God’s Refuge was not born from one moment. It was born through a journey — faith, barriers, rejection, survival, support, community, pain, healing, and becoming.

For a long time, I thought my life was made up of separate stories. Shelters. Community programs. Children. Seniors. Rejection. Mentors. Losses. Opportunities. Survival. But looking back now, I realize God was weaving one vision together all along.

Throughout my life I kept seeing needs. I saw hungry children. I saw seniors sitting alone. I saw people struggling but not fitting into the categories required to receive help. I saw families and individuals falling through the cracks. And I always found myself asking: Who’s going to help?

That moment became a mission. I wanted every child who crossed my path to know somebody cared. That mission became lunch programs, computer labs, community days, mentoring, showing up, and creating spaces where people felt seen.

During one lunch program there was a young boy who constantly caused trouble — not because he was bad, but because of circumstances I would later learn about. I put him out of the program because I wanted the space to remain safe and respectful. I still made sure food reached him and his siblings, but I told him he could not come back until things changed. Day after day he came back asking: “Can I come back now?” The third day I finally said: “Come on. You can be my helper today.” He lit up. He served lunches. He smiled. He felt included. I didn’t just give him food — I gave him belonging. Years later I saw him again, and he excitedly told me about football and the direction his life was taking. Sometimes people do not need to be thrown away. Sometimes they need structure, accountability, opportunity, and somebody willing to see beyond behavior.

But my journey was not without rejection. I often found myself under other people’s umbrellas. I had ideas, dreams, and visions that were bigger than the spaces I was operating in. Community events. Career days. Movie nights. Programs for children and families. Many times I heard: No. Ideas were shut down. Doors closed. People misunderstood my intentions. There were moments my light felt dimmed. Moments I questioned myself. Moments I felt unseen. But even rejection was teaching me something: I wasn’t trying to build power. I was trying to build freedom to serve.

Life eventually brought me through places I never expected. Shelters. Hard seasons. Moments where I needed refuge myself. And even there, I kept seeing needs. I saw elderly people in shelters and wondered: Who dropped the ball? I saw children trying to smile through uncertainty. I saw systems helping people while still leaving gaps. But I also saw generosity. I saw support. I met mentors who changed my life — people who invited me into rooms I never thought I belonged in, people who saw something in me before I fully saw it in myself. Because support changes outcomes.

And somewhere in this journey, I learned another hard truth: I was not only serving people. I was also a mother trying to survive, heal, grow, and become. I was not perfect. My son and I walked through hard seasons together, and as he grew older, I learned that children sometimes carry parts of journeys differently than parents do. That truth humbled me. Because becoming does not mean perfection. Becoming means learning. Becoming means healing. Becoming means growing.

God’s Refuge was born from one simple belief: People deserve food. People deserve safety. People deserve hope. People deserve support. And everybody deserves to know one thing:

Somebody cares.