I used to joke that, as a misanthrope, God chose the wrong career field for me. Of course, I don’t honestly hate and distrust mankind, nor am I genuinely antisocial or unfriendly. I just find myself in varying degrees of tiredness after being with people for a time. When it has to do with ministry work, where the expectation of being “on” is high, my social battery drains quite quickly. If not addressed by spending intentional time to be quiet and alone during busy event seasons, I tend to get sick. Not fun, no.

​

But, despite the draw on my body that requires me to get alone to be restored, my heart longs for that time with people. Isn’t that how our Creator fashioned us to be? At our core, we yearn for belonging, for shared experiences, for love. I desire to have people who I think of when I see a quote, meme, etc., and who I can know well enough to send it to them with the message of “Hey, I saw this and thought you’d like it!” Sometimes those messages remain just that—right under the surface level—and then there are those who open up the conversation for more, sharing their thoughts and life with you, drawing you closer to them.

 

I’m a reader, mainly of fiction. In storytelling, there are plot devices called “tropes” that help drive the narrative in a certain direction. You may recognize some in movies or stories you’ve loved before, such as: the reluctant hero, small town secrets, time travel, grumpy vs. sunshine, hidden inheritance, forced proximity, and many more. One of my absolute favorites is found family. Of all the plot devices that exist, found family speaks to me in a language that translates into real life.

 

My parents had moved from Chalmette, Louisiana to what was called “Industrial” in the southwest side of Pearl River County on the cusp of the 1970s, far from the city life where they grew up, to live the quieter, rural life they desired. Two sons and a couple moves closer to Picayune later, my parents welcomed me into their world in December 1982.

 

The 4 and 15 year age gaps between my brothers and myself put me at a disadvantage for being a younger sibling they could easily play with, not that they didn’t try or spend time with me. It was just evidently different and a bit more difficult for them to relate to me, and me to them, especially as a very dramatic, insecure, and sensitive baby sister. I learned how to entertain myself and used my imagination to have my own grand adventures whenever I needed to.

 

I had a few cousins who were around my age; but, the older I grew, the more rarely I saw them. My brothers were active and had their own friend groups and lives. There was one girl on my street who I played with whenever we were allowed. So, the relationships I forged as a young girl were found in school and church, the latter of which my mother was active in. She encouraged the godly friendships I’d found.

 

Then, life took an unexpected turn. The church, school, and house I’d known—I had to say goodbye to within a couple years of each other. I was between the ages of 11-12 and felt like I was almost starting over from scratch. It was quickly that I realized how few of those friendships were strong enough to endure the changes. In fact, only 1 of the young girls I had been friends with is still one today.

 

I moved to a brand new neighborhood that only had 2 houses at the time, commuted to private school out of state every single weekday, and was in the process of visiting other churches with my family after the Holy Spirit directed us to move on from the only church home I’d known. I was a pre-teen in a dysfunctional home on the precipice of divorce and struggling with the rebellion and addictions of my teenage middle brother. I was being provided for, as far as necessities and privileges went, but there was a relational void that had been created that I couldn’t fill for myself.

 

Something inside me shifted, especially the year before and after my parents divorced. I had functioned successfully in the timeframes before when I was often alone as a child because of being able to entertain myself and not depend on others (or be a burden or inconvenience), but roots of rejection and abandonment began to grow that motivated an unhealthy low self-esteem and attachment to people over my teenage years. The friendships I’d made in my new school in Louisiana were fun, but I knew in my heart that they wouldn’t last once I left for high school. I overprotected myself in many areas, then overcompensated in others, especially in high school where I changed schools and complete friend groups three times over 3 years, then graduated a year early.

 

During these times, the one constant that I had was the church we had joined somewhere back in 1994-1995: Resurrection Life in Picayune. Years prior, my parents had attended Unity Baptist when James Hickman was the pastor, but they left to attend a non-denominational church after Mom had been filled with the Holy Spirit and wanted our family where there would be the preaching and teaching of the active Holy Spirit. Mrs. Tish Hickman had called my mother one day—back when phonebooks were still used to find people’s numbers—and said that the Holy Spirit told her to contact my mother and invite her to Resurrection Life, the ministry led by the Holy Spirit that she and Bro. James had started a handful of years prior. Mom agreed; we visited, and the rest is history.

 

When home life was overwhelming, I couldn’t wait to be at church. When school was confusing and stressful, I wanted to be at church. When I felt invisible and dismissed, I longed to be at church. When I was excited about something good that happened, I was itching to tell me people at church. You get the gist. Even though Resurrection Life was imperfect, I was more focused on the connections I was making there with both teenagers and adults. I felt more at peace when I was in worship with other believers. I was learning about Jesus, the Word, the Holy Spirit, and the walk of faith I professed from people who loved God AND me. I was incredibly active in our youth ministry and had been asked by Bro. Allen Hickman, who was the youth pastor and worship leader at the time, to join the youth worship team since he’d heard I loved to sing and loved to worship. That opened even more doors for me to connect with others who were also in this “family” of God for the next 20 years. Before I knew it, my roots were deeply planted in ResLife, interwoven with the people who attended, and I was experiencing what it truly meant to belong to something eternal. I had gained a family beyond the blood I was born into, and the blood of Jesus Christ we share has impacted my life in ways I can possibly never explain.

 

My world outside of church has been a rollercoaster, but God saw fit to place specific people in my life because He knew I needed them. I would love to tell you about a few of them. They deserve the recognition because their love for Jesus overflowed into the way they loved (and still love) me.

 

The very first life group I attended as an older teen was in the home of Ismael and Laura Quiroz. Little did they know at the time that by opening up their home to a handful of very young adults, they would gain a spiritual daughter. I’ve spent years crossing their threshold and being welcomed and loved as if I was their own. They’ve poured life and wisdom into me, interceded with me, listened and wept with me, celebrated with me as well. I know that if I need absolutely anything, I can call and they’d answer. Their door is always open to me, and their legacy not only continues with their blood children, in-laws, and grandchildren, but with me also.

 

The very first adult worship team I was a part of was led by Jenny Pinson. I began learning how to lead the congregation as an adult under her example. Later, we were hired on staff at ResLife within a year of each other. Having had those earlier years of worshiping together on her team, there was already a foundation for our relationship. We grew closer, trusting and confiding in one another more with time, and ministering to each other. Not having older sisters biologically, God gave her to me as one of the most precious gifts I could have ever needed. He has spoken through her to me on many occasions, and I’ve been able to receive it without hesitation because I know her heart for Jesus and for me.

 

In 2002, I walked into the office of newly hired youth and worship pastor, Todd Goodwin. I sat down as a broken mess with a medical diagnosis that I didn’t know what to do with and a wavering hope for life. He did not dismiss me. He stopped and listened, something he still does without hesitation to this day. He didn’t just tolerate me like I’d expected he would, but he showed me Jesus time and time again in the way that he began to love me like a father. His wife, Nina, and his two daughters, Haley and Bethany, became my family too. Over the years, I’ve grown so close with them that I’ve even joined them on family trips, spent holidays with them, and more. I could write another complete article on just what I’ve learned from the Goodwins about God’s love.

 

There are many others—Bro. Allen and Amy Hickman, Amber Sandercock, Lisa and Steve Herndon, Billy and Jameye Martin, Cayli Quiroz, Elisha Hickman, Dan and Morri Finley, and Jamie Thompson to name a few—who have been more than just friends during long seasons of my life. They crossed that invisible barrier into a knowing of each other that can only be described as family.

 

And the one who ordained that possibility to reality from the beginning is God. He alone knows beforehand what we need, when we need it, and who it is He wants to use to make it happen. I cannot be more thankful that He saw me and specifically picked out the people who would see me too and love me like He does. What amazing grace that is.

 

In the words of John Newton, it feels appropriate to end with this:

 

“I once was lost, but now I’m found.”