Become Someone's Cheerleader

Intimacy with God and people as it relates to a heart wound I have dealt with but still rears its ugly head occasionally.

When I was 14 I had a great relationship with my father as well as my Heavenly Father. I was very trusting to my own detriment. We were Catholic and I was very taken by the possibility of becoming a priest one day. My mother befriended a young priest from our parish who came to our house often. I admired him and the life-style he lived as a "man of God."

Long story short this priest sexually abused me. I told no one and fell into depression, drug use and isolation. My relationship with my Heavenly Father was something I had no use for and I blamed Him for what happened to me. As far as my earthly father, that relationship changed too mostly due to my drug use and isolation/shame/guilt and embarrassment.

Fast forward 14 years and I'm backsliding into addiction and other unsavory behaviors. My relationship with God is still non-existent, my father and I are more distant than ever and my family life was falling apart.

Then one day I found myself incarcerated as a result of my drug use and my world totally fell apart. Yet God was actually there in prison waiting for me. By that I mean He led me to the every Friday night bible study. I thought I was going for the free coffee and the time off for good behavior. Little did I know He was just trying to get me to pay any type of attention to Him even if it were negative.

That part of my life eventually ended, but my disdain for God did not, until I met Tricia, my current wife. She was the first person I would tell about my abuse as a 14 year old. She encouraged me to seek treatment, report the priest and find a way to make peace with my past. Well to do that took an eventual relationship with Christ and a willingness to forgive the priest, stop blaming God and stop my self-destructive behaviors.

We all have heart wounds. Men typically have many, related to their relationship with their fathers. And it's not until those are dealt with that we can begin to see we are actually His beloved son, just as Jesus is.

Tricia, my wife, has been my biggest cheerleader. A woman truly sent by God to bring me to my best self. To the person I was born to be and someone who God has chosen to share my experience, strength and hope with others.

Jimi's new book - Daddy I have Cancer is his journey with his daughter's diagnosis and ultimate death will be available soon.

Being a single mom of 5 children, experiencing chronic homelessness and rejection, only to finally get in a position of healing and restoration, to being stricken with health barriers, has only shown me how strong I really am.

I know faith has been on my tongue and fear cast aside. There were times I wanted to give up and felt I was letting so many people down because I was no longer the one with the voice or the strength to be what I needed to be when they needed me.

I wanted to be there for my children. I saw them growing up before my eyes and I was missing out working and studying. I just wanted to be present for them and be able to provide as well.

I realized that my time would come when I could make the strides to success once I forgave myself. I always had a guilt of letting myself and those around me down. There was never the right time to speak or share my story to anyone because it came with a massive weight of mental illness and emotional distress. I believe they call it a “Debbie Downer”. I just wanted to contribute to society from a posture of “I am a mom who has it together” rather than the mom that needed to get it together.

I would be angry with myself as I prayed and asked God so many times what I was doing? What did I miss? Why did I need to continue this path of endless heartache? After all, my children heard my nights of crying and for once I only wanted to bare a smile and then wear one as well. In April 17, 2019, life changed for all of us. I would be in college for my music degree in elementary education only to be knocked out of my finals with a stroke that shook my family.

Here we go again with another thing I didn’t complete. I was angry, frustrated but more than anything embarrassed. I always did what I needed to do and make things happen for our family, however this time, I was the one who needed help. This time, my children were my help. The pain and overwhelm of not being able to let go of the control a mom has to ensure the life balance in the home, would no longer matter. I wasn't able to feed myself at times, my coordination was off, my hands were weak and I could barely get my brain to communicate with my mouth so that words made sense. I was sad and broken.

I would go on to find ways to figure out life again. At the time the pandemic hit so hard, I was unable to get care the way most would, as everything was shut down. I just knew this was it. I would experience terrors, I was unable to sleep at times due to the different things my body would go through. I was not able to express clearly what I was going through and truly felt I was a burden to my family and I just wanted to run and hid.

Here I was always teaching the children about faith and trusting God and I was literally going through the battle. I had many times I wanted to give up. I screamed. I cried. My new way of transportation was in my wheelchair and my support was a neck pillow to keep my head from sitting on my shoulders. I would look at myself in the mirror and say “who are you” Something about a full life transformation. I felt as if I was being the clay in the potters house.

There were so many new things I learned about myself. I needed rest. My body was tired. I had been raising my children for 20 years and I never took a day off. I worked, trained and did what I needed to ensure their happiness while putting mine to the side. I spend the next year, rehabilitating myself and coming up with ways to speak and write again. I couldn’t give up.

I had been sharing my story on social media for years and after contemplating about it long and hard, I decided to share my journey online. I played my piano and sang songs of thanksgiving while sharing my testimony of what I was grateful for. I didn't worry or care about what was to come, I just needed to get my story out. My testimony started to be shared online and on social media, I was nominated for Top 100 Influencer for 2021 in Atlanta by my one of my mentors. I went through many phases of learning how to trust again and how to receive love again. When an illness comes upon you, you see who is truly there for you. I was alone and I had to learn how to love again. I had been hurt by so many that I almost gave up and let go of that word Love. I reminded myself that my faith has an eternal connection that man cannot break. The Holy Spirit cheers me on daily as I speak online, impacting women and ensuring them that they are able to have the live they so choose once they heal. Healing is a passionable gift of grace and has a layer of protection that will be forever nurtured as long as faith has a place in our hearts. I dedicated my life to be the “Mom Healing Hearts” as I know that everyday I practice being healed and thats an unspeakable joy. I want to continue to spread healing love to those that may feel they are forgotten and that no one sees them. I am grateful to know that through all of my challenges, trials and growth moments, God hasn’t failed me yet. He continues to nurture me with His undying love and reminds me that I am His chosen. I will continue to share my testimony and teach other moms of what life is like being a mom healing hearts.

There is a dead end street with only two houses on it in the town where I grew up. It was even renamed Pelchat Street because my grandfather Pelchat worked for the city his whole life. A stream flows across the end of the street and on the other side is a cemetery where many family members are buried. The two houses belonged to my father and his father.

It was in this place that I experienced the most painful rejection. And it was here my father lived when he returned from 3 years away after he and mom divorced. As a 13 year old, I didn’t want to see him, but the court required us to have visitation.

So every Sunday my brothers and I would climb into dad’s car and spend the day watching roller derby or American football. Dad cooked steaks and corn on the cob. We also ate lots of ice cream!

Dad and I had a history of gardening, so we enjoyed that together as well, growing our favorite vegetables and flowers. Once we grew what he affectionately called ‘the money plant’. The flowers are silver iridescent flat circles that look like a silver dollar.

This activity soothed the pain of our family’s earlier dysfunction and violence, at least momentarily. We had visitation. Yet we did not have loving habitation.

My grandfather lived in the other house. Nana had passed years earlier, and Grampa was a very quiet, tall and reclusive person. I distinctly remember several times running into him in the yard, or even seeking him out to say hello. He would glance towards me and call me by my younger cousin’s name. Cindy. I love my cousin, but I’m not her, and I would stand there in shock as he kept walking.

It took me a time or two, but eventually I found my voice and replied with my given name, to which he would grunt and keep walking.

The distance I felt from that man, my own grandfather, is still palpable all these years later. I have forgiven him, but it doesn’t change what happened, only my reaction to it.

Our Father in Heaven is a good, good father. He loves me so much that He has even chosen a new name for me. He has one for you, too. His love and care for me is so great, that He didn’t want me to be stuck on Pelchat Street, feeling unworthy and unloved by a man who was doing the best he could, with his own pain, personal history, upbringing and beliefs.

So in that healing vision, Papa God, came to stand with me in the middle of Pelchat Street. He just stood there with me. I welcomed His presence. It felt so strong and enduring. And then He said to watch as He would wash away all the ‘bad stuff’.

The stream began to rise, and the waters grew in size until they completely covered the street, us and the houses. He stood there with me while the waters washed away my painful history. Washed away was the rejection, the confusion, the darkness and the need to stay tethered to that place. The events of that place no longer define me. My Heavenly Father tells me who I am and to whom I belong. His love is pure, constant and free.

You know, one of the most intimate times in my life was in that vision and one that followed. In ‘real life’ it took a couple weeks of standing in that street with Father God. I kept seeing us just standing there. I finally asked if we would stand there forever. The reply I received was Papa God taking my hand and inviting me to walk away! Since I said yes, I saw us walk up Pelchat Street, we took a left, walked through town and right out the other side. We are still walking together. The vision has faded now that healing has come to my (previously) incredibly bruised and wounded heart. But I know that His love is enduring and more intimate than any relationship I have ever experienced.

The paradigm shift from being a daughter and granddaughter of obviously deeply wounded men, to learning and ‘knowing’ that I am a beloved child of the Living God, The Creator of All, has been the most profound experience of my life.

I have always been everybody’s cheerleader even when I was not cheered on. My mission was to encourage and motivate everyone in my circle to be the best version of themselves that they could be. When I was growing up, I was told quite often that I need to stop lecturing because I would hold my friends accountable for their actions and correct them when they did wrong. (Most people didn’t like that, heck, they still don’t. lol) To me, helping solve problems and meeting needs was normal because I saw my granny do it. She never met a stranger and never let anyone go without. We were the house were everyone would come for meals, fellowship, and Bible study. Granny would load all the neighborhood kids in her station wagon and drive them to church on Sundays then feed and teach them the bible on Wednesdays. Noone was left behind. Granny raised me so I was in church every Sunday. I knew that Bible like the back of my hand. The kids would be mad at me because I would win the bible trivia all the time. Because I was around my granny all the time, I took on some of her characteristics. I thought I could fix and help everybody. That wasn’t good because it led to a lot of lost friendships and broken hearts. It just proved the bible to be right, the road to hell is broad and the road to heaven is narrow. People didn’t want to be fixed. They would hang around long enough to get what they want and move on. Being everybody’s cheerleader can be both tough and rewarding because people like to be cheered on when it sounds good, but will that push them to do better or will they become dependent on you? I’ve had people in my life that when they are down or going through difficult situations or if they need to be lifted, encouraged, and/or motivated to keep moving, guess who they call? You guessed it, me. I’ve even been given the nickname, cheerleader. 

Intimacy with God and people as it relates to a heart wound I have dealt with but still rears its ugly head occasionally.

When I was 14 I had a great relationship with my father as well as my Heavenly Father. I was very trusting to my own detriment. We were Catholic and I was very taken by the possibility of becoming a priest one day. My mother befriended a young priest from our parish who came to our house often. I admired him and the life-style he lived as a "man of God."

Long story short this priest sexually abused me. I told no one and fell into depression, drug use and isolation. My relationship with my Heavenly Father was something I had no use for and I blamed Him for what happened to me. As far as my earthly father, that relationship changed too mostly due to my drug use and isolation/shame/guilt and embarrassment.

Fast forward 14 years and I'm backsliding into addiction and other unsavory behaviors. My relationship with God is still non-existent, my father and I are more distant than ever and my family life was falling apart.

Then one day I found myself incarcerated as a result of my drug use and my world totally fell apart. Yet God was actually there in prison waiting for me. By that I mean He led me to the every Friday night bible study. I thought I was going for the free coffee and the time off for good behavior. Little did I know He was just trying to get me to pay any type of attention to Him even if it were negative.

That part of my life eventually ended, but my disdain for God did not, until I met Tricia, my current wife. She was the first person I would tell about my abuse as a 14 year old. She encouraged me to seek treatment, report the priest and find a way to make peace with my past. Well to do that took an eventual relationship with Christ and a willingness to forgive the priest, stop blaming God and stop my self-destructive behaviors.

We all have heart wounds. Men typically have many, related to their relationship with their fathers. And it's not until those are dealt with that we can begin to see we are actually His beloved son, just as Jesus is.

Tricia, my wife, has been my biggest cheerleader. A woman truly sent by God to bring me to my best self. To the person I was born to be and someone who God has chosen to share my experience, strength and hope with others.

Jimi's new book - Daddy I have Cancer is his journey with his daughter's diagnosis and ultimate death will be available soon.

Being a single mom of 5 children, experiencing chronic homelessness and rejection, only to finally get in a position of healing and restoration, to being stricken with health barriers, has only shown me how strong I really am.

I know faith has been on my tongue and fear cast aside. There were times I wanted to give up and felt I was letting so many people down because I was no longer the one with the voice or the strength to be what I needed to be when they needed me.

I wanted to be there for my children. I saw them growing up before my eyes and I was missing out working and studying. I just wanted to be present for them and be able to provide as well.

I realized that my time would come when I could make the strides to success once I forgave myself. I always had a guilt of letting myself and those around me down. There was never the right time to speak or share my story to anyone because it came with a massive weight of mental illness and emotional distress. I believe they call it a “Debbie Downer”. I just wanted to contribute to society from a posture of “I am a mom who has it together” rather than the mom that needed to get it together.

I would be angry with myself as I prayed and asked God so many times what I was doing? What did I miss? Why did I need to continue this path of endless heartache? After all, my children heard my nights of crying and for once I only wanted to bare a smile and then wear one as well. In April 17, 2019, life changed for all of us. I would be in college for my music degree in elementary education only to be knocked out of my finals with a stroke that shook my family.

Here we go again with another thing I didn’t complete. I was angry, frustrated but more than anything embarrassed. I always did what I needed to do and make things happen for our family, however this time, I was the one who needed help. This time, my children were my help. The pain and overwhelm of not being able to let go of the control a mom has to ensure the life balance in the home, would no longer matter. I wasn't able to feed myself at times, my coordination was off, my hands were weak and I could barely get my brain to communicate with my mouth so that words made sense. I was sad and broken.

I would go on to find ways to figure out life again. At the time the pandemic hit so hard, I was unable to get care the way most would, as everything was shut down. I just knew this was it. I would experience terrors, I was unable to sleep at times due to the different things my body would go through. I was not able to express clearly what I was going through and truly felt I was a burden to my family and I just wanted to run and hid.

Here I was always teaching the children about faith and trusting God and I was literally going through the battle. I had many times I wanted to give up. I screamed. I cried. My new way of transportation was in my wheelchair and my support was a neck pillow to keep my head from sitting on my shoulders. I would look at myself in the mirror and say “who are you” Something about a full life transformation. I felt as if I was being the clay in the potters house.

There were so many new things I learned about myself. I needed rest. My body was tired. I had been raising my children for 20 years and I never took a day off. I worked, trained and did what I needed to ensure their happiness while putting mine to the side. I spend the next year, rehabilitating myself and coming up with ways to speak and write again. I couldn’t give up.

I had been sharing my story on social media for years and after contemplating about it long and hard, I decided to share my journey online. I played my piano and sang songs of thanksgiving while sharing my testimony of what I was grateful for. I didn't worry or care about what was to come, I just needed to get my story out. My testimony started to be shared online and on social media, I was nominated for Top 100 Influencer for 2021 in Atlanta by my one of my mentors. I went through many phases of learning how to trust again and how to receive love again. When an illness comes upon you, you see who is truly there for you. I was alone and I had to learn how to love again. I had been hurt by so many that I almost gave up and let go of that word Love. I reminded myself that my faith has an eternal connection that man cannot break. The Holy Spirit cheers me on daily as I speak online, impacting women and ensuring them that they are able to have the live they so choose once they heal. Healing is a passionable gift of grace and has a layer of protection that will be forever nurtured as long as faith has a place in our hearts. I dedicated my life to be the “Mom Healing Hearts” as I know that everyday I practice being healed and thats an unspeakable joy. I want to continue to spread healing love to those that may feel they are forgotten and that no one sees them. I am grateful to know that through all of my challenges, trials and growth moments, God hasn’t failed me yet. He continues to nurture me with His undying love and reminds me that I am His chosen. I will continue to share my testimony and teach other moms of what life is like being a mom healing hearts.