Unfortunately Kevin is serving a fifteen year sentence in a Federal pen. Good news is he has started a healing journey through classes and found a gift of leather working; he makes beautiful leathers bags, saddles, etc. etc. and a local artisan sells them in his shop. By God's grace he found a gift and a way to positively contribute to society despite his current residence.

Also by God's grace alone and pure dumb luck his little sister is not there with him. She too went on to make many mistakes. As the cancer of her childhood, and her own choices cut away at any chance of a healthy self esteem or self love she became increasingly convinced that not even God could love trash like her. Well, when you live without hope you've got nothing . . . . not that is an excuse to make such damaging choices.

Twice she thought she was dying from a drug overdose. Once her second husband had to do rescue breathing on her while she prayed to God not to let her children know how she died. She was living a double life they would never have understood. Ironically, she seemed to be the epitome of successful and confident.

She became a radio deejay in 1994. An EMT in 1997 and graduate of the Volunteer Fire Academy 1998 where she was asked to come back as a guest instructor. In 1999 she secured a part time position as an Animal Control officer where she received honorable mentions from the community and she and her husband bought some property and built a house. They had nice jobs, vehicles, home, children . . .  but she was dead inside . . . . .a quitter with a weak spirit, always throwing away what others would kill to have, unable to value life, hope and love for what it is. Absolutely unable to trust.

In her very late 30's she started listening to Christian talk shows on her way to work, and reading church billboards. Anything to find hope. She was searching . . . always searching. She would go to bed at night with her heart racing and beg God - if he was real - to have mercy on her, and to help her. Then one day, September 23, 2001, she and her husband heard a preacher talking about a free ticket to heaven. You can say they were birthed out of the tragedies of 911, attending church because they were scared, as was the nation. Oh, what a journey she was beginning . . . . . . . the preacher said he believed angels write the name of a newborn on a free ticket to heaven bought and paid for by the blood of Jesus Christ, but someone has to tell them that it is theirs for the asking. He asked if anyone wanted their ticket to come to the altar and receive it. The drawing of the Holy Spirit was soooo strong and so compelling both were in tears . . . . and just then her husband grabbed her hand and said, "Come with me." They melted into a puddle at the altar and gave our battered and broken lives to the Lord Jesus Christ that morning.

And my life was turned upside down, but in a good way. You see that little girl who to this day grieves over the death of that baby goat . . . the same little girl who use to hide away in the drainage ditch with her little radio . . . . . the one who asked at the tender age of 8 or 9 for her brother to push her out of a tree is ME. Just Another Kowgirl. My husband and I continued to grow in the Lord and we abandoned our old ways but our marriage had sustained terrible damage. About a month after we accepted Jesus he literally woke me from bed around midnight one night and told me that I had to 'forgive my father and it started tonight'. I got on my knees and cried like a baby but I did write a letter to my Dad and told him that with the help of Jesus I forgave him.

My father always told me I was the most precious thing that ever happened to him. And it sparked this question. "Daddy, did you not ever think when I was a kid that one day I would grow up? That one day I would tell? And that one day I would have the freedom to choose whether or not I ever wanted to have a relationship with you?" I didn't want to be the most precious thing to him. What about my brother, my mother? How does a kid live with that kind of guilt? To this day, because my brother is in prison, I suffer a form of survivor's guilt.

About a month or so after my spiritual experience with Jesus I began waking up every night at 3:30 am . . . over and over and over until finally I recognized that Jesus was trying to tell me something. I started with Genesis 3:30 until I worked my through to Proverbs 3:30 and it said, "Contend not with a man for no reason when he has done you no wrong". And I knew that Jesus was telling me I had to stop blaming my husband for things my father and my first husband had done. He is a good man; I had to stop fighting him. Knowing I needed to do this, and actually doing it, took a very long time. Some days I still struggle.

Also, during my very early infancy in Christ I went to a spiritual retreat and I stayed behind in the auditorium when all of the other ladies went to lunch. There I laid my head on my seat and cried my heart out. I told God I was so sorry for the babies that I had aborted, and I begged him to forgive me, and to please tell them how sorry I was and how much their mamma loved them. I cried that entire weekend at the retreat (I know now that the holy spirit was cleansing me). I did not have a revelation yet that God had already forgiven me when I gave my life to him that Sunday morning. The night I came home from the retreat my husband was cooking tomato soup and cheese toast and I remember sitting on my couch and my eyes drifted up to the ceiling and peace came over me, and Jesus spoke to my heart. He said, "Kimberly, your babies are in heaven with me and they are fine. They know how much their mamma loves them and how sorry you are, and they are cheering you on. Now you pick yourself up and get yourself going because I've got things for you to do!" I have never carried the crushing guilt for those abortions since. OH THE BEAUTIFUL THE MERCY AND GRACE OF JESUS CHRIST! I cannot wait to meet my children, what a day of rejoicing that will be.

About two years later I found a book called Healing Victims of Sexual Abuse. I checked it out from the library and my husband and I read it together, and we cried together, and we prayed together. And he told me, "Kimberly, I see you. For the first time I really see you." And he didn't run. Glory to God.

In 2013 my father was arrested again for child pornography but this was certainly not the first time he was up to unsavory acts, it was just the first time he got caught again. We had actually started talking and he had offered to study the bible with me because he said he had had a wonderful awakening with Jesus . . . . . and I dared to believe him because I wanted a father so badly . . .so imagine my blindside when he was arrested.

After a year of incarceration, and my living in fear he would be released and turn up on my doorstep, I contacted the Attorney General's office to get an update on his case. They were about to release him. I honestly had no idea that when I shared with them his abuse of me as a child it would kick off an entire investigation that would lead to other victims coming forward who, as did I, testified against him. Leading up to the trial I thought I would die, and even now today I have days it is hard to breathe. My heart is broken. I cannot stop the tears. He is still my Father, sentenced in March of 2015 to 130 years by jury, 70 by judge: a lifetime. If you are reading this and are the praying type please say a prayer for me as I continue to overcome the grief of knowing this may never be 'fixed' as I had always dreamed it one day would be. I also grieve knowing my Father will most likely die alone.

My grief doesn't have to make sense: He is my father . . . . and I am not ashamed to ask for prayer for him as well. I pray for him every day.

My husband and I have come a long, long way . . . . lots and lots of healing and rebuilding trust . . . though I am not 100% healed even today. I still have set backs, but I am so totally different from whom I once was as a young adult – I don't even recognize that girl anymore . . . . but I am still the same, simple country girl I was raised to be as a kid.  . . . not the whole tearing ants in half and shooting arrows at armadillos though . . . just a love for the simple pleasures and blessings of life: you know, an old beat up truck and a dirty pair of gloves describes me before a dress and heels any day. I love my country home, our land, our animals . . . I love making sun tea and growing a garden. I LOVE TO WRITE. I love to speak. I love to encourage.

I have simple values I guess. I've been married almost 30 years, have four sons and eight grandchildren. My husband says I am 'bluejeans and pearls'. Not sure about the pearls, but bluejeans? You bet . . . I'm all about the bluejean life. All I want to do is live simply and change lives.

For the past four years I have been sharing my story in prisons, and performing motivational speaking whenever, and wherever, I find a platform. Otherwise I host a writing competition and in August will be attending EMS school with hopes of eventually becoming a Paramedic, or an EMT instructor - if my health allows - but public speaking is the love of my life; helping others is my cat's meow.

1. Herbert Ward Wilson said: Child abuse casts a shadow that spans the length of a lifetime. And he was right . . .

2. PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder - is real, a thorn in the flesh not easily removed, if at all . . . but the good news is God's grace is sufficient to live victoriously with it. I have my triggers that set me off . . . . as do you . . . .and that's why we need our relationship with God, and His word, to survive the attacks that come against our minds.

3. So even though I cannot tell you I am perfectly healed I can tell you I am victorious  Today I walk with more confidence, and boldness and purpose, peace and a spirit of freedom I never thought possible for me. But more than that, acceptance into the family of God. I am a free, unconditionally loved and forgiven child of the King. God loves me no matter the mess, no matter the wreck, I have made of my life; no matter where I come from, or who I believed myself to be in contrast to who he says I am.

God bless you all on your journeys, and thank you for allowing me – by reading this - to be a part of yours.