04/30/2026
This is the story of how I came to know—without a doubt—that it was God all along.
When I finally got out on my own, I didn't fully understand what that meant.
I was emancipated from foster care at 16 and went to stay with my boyfriend at the time’s mom. It felt like a step toward independence, but it didn’t last long. By 17, that relationship ended, and I was completely on my own, or so I thought.
No safety net. No real direction. Just this quiet pressure in the back of my mind that said, "You have to figure this out."
So I made a plan.
I was going to join the Marines.
It felt like structure—like something solid I could build my life on. Like if I could just make it there, everything would finally make sense.
Around that same time, I met this person, and we fell into what I can only really describe now as toxic love. It was intense, emotional, confusing—but at the time, it felt like connection, and I think I needed that more than I realized.
I remember one day saying, kind of joking—but also not really—
“Jesus, I just want to be a Marine… or a mom.”
At the time, it felt like I was throwing two completely different lives out into the air.
I didn’t expect an answer.
But about a month before I was supposed to ship out… I found out I was pregnant.
And just like that, everything shifted.
I remember trying to make sense of it—like, okay… maybe this is what it’s supposed to be.
But before I could even fully process it…
I lost the baby.
And not long after that, he and I went our separate ways.
Everything that had felt so intense just… stopped.
That loss—both of those losses—did something to me. I didn’t have language for it back then, but it felt deeper than grief. It felt personal. Like I had reached for something good and it was taken from me anyway.
That’s when I started numbing out.
Drugs, alcohol… not in a reckless way, just enough to not feel everything all at once. Enough to quiet the questions I didn’t have answers to.
But even in that place, something in me didn’t fully give up.
When I was 18, that “something” turned into a decision—I was going to get custody of my little brother.
He was 16.
Looking back, it doesn’t even sound realistic. I was barely an adult myself, trying to piece my life together… but I was determined in a way I can’t fully explain.
So I did what I thought I needed to do.
I got clean.
I got married, because in my mind that meant stability.
I stood in court and told them I could do this.
And somehow… they believed me.
Later, the workers told me that every sibling says they’re going to do what I did—but I was the only one they had seen actually follow through.
I took that seriously.
I became his sister and his mom at the same time. I made sure he had the life I always dreamed of—support, structure, someone showing up for him no matter what.
At the same time, I was still trying to build something bigger.
I was a high school dropout, so I got my GED, then went back and got my diploma through a credit recovery program in Louisiana. I kept trying to go back to the military because in my mind, that was still the answer.
But life kept redirecting me.
I got pregnant again.
And I remember thinking… this feels familiar.
But this time, I carried my baby to term. I had my son, and everything changed in a completely different way.
By then, my brother was in college in Oklahoma, and I was trying to figure out what my life was supposed to look like now.
I even tried to go back to the military when my son was about 6 months old. But when they told me I would have to sign over custody while I was away…
I knew I couldn’t do it.
So I let that dream go.
And for the first time, I didn’t have a clear plan waiting behind it.
I just had this responsibility… and this need to figure something out.
So I asked.
I didn’t know Jesus the way I do now. Not even close. But I remember saying,
“If the military isn’t it… then I need something else. I have to be able to take care of my son.”
And somehow, things started to open up.
I was scrolling Facebook one day and came across egg donation. It didn’t feel random—it felt like an answer.
I went through with it, and it helped me in a real, practical way. I was able to pay off my car after losing my job during pregnancy. It kept me afloat.
But eventually, that wasn’t enough either.
And again… I asked.
Still not knowing Him, still not understanding—I just kept reaching.
That’s when I found surrogacy.
And something about it just felt right. I remembered the joy of carrying life—not for me this time, but for someone else.
Within a month, I was matched with a couple who would become a huge part of my story.
Long story short… I carried five of their children.
Two sets of twins, and one single.
That season changed everything.
It’s how I was able to buy my land. It’s how I built a home for my son—even if it was just a small single wide trailer. It was ours. It was something I had built from nothing.
And through all of that, I felt like something was with me.
Guiding me. Providing. Opening doors at exactly the right time.
But I didn’t call it God.
I called it “the universe.”
Because that felt easier. Safer. Less personal.
But looking back… even then, there were threads in my life that never fully disappeared.
That person was one of them.
After we split, we didn’t talk for about ten years.
Life moved on. I moved on… or at least I thought I had.
But we had shared a dog—my sweet Chubbs.
And one day, after all those years, I found myself having to make one of the hardest decisions. Chubbs had cancer, and it had gone too far. I knew it was time to let him be at peace.
And something in me told me I needed to reach out.
So I messaged him.
Just to let him know… in case he wanted to say goodbye too.
He couldn’t make it.
But we talked.
Not in some big, emotional way… just a quiet reconnection in the middle of something heavy.
And then life moved on again.
Two more years passed.
Until one day, out of nowhere, I got a simple message from him.
“Hello.”
And I ignored it at first.
But something about it stayed with me. Not loud, not urgent… just this quiet feeling that wouldn’t go away.
So eventually, I responded.
Just a simple “hello back.”
And that conversation… the one I almost didn’t have… ended up shifting something in me.
It softened something.
It made me reflect in a way I hadn’t before.
And without realizing it at the time, it helped prepare my heart for what came next.
Because not long after that, everything I thought I understood started to change.
I was in my fifth marriage, having a conversation about providing. I was trying to explain everything I had done—everything I had built—and it was dismissed.
And it hurt.
Because I knew what it had taken for me to get there.
And in that moment, something clicked.
Is this what I’ve been doing?
Giving credit to everything I can see… but not to the one who made it possible?
Not long after that, I had a thought that didn’t feel like it came from my own mind:
“What if it all circles back to God in the end?”
I wasn’t fully convinced yet.
Until I said it out loud.
And he didn’t hesitate.
He said, “Yes. It does.”
And he invited me to church.
And when I went… it didn’t feel new.
It felt familiar.
Like everything I had been feeling all along finally had a name.
Everything I had been calling “the universe”…
The peace, the guidance, the provision…
It was God.
It had always been God.
And now I know.
And if you’re reading this and wondering where God is in your life…
He’s there.
Even if you don’t see Him yet.
Even if you’ve been calling Him something else.
Even if you feel like you’ve been doing it all on your own.
Sometimes you don’t realize it until you look back and see the pattern.
But He was there the whole time, I'm sure of it.
-Ginger
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