I was there all day and needed to eat something. And that’s how they pull you in further. Then, I took out my cell phone which was pretty old, and the doctor noticed and said, “Girl, that phone is ancient. You cannot have that phone to represent us. We'll get you a new phone”.  

 

Now, let’s look at the whole picture–I got a $500 sign-on bonus, and I was told that every day, if we met the quota, we got free lunch, they were going to buy me a new phone, work was close to home, I could help women–I should’ve caught on quickly, that this was out of the norm. You don't go into any job or hospital and have all these things given to you, but we don't think that clearly when you're being given all these gifts or when you're being given $500 on the spot. So, I started my four years there, and this was just an indication of what life would be like there, in a short amount of time, it was me saying to the support staff–Hold on, you're having a bad day, let's get some dessert or, you know, just everything was compensated–we fixed it–whatever it took to keep the flow and keep the peace and the patients circulating.  

 

About two months later, they told me I was ready to learn about the sonogram room. I’ve been a nurse for a long time but haven't attended sonography school. They told me that they were going to teach me, and the owner at the time told me she was going to take me under her wing. I thought she must have gone to sonogram school, but she didn’t even have medical assistance credentialing. Yet, she performed the sonograms and taught others how to perform sonograms. 

 

But again, that evil part of us gets uplifted quickly, and they say you can do this, and before you know it, it becomes a challenge for me. I had to perfect sonograms, which became my next milestone. I kept doing sonograms until they were terrific, and I began getting kudos. I got a new Michael Kors bag, and the doctors were so happy with me, and all was well. But throughout all this, we're still performing abortions–We're still treating women horribly–and still an assembly line. Then, the executive director had an accident; she fell, and she got hurt and was going to be out for a long time. The owner called me, saying, “I have a job offer for you. Do you want to be the interim executive director? Because you can do this. You're the only one who can run this clinic.” I responded, “Absolutely not.” I have no desire to do anything other than nursing. And then she said, “Well, it comes with a big pay raise.” Once I heard about the salary, I changed my mind and told her I would do it. I clarified that I had free range to make decisions, and she said yes. So, I thought this was a good opportunity to fix some of the problems we had going on to give better patient care, have the young ladies in a medical professional environment, and, you know, things like that. Well, she fought me every step of the way. Anything that created a wave in her flow was an issue. 

 

Throughout this, I had to hire several young ladies, which I did, and after about two years, I knew I couldn't do this anymore. It was horrendous. But I felt responsible for these young ladies that I had hired, and I had also seen when somebody left the abortion industry, how they get blacklisted and shunned worse than the Amish. It’s a cult-like environment. This family they claim to be so that we can all isolate and deal with each other. You become enemy number one when you have an opinion or step out of that circle. So, I felt responsible for these young ladies, and I told them I didn’t know how long I would be there, but if they wanted out to go talk to the crazy people on the sidewalk and see what they were about. Those were our sidewalk advocates for life and Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, and all prayer warriors were represented. I told them that I would give them good recommendations and see how they could help you out, and then they started quitting one by one like dominoes and having successful encounters with And Then There Were None. They were excited, genuinely cared for, and learned they were real, not horrible.  

 

We were in that process for about two years, and finally, one morning, I woke up and was so weary. While putting on my uniform, I said, “I couldn’t do this anymore.” Then I heard a voice say, “You don’t have to do this; you can quit.” I started to rationalize. They wouldn't have a nurse if I didn’t go to work. And then, I heard the voice again say, “You can just quit.” I knew it was God speaking to me, and it was the sign I needed, so I told Him I would quit. I called the doctor first and told him I was quitting today, and she said, “Here we go, What do you need? A Michael Kors bag, a few days off?” She wasn't a horrible person. She was just trying to please me in what I was possibly disgruntled over. Regardless of our credentials, we were all in the same cult-like environment. So, I said no, I'm going to quit. She goes, all right, just come into the office, and we'll talk. When I got to the office, I said, here’s the keys to your kingdom–I don’t want them anymore. The owner took the keys and said, “You’ll be back.” And I responded, “I would not be back”. It became a really bad interaction, but I grabbed my stethoscope and the magazine on my desk and walked away.  

 

I called my brother and asked him if we could go to the beach. He thought I was having a nervous breakdown, I said, no, let's just go to the beach. I sat at the shoreline by the water's edge and cried for eight hours. Every once in a while, my brother came to give me water and a sandwich. I begged God for forgiveness, and I remember telling Him I wasn’t worthy of this, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing tomorrow but knew what I couldn’t do today. And then, I called And Then There Were None, and it was such a beautiful thing because I remember that initial phone call so clearly. I said, “Hey, this is me, I'm from Tampa, Florida.” The person responded, “Wait a minute–Purple building on Fletcher Avenue. You?”  

 

My old abortion clinic was distinctively painted purple on purpose so that we could describe it to the patients–it’s the purple building–you can't miss us. I said yes, that's me. And he said, “We have been praying for you for years.” God sent me the sign; I was now with the right people because they didn’t know me, but they knew me, had been praying for me, and weren’t holding anything against me. I felt instant peace. Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, is focused on ex-abortion workers in any way, shape, or form–It could be medical, it could be clerical, it could be male or female–We have male participants, we have had people who have, reached out to us who have picked up specimens from the abortion clinic. So, it's anyone who is in any way, shape, or form affiliated with or affected by an abortion clinic.  

 

In my personal redemption path, I trusted my God-seeds, planted so firmly that I trusted them, and knew that he forgave me. That part was so much easier for me than for me to forgive myself. I had already accepted His love. I knew I was redeemed, but I was still knocking myself, wondering how I did what I did, and I was stuck in that phase for a while. It’s a process–Not that you quit, and that’s it. You quit, and then we have different stages of healing, such as Healing Foundations 101 for those who have quit recently, and that’s our accountability weekend, where you have to come to terms with things. I used to say, “They did that”. I was saying this even though I no longer work there, and I’m separated from them. It was at my first healing retreat that I said this a few times. I said, “Wait a minute, I am they and took responsibility in this safe zone for it and completely broke down. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I participated in over 5,000 abortions.  

 

When we come to terms with I participated in over 5000 abortions, you know, when we lovingly go through this process where we try and put a number together–Not that it matters because life is life, but it's part of our healing process, and it’s way better for me to go through that with a group of women who are there loving me unconditionally then for me to go through that alone at 1:00 am so they understand. There’s a place for abortion workers to come safely where it's going to be nonjudgmental and unconditional–I promise you that nothing that they say that they've done has been said or done before. We're a unique group, and they can't shock us. The reason why I put my dirty laundry out there and wrongdoings and speak publicly is because if one person in the industry hears or sees a sister to someone who works in an abortion clinic–for me, it was my brother who was a chaplain who prayed for me every day when I was working there. He would call me, saying, “I’m praying for you.” We didn’t have any other conversation other than that for four years, and somebody else can hear it and say, wait, I want to pass this information forward to somebody who works in the abortion industry.  

 

The devil wants to keep you isolated and keep you having a facade. There is truth, light, and happiness in the world. Put the work in for your healing, and you can laugh and smile again–We do.  

 

Is there any other encouragement you can give to people?  

Please contact any of the ministries mentioned if you are touched by any part of my testimony or anything you heard. And Then There Were None is super vital to both current and ex-abortion workers–we don’t care if you worked in an abortion clinic 25-30 years ago and never had healing because we know what it’s like to carry that burden. So please, any affiliation that you've ever had with any abortion clinic, reach out to us, it doesn't hurt. It's one phone call. You can text if you don't like what you hear, which hasn’t happened yet, but you don’t have to follow through. There’s help out there, and there’s a whole tribe waiting to love you unconditionally and help you get another smile on your face because we know how hard it is to look at ourselves in the mirror and smile.   

Truth, Talk & Testimonies