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puppyluver256 · 2 years

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My Deconversion Story

It’s just occurred to me that I don’t think I’ve ever told the exact story as to why I am an atheist. Considering certain events and recent experiences, I feel like it’s a story that could stand to be told to the fullest that I can recall.

Buckle up, pups, it’s gonna be a long one.

I have to preface this with a suspicion I’ve had for the past few years: despite being raised in an environment where belief in jesus and god were taken as A Given, I don’t actually know if I ever truly believed in the bible stuff. I don’t think I ever took it super-seriously the way some people end up doing when they’re heavily indoctrinated as kids. My dad, while raised methodist, was never super enthusiastic about religion. My mom still affirms her belief in a god and jesus to this day, even with the occasional questioning of such, but she only ever took me to church because my grandmother (her adoptive mother, we’ll go into more detail with her later) played the piano at that church. Once she stopped playing, we stopped going, and even during the sunday school stuff things were never pushed to the point of “if you don’t believe all this is real You Will Burn Forever”.

Or if they were, I didn’t pay much attention.

Another thing you gotta understand is that I am autistic, even though I didn’t know about that myself until after college. (I was diagnosed, but never told about it.) I think that may play a role into why even the mildest indoctrination never really “took” with me. Obviously I knew of jesus as a concept, and I had the vaguest kid-friendly knowledge of some bible stories because I watched some Veggie Tales stuff. I specifically remember my really cringey way of drawing asterisks as a kid: “a cross + :D with jesus on it X :D” But I don’t think I ever thought of any of that as “real” any more to my child brain than I thought of Pokemon being “real”. And I wanted Pokemon to be real so, so bad.

I was never told by my parents that bad behavior or having certain undesirable traits would send me to hell. I was never threatened with eternal torture for anything. The worst instance of hell I managed to process as a kid was that “go to hell” was a comeback to throw at other kids on the playground. It was never something I was meant to take seriously.

When I started getting into middle school, I started to realize that people actually were taking the god thing seriously and it wasn’t just the “weird thing the adults do to influence the morals of the kids” thing I thought it was. I was starting to notice that they were taking it seriously enough to be against The Gays, at least. I never had problem with The Gays, mostly because of an experience years earlier when I and a girl classmate kissed and people taunted us and called us gay (that’s another story, and how that came back to mind with my recent realization that I am a romantic lesbian is something to be saved for another time). I will admit at the time I thought it was a choice to be gay, much less in the “choosing something bad over something good” sense and more like “choosing to have delicious pizza for lunch instead of an equally delicious cheeseburger”, but that was because a boy I didn’t like had made a presentation that it was not a choice to be gay and I hadn’t quite matured enough to realize that yes, you can agree with someone you dislike, especially when it’s a proven fact rather than a subjective opinion.

(though I think I started to realize people were taking the whole “god” thing seriously a few years earlier, when they started attacking certain groups for following their god in a different way because of the actions of a certain pocket of assholes, but that’s not really my story to tell as I was never directly affected by all of that beyond being shown the broadcast of that inciting incident on TV at school WHYYYY WOULD YOU SHOW THAT TO NINE YEAR OLDS)

Remember me mentioning that maternal grandmother earlier? Well now we’re coming back to her. She was the hardcore christian in the family. She was the one who played piano at church. She was the one who most likely influenced my mom into taking me to church and being enrolled in the sunday school. Her house was COVERED in jesus memorabilia. And despite the fact that she would watch Logo (a queer-themed channel on satellite TV that may or may not still exist) on a regular basis, she believed any “lifestyle” that wasn’t cishet was An Abomination. She wouldn’t word it like that specifically, but when I knew about this, I knew. (And yet she never had a problem with me being so into Pokemon. At least she had her division between reality and most fiction set up pretty solidly, or rather the division between secular and religious fiction.)

Now we get to me at the age of 14. I literally only know that it had to have been 14 because this was when I was in my Muppet hyperfixation and I had brought the DVD set of season 1 of the Muppet Show on my weekend sleepaway to...this grandmother’s house. One night, as we were talking about something, she began to shake unexpectedly. I knew she had diabetes. I had been briefed about how to help her if she went into diabetic shock. I had not, however, been briefed on what the signs of diabetic shock were. I thought she was playing around. I had laughed. I didn’t realize what exactly was happening until her husband rushed in and forced a cookie into her mouth, at which point the shaking slowly subsided.

And then it hit me. I had watched her experience a medical emergency and I had laughed.

I was 14. I was uninformed. I was wracked with guilt.

And my guilt was about to be used against me.

Since this was a weekend with the god-fearing granny (which btw, why would a supposedly benevolent god insist on its creations fearing it? but that’s a side tangent), she had of course taken me to church with her. Maybe Friday night, likely Saturday night, definitely Sunday morning. Church was not enjoyable at 14 as it had been at 5-6. I didn’t get to spend time away from the service among peers, I didn’t even get cheesy crackers and appl juice (or the more “cool” equivalent for a teenager) to snack on while the adults droned on with their boring songs. I could tune it out, but I don’t even remember if I was allowed to bring my drawing supplies with me to keep me occupied in the meantime. At some point, my grandmother had convinced me to get a baptism. Or maybe I had convinced myself that getting a baptism--doing something related to the religion she seemed to care about so much--would help mend the damage I had seemingly done by laughing at my grandmother’s medical distress. She was delighted. My parents were called and asked to come to the church to see their child become “washed clean” as a “(child) of god”.

I was brought to the church. I was put in a white full-body smock and led to the pool at the front of the service hall. If my assumptions about what was to come had been correct, I would likely still be trapped in a metaphorical contract with a fictional god that I now know for a fact cannot be real. Ah yes, I neglected to mention that I have--or at least had--a mild case of hydrophobia. Having water poured over my head isn’t so bad. Having my head pushed underwater, absolutely a no go.

This church did full immersion baptisms.

Once I learned this, I couldn’t go through with it. I protested, I begged the person who intended to baptize me not to put me under, I didn’t want it anymore, I couldn’t do it. This person thankfully understood, as did my parents, who would later tell me that they thought it was weird that I’d wanted to get baptized considering I had never really been serious about the bible stuff. But sooner than that, I would hear of my grandmother’s perspective on the whole thing via my mother.

“Ohhhh I’m so worried for Jess, (they’re) not baptized and I’m terrified (they’re) going to go to hell!”

“(They’ll) be fine, (they’re) a good person.”

“But (they’re) not baptiiiiized! (They haven’t) accepted Jesuuuus! (They’ll) fall into siiiiiin and never get a boyfriend!”

“And what would you do if (they were) a lesbian?” (note: I did not realize I was romantically into girls at this point, I only knew I was asexual)

“Oh, I’ll pray for (them).”

This botched baptism and the fallout thereof was the catalyst for two things. One was the beginning of my further distancing from religion. The other was the beginning of the end of my relationship with this grandmother. Hearing about how she’d gaslit my mother and being trapped at her house for family gatherings a few years later when she couldn’t (and her husband wouldn’t) properly clean up after her dogs and making my allergies activate so hard that I consistently sneezed so frequently I pissed myself absolutely did not help in the latter part.

As for the distancing religion thing, I stopped saying “under god” in the pledge in the mornings. I even stopped saying it in the Spanish version of my Spanish class. That was the only time I got in trouble for it, and at least there it was slightly understandable because I was there to learn the language and not necessarily proclaim an allegiance to a god that I had no interest in pretending to believe in. Eventually I just stopped saying the pledge altogether.

Over the years I could see even more how fervent people can be when it comes to religion. I was forced to wear long pants to my birthday party in June in Kentucky and be incredibly uncomfortable because of that grandmother and the fact that we had rented out a building that just happened to be on the same property as a church simply because “ladies don’t wear shorts in church even if it’s like 80 degrees out and really humid because upper south” (but hey, I ain’t even a lady anymore and we weren’t in church, shame this bitch ain’t around anymore cuz then I could tell her to eat it!!). I was yelled at by roommates by referring to the bible as a “storybook” without even saying that I specifically meant “fictional storybook” (a memoir is a storybook too, y’know). [You might’ve seen the story of me trying desperately to avoid an evangelizer.] I’ve seen countless apologists insist that I and people like me “know” their god exists and that we “suppress that knowledge in unrighteousness”. People like me are painted as cold, hateful, uncaring, immoral, self-serving, egotistical assholes, all because we are not convinced of the idea that there is a higher being that made us or literally anything else in their favorite storybook.

I wasn’t heavily indoctrinated like a lot of former christians might be. I wasn’t pulled out of school because I mentioned the teachers telling us about Neanderthals rather than adam and eve. I never grew up worrying whether I would get into heaven or hell, never worrying how I would spend an eternity that honestly sounds like an awful thing in and of itself even without the potential intended torture. I was never encouraged to watch creationist propaganda in place of fun science shows. Veggie Tales was easily consumed as a secular product with my mind filtering out the god stuff despite it being front and center. (is it any coincidence the best VT content is always when it’s more secular, at least on the surface?) There was more crying and heartache over learning that Santa Claus wasn’t real than there was in realizing that there was no god. Santa Claus was a decent dude, and if you were “bad” the worst he would do would be to leave you a less extravagant present that would at least have kept you warm back in the day. The god of the bible is written as a petty tyrant that would allow every innocent person in the world burn just for the victimless “crime” of not believing in it and fulfilling every demand it gave of them, and I am glad to be rid of it before it could worm its way deeper into my brain than it had been able to.

But I understand that I’m one of the lucky ones. My most negative direct experiences with christianity ended with my hydrophobia kicking in, most of what’s happened since then is the typical internet evangelist being their typical annoying self, and the threat of hell has never worked on me beyond informing me of how unlikeable someone who tries to use that threat often is. Not everyone is so lucky. There are those forced into religious schools whether or not they believe, those whose parents complain to public schools that dare to teach the understood facts of evolution rather than the fairy tale of creationism, those who are denied from expressing anything even remotely queer or sexual independence or divergence from strict gender roles because idk some nonsense about the fictional concept of “sin”, those who can’t access important physical or mental health care because people in charge want to deny them that right under bizarre reasoning like “that fetus has a soul and if you stop it from growing that’s MURDER” or “you are a man/woman because you have a penis/vagina and it’s wrong to change that and there’s definitely NO other option besides male and female”, those who have seemingly no way to escape the Grasp Of God that life has dropped them into.

I don’t speak out against christianity’s wrongdoings, christianity’s overreach, and fundamentalist christianity’s refusal to accept any facts about history and nature and science because I just want to whine about something I find distasteful. I speak out against it because it is inherently wrong, and for the people who currently can’t speak out. For the people who’ve had it worse than me. For the people who are having concerns about the religion they’ve been brought up in and are too afraid to ask themselves those incredibly burning (metaphorically) questions less they risk finding themselves burning (literally) in a world that never even existed in that silly old book to begin with.

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Feel free to reblog, but if you do please take care to keep the content warning tags or tag further if you feel it warrants it. I am aware that I dug heavy into christianity here, but that’s because that’s what I’m even vaguely familiar with. If you want to hear someone speaking out against some other religions, go talk to an apostate from those religions, because I’m not going to rail against something I’m not properly informed about.

This is not an invitation to proselytize. Do not try and convert me or anyone else that interacts with this post either in the notes or in my inbox. If you wanna try that crap, make your own post on your own blog.

#jess's boring life #knock knock get the door it's religion #or lack thereof #atheism #deconversion #christianity tw #christianity mention #hell mention #diabetic shock mention #homophobia mention #unsanitary mention #anti-abortion mention #transphobia mention #ask to tag further

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just-antithings · 3 months

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Fictional characters are to antis what "the unborn" are to pro-lifers.

Fictional characters, like the fetus, are the epitome of everything good the anti/pro-lifers wants to demonstrate on their crusade. They're uncomplicated. They're abstract. They are exactly what the arguer thinks they are in that moment. They will never disagree with the arguer and never make demands of their own.

Pro-lifers rarely help born people, and in fact gleefully call for the deaths of born people, because born people make demands, and have their own free wills, and sometimes make mistakes. The unborn will always be a perfect being, a tragedy, a what could have been; "what if the baby you aborted could have cured cancer?"

Antis rarely care for real people, and in fact often gleefully abuse them for disagreeing with their stances, because real people make demands, have their own free wills, and sometimes make mistakes. Fictional characters will always be perfect, and a tragedy, and a what-if; "what if the fictional character knew you shipped them with a literal child?"

Fictional characters are a way for antis to "care" about abuse/rape without actually confronting the reality that abuse survivors, as with anyone else, are messy people who have flaws and don't agree on any one issue. Just as fetuses are a way for pro-lifers to control the abortion debate with an image that is solely about shallow, unearned pathos, and never about the beings that currently occupy this world.

Both are the weak attempts of a person who likes the IDEA of doing/being good, but not the actual work that goes into making the world a better place. You can see it in how they react to anyone who disagrees with them with unrestrained vitriol and hatred. It isn't about "protecting life" or "protecting abuse/rape victims", but about being SEEN as someone who wants to protect life or protect rape/abuse victims.

Sorry for the long ask but I had this thought a while ago and wanted to share it.

Oh yeah they’re very similar mindsets

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #just asshole things #abortion mention #rape mention #abuse mention #cancer mention #death wishes mention

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charlesoberonn · 2 years

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"average American female has 3 abortions per year" factoid just statistical error. average american female has 0 abortions per year. Abortions Georgiana, who lives in a cave & has 1,000,000 a day, is an outlier adn should have not been counted.

#abortion mention #spiders georg #anti-choice #pro-choice #pro-life

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this-world-of-beautiful-monsters · 3 months

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Was reminded of nattikay's existence and got inspired, decided I might as well use the poll function.

No "show option." Choose or face my blade. Reblog for more votes, etc.

@mayfriend @midnight1404 @kayjaydee17 @freshairforrabbits @bl00dw1tch @makitesuli

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thepro-lifemovement · 11 months

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https://womensmentalhealth.org/posts/abortion-does-not-increase-womens-risk-for-suicide/

This article is quite confusing because they claim abortion didn't raise suicide attempts, but then say that nearly 3% of women attempted suicide after their abortion. They claim there wasn't an increase in attempts.

"Among the 48,990 women who had an abortion, 1402 (2·9%) had a first suicide attempt after an abortion. In this group of women, the risk for making a suicide attempt was the same during the year after the abortion as during the year prior to the abortion, confirming that having an aborton did not increase risk for suicide attempt." (I just realized they made a typo with "abortion").

So about 3% had a first suicide attempt after an abortion, but they claim they had the same risk of suicide attempts before? They claim the risk was the same, but three percent of those women actually attempted to take their own life after their first abortion. They also claim that they were just as suicidal before as they were afterward. So abortion did not improve their mental health immediately afterward, either. What factors were causing these women to be suicidal before their abortion? What factors were causing these women to be suicidal after their abortion? What was causing 3% of these women to actually attempt suicide for the first time after their abortion?

"While abortion itself did not increase risk for suicide attempt, the researchers did observe that, as a group, women who had an abortion had about a 2.5-fold higher risk of non-fatal suicide attempts compared to women who did not have an abortion. This suggests that women seeking abortion are a vulnerable population, and that we need to provide additonal supports to this population." (They made another typo with the word "additional." Whoever wrote this did not proofread).

They say abortion did not increase the risk for suicide attempts and then immediately say the women who did have an abortion were 2.5 times more likely to attempt suicide compared to women who didn't have an abortion. Yes, women who seek abortions are more vulnerable and that's why emotional, financial and physical support for pregnant women is so important. This is why Crisis Pregnancy Centers and After Abortion support exists to help these vulnerable women.

I looked at the actual study they were talking about and it says in the conclusion: "We found that women who had abortions had a higher risk of non-fatal suicide attempts compared with women who did not have an abortion. However, because the increased risk was the same both the year before and after the abortion, it is not attributable to the abortion." How can the increased risk be the same the year before the abortion and the year after when they say there was a higher risk? They also don't even mention fatal suicide attempts at all, like my studies did. They only focused on first time abortions and first time non-fatal suicidal attempts. What about fatal? This study is inconclusive and doesn't really compare to my other studies I have linked because this one only focusses on first time abortion patients and first-time suicidal attempts. It excludes women who had suicidal attempts before and women who have had actually succeeded in their suicide attempt. And it even says they were about 3% more likely to actually attempt suicide the first time ever after having an abortion, and then they claim this didn't increase their risk for suicide. They did not include further suicide attempts women may have taken after their abortion since they were only focused on the first time attempt. I know it's trying to say that abortion wasn't the contributing factor, but how do they know that? To me this just shows that women who seek abortion need better support that they weren't receiving over there in Denmark.

I'm looking at the data in this study:

Those who didn't have an abortion had a rate of first suicide attempt of 2.03 compared to those who within a year after abortion of 8.63. And those who gave birth had a first time suicide rate of 1.22, which is lower than every other category. Now this only accounts for first time attempts, and other suicide attempts could occur after the abortion that aren't included because they're not first time attempts.

One big problem I have with this study is they think the 2.5-fold isn't significant, but it means women after the abortion were 2.5 times more likely to attempt suicide. My studies include maternal deaths from suicide, while this one only includes non-fatal suicide attempts. It would be better if they also included fatal suicide attempts, as well.

-Sarah

#anti abortion #pro-life #prolife #pro life #abortion #ask #asks #I wish you sent me all of the links in one ask instead of spamming me #or just reblog my post #data #suicide #suicide mention #suicide tw #death

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cavinginhisfvce · 1 year

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'Unlovable"

Pairing: Harringrove. Fem!Billy x Steve Harrington.

Angst. Miscommunication. Conflict resolution. Unplanned Pregnancy. Mentions of abortion.

This started as a hc post, but quickly spiraled into this mess.

Fem!Billy who believes the fleeting attention of men twice her age is the only way she'll experience love in this lifetime. Even if it's just a little glimpse of love that comes from red knees and bruised wrists, she counts that as a win.

She knows, realistically, that this isn't love. Not the kind that they sing songs about. Not the kind where you want to shout it from the rooftops.

Love was never meant for girls like her. She's too loud, too aggressive, too much like herself. Not enough like the soft girls. Soft girls like Nancy Wheeler, whose smile is like the sun and the waves wrapped up in a pretty little bow.

Even when Nancy shows her rough edges, she's praised for the strength she harbors.

When Billy shows her rough edges, the kind that you develop from years of mistreatment, and abuse, she gets called disgusting.

She hears her father shouting in her face that she's an unlovable whore, like her mother.

She hears Steve telling her she's too abrasive to be anything but a hidden thing. She hears him whispering Nancy's name in place of her own.

It hurts, like nothing she's ever experienced.

But, Steve calls her every night. Steve seeks her out, and not Nancy.

To Billy, it feels better than random men who don't care when it hurts. Who ignores her soft sobs of displeasure in favor of getting off.

Because, despite Steve wishing she was Nancy, he always makes her feel good. Always makes sure she's comfortable and enjoying herself.

It's a win. A luxury that Billy isn't stupid enough to give up.

He always kisses away her tears, ones born of passion, rather than pain. He treats her like he well and truly loves her. Even if he calls her by the wrong name. Even if he wishes she was someone she'll never be.

The day he utters 'Billy' as he finishes inside of her, is coincidentally a week after she found out she was carrying his child. Two days after she made the appointment to terminate the pregnancy.

She isn't stupid enough to have a baby with a man who doesn't want her. She was proof that children bred of obligation and expectations, instead of love, grow up differently than those born from parents who love each other. Parents who would protect and cherish the child they share.

Steve, unlike previous times, doesn't immediately pull out, instead he thrusts into her once more and leans down. He presses a kiss to her neck, mumbling so softly Billy could've missed it.

"I'm tired of pretending you're Nancy. Tired of pretending I don't want you, Billy." He pauses, trailing off. Billy thinks maybe he's done speaking, but again, he's whispering against her warm, flushed skin. "Please keep the baby…"

Billy startles at that, her eyes widening. She wants to shove him away, demand what right he thinks has to tell her what to do with her body.

But, she does neither. Because her brain can't focus beyond the fact that he knows.

He knows and she didn't tell him. She didn't tell anyone.

"How'd you find out?" Her voice is so soft, it barely registers as hers to her own ears.

Steve takes a moment to answer, his lips brushing against her shoulder as he shifts his hips.

The action reminds Billy he's still nestled inside of her. A small gasp punches its way out of her at the almost overwhelming sensation.

"Carol volunteers at the clinic you went to during the holidays." He clamps his mouth shut, certain that Billy will tear into him. But when she doesn't, he continues, "she saw your file and sort of freaked out. Called me and chewed me out for making you get an abortion." He laughs lightly, the sound feels like a lifeline amongst Billy's impending doom.

"She didn't stop yelling until I told her I didn't even know."

Steve sniffles, and Billy finds herself wanting to card her fingers through his hair, so she does.

He leans into the touch almost instantly.

"I'm sorry." She doesn't need to say why, Steve knows why. He gets it.

In truth, Billy didn't want an abortion, she's always wanted at least one child, one she could love the way she wished her mother or father loved her.

But, she also hadn't wanted to be a single, teen mom. Didn't want to do it all alone.

She tells Steve as much, the words just barely forcing themselves out of her.

Steve just peers up at her, a ghost of a smile on his lips, "we can do it together. We can be better than our parents. We'll show everyone that despite our shitty parents, we can do better. Be better."

Billy glances at him, her own lips pulling into a soft grin, "who says I want my baby to be half prep?" Steve just laughs, dropping his head down to gently nip at her shoulder blade, "if this isn't what you want, say so and I'll support you every step of the way. I'll go with you to the appointment, I'll take care of you afterwards. I'll take care of you forever.

But, if you do want this, I promise to be the best fucking boyfriend, and father to our child."

Billy lets out a shuddering breath, her eyes filling with unnecessary tears. They've been doing that a lot more lately.

She nods softly, her fingers gently tugging at the strands of his hair wrapped around them, "okay, Pretty Boy. We can do this together." Billy clicks her tongue, peering at him with a mischievous glint in her bright blue eyes. "But you're telling Max, because I will not listen to her scream about becoming an aunt."

Steve almost immediately agrees, he knows Max will chew him up much like Carol, only for a different reason, but he couldn't find it in himself to care right now.

Instead, he dips down and claims her lips in a kiss that takes her breath away, and leaves Steve feeling a bit winded himself.

What's left unsaid is how to break this news to Billy's father and step-mom. She knows her dad will fly off the handle. Knows he'll make a mess of things.

But, she also knows that Steve will be by her side. She knows he'll pick up the pieces if need be.

They both know they have a lot to truly talk about, especially given the nature of their relationship before now.

Steve, who thought Billy knew he wanted her, but was only pretending for her sake.

And Billy, who thought Steve could never want a girl like her. Not when girls like Nancy Wheeler exist.

Fuck, they had so much to work through before their relationship would ever truly be stable, and secure, but they'd weather the storm together.

#billy hargrove #billy antis dni #billy hargrove deserved better #billy hargrove protection squad #harringrove #steve harrington #fem!billy hargrove #give me fem!billy or give me death #alt fem!billy #harringrove angst/comfort #unplanned pregnancy #mentions of abortion #fuck neil hargrove #mentions of unhealthy relationships with older men #slightly lemon #billy not billie #fem!billy just needs love and healthy relationships #steve was stupid at first #he knows better now #at first he hooked up with her to fill the void nancy left but he quickly realized he wanted billy #but he couldnt tell her bc he thought she wouldnt want him #so in an effort to keep her in even the smallest way he kept up the facade of seeing her as Nancy #unbeknownst to the heartbreak it caused her #they'll figure it out in the end #theyre both incapable of communicating until their hand is forced #theyre made for each other tbh

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cheerfullycatholic · 4 months

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Seeking Spiritual Healing

TW sa mention

Diane Massachusetts, United States

My husband joined the cult, and he wanted me to join. I was in it just a few months and discovered I was pregnant. My son was four years old. I told my son he was going to be a big brother. My husband initially was happy about the baby. I wanted the baby. The cult leader told my husband that he would be violating the precepts of the organization if he supported the pregnancy. They then had me in an all-night session, which included sexual abusive behavior toward me and threatening to take away my four year old if I did have the baby.

The ego stripping and mental torture that they put me through was so severe, breaking down every part of my self-esteem and my self love. I finally cracked.

They assigned cult members, women, to stay with me every day until I had the abortion. On that day my husband accompanied me to the clinic (Florence Crittendon Center in Brighton). I was numb and indifferent.

The woman who interviewed me just proceeded as if I had thought this out carefully; after all I was 27 years old and married. She did not question my decision at all. I remember that when the abortion finished I cried out so loud, a piercing yell, that startled everybody. Then I cried uncontrollably. It was an awful experience. I felt at that moment that my very soul screamed for my baby. I knew that I had done something very bad.

That was 42 years ago.

I had extensive therapy over the years for "post-traumatic stress disorder.” But it was just a few months ago that I attended "Surrendering the Secret.” I believe that I will sign up to attend for another session. It changed my life. I now know that I have been forgiven. I pray for other women to seek spiritual healing.

I know that I have a daughter in Heaven. Her name is Lilly.