The Journey - Winter 2014

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wishes you a very Merry Christmas!

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THE JOURNEY 15 ALEX NSENGIMANA Forgiveness Prevails: Finding God’s Purpose for My Life

20 BOB WASHBURN Unexpected Encounters that Changed My Life

24 LAINE ISAACS The Gift of a Second Chance

28 ADAM YOUNCE Finding Hope and Rest in Jesus

32 HOLLIE WILCOX Trusting God with the Process

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36 KIM FURCHES Winter

38 LARRY BALLOU A Voyage of Honor

40 DAVID MCGRADY Prepared to Serve God’s Children

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828.263.0095

mainstreetmktg@gmail.com 215 Boone Heights Dr. Stuite 202 Boone, NC 28607

The Journey Magazine c Copyright 2014 O

42 PANGSHUA RILEY

The Faithfulness of God Cover photo courtesy of Samaritan’s Purse.

Visit MainStreetMarketingBoone.com to view an online version of this publication.

This magazine is intended to present people’s stories about their personal relationships with God. Though we endeavor to have a diversity of view-points represented in our stories, sometimes we don’t achieve that. However, we always endeavor to let people tell their stories, uncut, as is. Because of this, it stands to reason that we are not always able to personally endorse all that is said, nor can we be held responsible for the total veracity of every story.

The common denominator is that the people who share have experienced God’s love in real ways. The encouragement that we want for you is that you, too can experience His love in whatever challenge you face.

Any type of reproduction of this magazine is prohibited without permission from Main Street Marketing.

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elcome to The Journey Welcome to The Journey! In this edition, we’re excited to introduce two new writers, and wonderful pictures from Daniel Barlow. Besides this, we’re grateful for Samaritan’s Purse allowing us to use their pictures for our feature story about the power of forgiveness.

Pangshua Riley, Laine Isaacs and Daniel Barlow, as well as the photographers from Samaritan’s Purse, have blessed us with their talents in a way that might just make this edition our best yet. You will learn to appreciate what a blessing Laine and Pangshua are to us when you read their personal stories, which they were gracious enough to share. Besides this, we are deeply grateful for the relationship we have developed with Kim Furches, who has become a regular contributor to this publication. You’ll get a glimpse into her warmth and depth in her article entitled “Winter,” and in her contributions to the Larry Ballou story.

The Journey is a magazine that tells stories about people’s spiritual journey into the life-changing love of God. In a world that seems fragmented, polarized and in great turmoil, there is nothing more powerful than the love of God to heal our pain and enable us to demonstrate the kind of patience, love and kindness that our Savior Jesus has shown to us. As we enter a season where we celebrate His birth, you are about to read stories of people’s lives who were significantly changed by the power of His love, and who have become a force for good and love and light in a world that so desperately needs it.

Our lead story is about how love broke through in a nation where over one million men, women and children were murdered in a 3 month span of horrible genocide. Now, twenty years later, the nation is starting to heal as people are discovering the power of love and forgiveness through Jesus Christ. Besides this, we have stories of lives that were transformed and healed in spite of experiencing domestic abuse, bullying, rape, drug addiction, pain and rejection. There’s a story of a miraculous recovery from a lifethreatening, debilitating brain tumor, and a nice guy who discovered that being nice is not enough. As a result, he asked Jesus into his heart and realized in a profound way, the difference between a “head knowledge” and a “heart knowledge” of Jesus.

Finally, we have two heart-warming stories of men who God has placed in jobs where they get to share the compassion and kindness that they have received from God with those who society often overlooks or under values. The Scripture that comes to mind as I ponder all this is 1 Thessalonians 5:14b-15, which says, “Encourage the timid, help the weak, be patient with everyone. Make sure that nobody pays back wrong for wrong, but always try to be kind to each other and to everyone else.”

This Christmas season, it’s my prayer that we’ll all come to know God’s love on a deeper level and share that love with a hurting world.

Ben Cox, Owner of Main Street Marketing & High Country 365

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meet the crew. . .

Ben Cox - Owner Publisher/Editor

Charles Bateman Operations Director

Sarah Lynn Mills Office Manager

Becky Zaragoza Graphic Designer

HC365 Brand Manager

Deck Moser Business Development

Logan Hall Graphic Designer

Kim Furches Freelance Writer

Pangshua Riley Freelance Writer

Laine Isaacs Freelance Writer

Daniel Barlow

Katie Hodges

Photographer

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Photo Courtesy of Samaritan’s Purse

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Forgiveness Prevails Finding God’s Purpose for My Life Alex Nsengimana

A native of Rwanda, Alex Nsengimana (pronounced singe-eh-mah-nah) has seen more in his 26 years than most people have seen in a lifetime. Alex left Rwanda in 2003 to live with a family in Minnesota. Since then, he has grown to love almost everything about life in America, with the exception of ice and snow. After receiving a degree in Pastoral Leadership from Crossroads College in Rochester, Minnesota, Alex now works for Operation Christmas Child in Boone, NC, an organization he has strong personal ties to.

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ometimes, when I look back on my life, I can’t believe everything that God has brought me through.

Before the age of ten, I watched my home, many dear relatives, and life as I knew it disappear before my eyes.

In 1994, I was a 6 year old boy living in Kigali, Rwanda. My mother had died of AIDS two years before, and I never knew my father. When the Rwandan President, Juvénal Habyarimana, was assassinated on April 6, 1994, I had no idea how much the resulting violence would affect me.

The morning of April 7, genocide began in my country. There were two tribes, the Hutus and the Tutsis. My family belonged to the Tutsi tribe. Because President Habyarimana had been Hutu, the Hutus began waging war on the Tutsis, and were ordered to kill all Tutsi children so that the Tutsi population would be wiped out.

When the Hutu militia came to our house, they shot my grandmother, pointed their guns at the rest of us, and threatened to kill us. They looted the house and left.

A week later, the militia came looking for my uncle and killed him, too. It was a miracle that they didn’t shoot me and my brother, because they were supposed to kill all Tutsi children. We later found out that my other uncle was bribing the soldiers by buying them beer, as a way to keep them away from us.

Not long after all of this happened, that uncle came and told us we had to run away. My little brother, older sister, and I fled to my aunt’s house in Kigali, which had been destroyed by all the violence.

Many relatives had sought shelter there, such as it was. I remember that the roof of the house was so thin that we had to sleep under our beds to protect ourselves from all the debris that would rain down on us.

Despite the conditions, my aunt and uncle were innovative people, and came up with the idea to sell beer to soldiers in the living room of the house. It supported us for a while, and I started to feel safe again.

That was all shattered one afternoon

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Once again, though I was unaware of His presence, God had saved my life!

when one of the soldiers broke into our back yard and screamed “Everyone lie down!” As he loaded his gun and threatened to kill us, mysteriously, the bullets fell out of his magazine and onto the ground. Though at the time I had no knowledge of God, he had protected me and my family once again.

Eventually, life in the city became too dangerous and we had to start running again. It was a troubled time. Even something as trivial as being able to cook and eat a single meal was a rarity and a blessing.

I was focused on survival. I had no faith in God. My faith had been in my grandmother, because she had always protected and loved me. Now that she was gone, that faith vanished and everything that happened was, in my eyes, a coincidence.

My family and I ran for several weeks. Rwanda is known as “The Land of a Thousand Hills,” and everywhere we went, there was another hill and another valley. It was in one of these valleys that I witnessed another miracle.

We were running with hundreds of other Tutsi refugees, and I

had gotten separated from my relatives. As we fled, I heard a noise in the distance, which I later recognized as the sound of gunfire. As I sprinted through the field, I slipped and fell on a cow patty, and heard the noise of flying bullets soaring directly over my head. I narrowly missed being shot because, incredibly, I had fallen on a cow patty. I laugh about it now, but it wasn’t funny then!

Not long after, I was reunited with my family and we were taken to a refugee camp by soldiers from the Rwandan Patriotic Front. After two weeks at the camp, one of my relatives and I went to our house in Kigali to scope things out and see if we could go back home. We found that though Hutu soldiers had occupied our home, the majority of our belongings were safe because we had locked them up and they had never found our key, which was hidden in plain sight!

We heard our neighbors outside and went to see them, excited that they had survived! We celebrated with them for a little while, and returned to our house before dark.

Little did we know that those neigh-

bors, people we considered friends, were part of the Hutu militia.

That night, I begged my relative to take me outside to go to the bathroom. She tried to talk me out of it, but I insisted. After we stepped outside, the neighbors broke into our house, and we heard them shouting, “Where are they? We want to finish their family off!” because they thought we were the only survivors. We hid in the bathroom, and returned to the camp safely the next morning.

Once again, though I was unaware of His presence, God had saved my life!

My family remained at the camp for a week, and then it shut down and everyone was sent home.

Though most of my life returned to normal, the city was still deserted, and my aunt and uncle fell ill due to a lack of nutrition. My uncle passed away not too long after, and my aunt began to take a turn for the worse.

In the spring of 1995, when I was 7 years old, my brother and I entered a nearby orphanage, Gisimba Memorial Center. Shortly after we

Photo Courtesy of Samaritan’s Purse

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joined the orphanage, we received word that our aunt had passed away. We were devastated.

This orphanage was built to care for 60-70 children, and yet 250 lived there. These children were survivors of genocide, and dealt with nightmares because of what they had seen. The people who ran the orphanage loved us, but the need was so great!

In 1996, we received gifts from America. When we opened them, we realized they were from Operation Christmas Child. We were told about that greatest gift that was ever given, the gift of grace through Jesus Christ. The gift filled me with hope, and distracted me from my circumstances. It was wonderful to feel hopeful, for the first time in a few years, but at the time, I did not accept Christ as my Savior.

A year after receiving the shoeboxes, my brother and I joined the African Children’s Choir. They took 12 of us from the orphanage to Uganda, where we learned English.

While I was in Uganda, I began to question everything that happened to me. A million people lost their lives during the three months of genocide. Why did I survive? I was no different from any of the children who had died. Why me? If there was a God who loved us, why would He watch while a million of His children were killed? And, most of all, why would He take away the two people who cared most for me, my grandmother and my uncle?

I began looking for answers in the Bible, and grasping for a reason to hope. I read the Bible in English, and in my language, trying to make cross-references. At the time, I didn’t know the full history of the Israelites and the context of this verse, but I came across Jeremiah 29:11: “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

That verse stopped me in my tracks, and I thought about everything that had happened over the course of the past few years.

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I started to see that all of these things that happened were steps in the path that God had for my life, and that His presence was with me from the day I was born. That presence was overwhelming, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore! I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior, and was filled with a desire to find the purpose He saved me for. I was filled with love, and prayed for God to help me share that love with other people.

Over the next two and a half years, my brother and I came to the United States with the African Children’s Choir and toured the country. During those years, so many people continued to show us unconditional love, but I continue to feel incredibly angry with the people who killed my family.

One of the choir chaperones asked me to tell her about my life, and how I came to be at the orphanage. I shared my story with her, and it felt good to tell it. She asked me a question that I wasn’t prepared for: what would I do if I met the person who caused me the most pain?

I knew that the man who killed my uncle and the man who killed my grandmother were those people. I was still so angry, and I searched the Bible for answers.

The Bible said we were created in God’s image, and that meant that the people who killed my family were created in His image also. How could that be? The thought of that made me even angrier.

I asked the choir chaperones to pray with me and asked God to help me heal. For 12 more years, I prayed this prayer.

We finished the choir tour and went back to the orphanage. In 2003, God connected me with a family I had stayed with in Minnesota, and I traveled there to attend high school. Wonderful things were happening in my life, but I was still angry.

I traveled to Rwanda in 2008, and one of my missions was to meet with the men who killed my family. Neither of those men came to the meeting, and I was frustrated and confused. Why wouldn’t God let me meet them after I had prayed for this opportunity? I know now that I

My mother had AIDS, and yet I never contracted it.

I could have been shot many times: the times when my grandmother and uncle were killed, when the soldier at my aunt’s house threatened us but the bullets fell out of his gun, when I was running through a field and slipped, and at our house in Kigali when our neighbors came looking for us.

Instead, God had sent me to an orphanage where I was loved and cared for, and where I was given a gift that reminded me to have hope.

Photo Courtesy of Samaritan’s Purse

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wasn’t ready to meet them.

Finally, in 2013, I traveled to Rwanda with Operation Christmas Child and God answered my prayer.

I went to the prison where the man who killed my uncle was held, and waited. Emotions flooded me.

When he walked into the room, I explained who I was and why I was there. As I listened, Niyoneza Anastase told me the story of how he killed my uncle.

I took a deep breath and said, “I’m not here to accuse you, though you wronged me, but I’m here to do something else.” I began to cry as I told him, “I am here because I saw how God’s power works through forgiveness. I received that power.

I really want to forgive you, so you that can have peace of mind and build a relationship with God. He wants you to come to Him, in spite of what you did.”

I knelt with this man, and began to speak to my Savior. “Father, I pray you’ll bless him.” My tears flowed freely as I said, “I pray your Spirit

Photo Courtesy of Samaritan’s Purse

will be with him and protect him, and he’ll have the peace that comes through You.” The man told me, “I don’t know what came over us,” he said. “We killed everybody. Please forgive us.

When I think of what I did, I always get sick.” Then he asked me to bring the families of the other people he had killed to the prison so he could ask forgiveness of them.

I told him, “I have forgiven you because of the grace of God. I don’t have any hate in my heart toward you. You should also ask God’s forgiveness.”

As I walked out of the prison, I felt that a burden had been lifted off my chest. For years, I had prayed to my Heavenly Father for healing, and He gave it to me in his timing.

When I was first saved, I prayed that God would show me the purpose He had saved me for. I now realize that part of that purpose was to meet with the man who killed my uncle, and share the gospel with him. I don’t know if he received

Christ as his Savior, but I pray that he did.

On that same trip to Rwanda, I got to go to the orphanage where I grew up, and hand out shoeboxes. It was a tremendous blessing to stand where I stood as a child, and watch these children receive their own shoeboxes. That trip was one of the hardest things I ever did, but God used it to heal me. I now work fulltime for Operation Christmas Child, the organization that aided me in finding God. My dream is to lead a church in Rwanda because there are so many people there still living in bondage. I am deeply honored and blessed to be an ambassador for so many children who need to hear of the hope of love given to us through Jesus Christ.

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Written with Laine Isaacs

To find out more about Alex Nsengimana, please contact Samaritan’s Purse at samaritanspurse.org.

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Unexpected

Encounters That Changed My Life Bob Washburn As a graduate of Appalachian State University and Boone resident since the 1980s, Bob Washburn is a familiar face to many. Washburn began his banking career in North Wilkesboro, NC, and later moved to Boone to work with First Union and High Country Bank. Washburn is currently the President of Lifestore Banking and Insurance. He married Glenda Woodring in 1982. He and Glenda are the proud parents of four children and one grandson.

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ost of us had summer jobs growing up. In 1979, mine took place in the Midwest.

I spent the summer in Nebraska, with the exception of one week driving across the Missouri River to some little towns near Council Bluffs, Iowa. You don’t know when life changing events are going to occur, they just sneak up on you, and that happened to me during my week driving into Iowa.

That year, I took a job selling books door to door. It wasn’t nearly as easy as what the company’s propaganda portrayed. They wanted you to make 20 sales calls per day. So you had a few minutes to develop a re-

lationship with a complete stranger, get invited into their home, and then get them to decide to part with some money to purchase books that they didn’t even know they wanted or needed before you knocked on their door.

One day, I knocked on a door and was greeted by a gentleman who invited me in without asking what I was there for. Clearly not the typical sales call. As I walked in, I saw that he was an older gentleman, near retirement age. He offered me a seat and asked if I’d like something to drink. Once again, not typical.

One of the things you do when ob-

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serving people is look to see what is important to them. People display items in their living room that tell a little of their story. I noticed a Bible resting on a nearby reading stand. I thought that was a little odd because he would have to stand to read. After taking a few minutes to get to know each other he shared with me that he was a pastor and was working on his message for Sunday.

He asked me if he could share the central passage from the sermon he was preparing; his Bible was already open to this passage. He went to his stand and read me Romans 10:9-10 which says: “If you declare with your mouth, ‘Jesus is Lord,’ and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved. For it is with your heart that you believe and are justified, and it is with your mouth that you profess your faith and are saved.”

To my astonishment, I started to cry.

The man asked me about my relationship with God, and I told him that I had gone to church since I was a child; I’d even attended confirmation class and worked as a counselor at a church camp the prior summer!

He explained that going to church and having a “head knowledge” of Jesus Christ was not the point. Even though the head knowledge is important, it is worthless if you don’t have Him in your heart.

At that moment, I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior.

At the time, I was in a good place.

I had a job I enjoyed, and I wasn’t drunk, broke, or destitute in any

way. I wasn’t aware of my need for God. But it took this man talking with me for me to realize that it is possible to be a good, responsible guy and not be saved.

When your eyes are opened to the enormity of the gift that Christ has for you, and you understand how far short you fall, the feeling is overwhelming. So, sitting on a sofa in a little town in western Iowa, a pastor working on his message for Sunday took the time to share Christ with me and when I left his home I was a new creation. It still blows me away to think his Bible just happened to be open to that particular passage in the book of Romans.

Growing in the Lord, of course, is another journey. Three years after this, I married the young lady I was dating in college, and today we have four children. In addition to my wife, there were many men whose influence has helped me to grow in the Lord.

Part of growing in the Lord is sharing the good news of Jesus and assisting those in need. In 2006, I went to Sri Lanka with a group from church, including my youngest son, Sam. We were there to assist with tsunami relief efforts. While it had been 18 months since the tsunami had hit this island nation they were still struggling to build back, as over half a million people had been left homeless in a nation of 19 million.

The experience was like nothing else I’ve been through. In the midst of what we would consider poverty were a people that were gracious, hospitable, and constantly expressed gratitude for our presence.

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Throughout the trip, we got to meet with the owners of the homes that were being constructed by local construction workers, with financial support from the North Carolina Baptist Men. We were also assisting with the construction but the local church and workers were accomplishing the majority of the work. Toward the end of our time there, one man, with the help of an interpreter, asked me, “Why did you come all this way to help build my house?”

So I got to share the gospel with a stranger, just like a stranger had shared it with me in 1979. I told him what Jesus had done for me and why he wanted me to come there to help build his house. That even though a terrible event had taken the lives of many and left many more without homes, God loved him and cared for him. I fully believe that God placed both of these men in my life for a purpose.

As I spoke with that man in Sri Lanka, I was crying, and he was crying.

The man did not make a commitment to Christ at that time, but I believe he and I crossed paths for a reason, and I know the pastor in Sri Lanka has, through this process, seen many come to Christ. My prayer is that each one they minister to will also accept this gift of salvation through Christ Jesus.

When I knocked on that stranger’s door in the summer of 1979, I had no idea that what I found inside would change the course of my life. I praise God that he has used me, even if just a little, to share the good news.

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Written with Laine Isaacs & Ben Cox

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THE GIFT OF A

SECOND CHANCE Laine Isaacs

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umor me for a moment, and think back to your senior year of high school. Were you working, planning your graduation, or getting ready for college? In May of 2005, at age 17, I was doing all those things. Then, my life took a very different turn.

It all started in 2004, when I started having headaches for the first time in my life. Soon after, my peripheral vision became blurry and spotty. After a few weeks, it worsened enough that I couldn’t read or watch television, and driving was impossible. I saw many doctors for these symptoms, but none of them offered concrete answers. In April, I began throwing up repeatedly, sometimes up to 20 times a day. Finally, the last doctor I saw was so concerned he insisted I have an MRI scan immediately.

The next morning, I met with a neurologist. I’ll never forget the way she unceremoniously glanced at the MRI images, then turned to me and said, “Don’t be scared, but you have a brain tumor.”

The afternoon that followed was a bit of a blur, but I remember that my family and I drove directly

to Baptist Hospital in Winston-Salem, NC, to see Dr. Thomas Ellis, a neurosurgeon my neurologist had recommended. He explained that the tumor could be especially devastating because it was located on my pituitary gland. My stomach sank as Dr. Ellis told me my condition could be chronic or fatal, but he couldn’t be sure until a biopsy had been done to determine what type of tumor I had, and how it could be treated.

At that point, my high school graduation was eight days away, but I didn’t have the strength to walk across the stage to accept my diploma. As it turned out, my biopsy took place the day before the graduation and I was in the Neurological Intensive Care Unit of Baptist Hospital while my classmates accepted their diplomas.

I was diagnosed with a germinoma, a cancerous brain tumor. My radiation oncologist, Dr. Kevin McMullen, determined I would need 28 sessions of radiation therapy to eliminate the tumor.

Before treatment began, Dr. McMullen’s assistant told me what the consequences of radiation would be.

He explained I would lose most of

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my hair because the radiation would be aimed at my brain. I had assumed that chemotherapy was the only treatment that resulted in hair loss, but that wasn’t true.

Not only would I lose my hair, but because my brain was exposed to radiation, I would struggle with short term memory loss and dyslexia, and as a result, there was a strong possibility I would lose my creativity as a writer. I had planned to study creative writing in college, so this news was devastating.

Over the next few weeks of treatment, I was in denial about what my doctors had told me. I just didn’t understand how I could lose my creativity. After three weeks of radiation, my hair started to fall out. I also noticed that although I wasn’t inspired to write poetry anymore, I was still writing constantly. I think I basically refused to lose my creativity, so I wrote anything that came to mind, hoping it would lead to inspiration.

At the end of June, I received my last radiation treatment and went back home to Boone. I had an MRI scan on July 21st, 2005, which confirmed the brain tumor was gone.

Throughout my treatment, I worked hard to maintain a positive attitude. I saw how many other cancer patients seemed depressed, so I made a point to smile and greet almost everyone I came into contact with. That was all very easy until my treatment ended.

In the months that followed, I grappled with a sense of loss.

I felt grateful to be in remission, but I didn’t have the energy to go to college, my headaches persisted, I had lost most of my hair, and I hadn’t written poetry in months.

Those were the days that tried my faith the most. During my treatment I was so busy staying optimistic that I hadn’t considered the next phase of life and what it would mean: living with daily headaches, taking multiple medications for the rest of my life, and figuring out just what was going on with my creativity.

Eventually, I recognized the unexpected blessings that resulted from my illness. My nurses became my friends, I drew closer to my friends and family, and most of all I was given a second chance at life.

Eight years later, I’m one of the best germinoma cases my doctors have seen. My hair grew back, and I honestly haven’t had a bad hair day since! I still have frequent headaches, difficulties with my medications, and energy issues, but those are small prices to pay to get to live my life. I never wrote another poem, but I now have a communication degree from Appalachian State University, and I’m excited to see where my love of writing will take me next.

Four years ago, I got the word “blessed” tattooed on my right arm as a reminder of how much God has given me. On days when I’m frustrated with my health, I close my eyes and take a moment to thank Him for the gift of a second chance.

~

Written by Laine Isaacs

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Merry

Christmas

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Finding Hope and Rest in Jesus Adam Younce Adam Younce has worked at Grandfather Home for Children since 2007. He began his employment as a Child Youth Care Worker, moved into administrative roles, and is now currently the Trainer and Online Developer for staff, volunteers, and foster families. Adam also serves as the worship leader at Cornerstone Fellowship in West Jefferson. He and his wife Meredith live in Elk Park with their four children, Gracie, Gibson, Liam, and Aiden.

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remember waking up early before school so that I could be alone. At nine years old, I would sit there and cut up my arms with the razor blades I had. From an early age, I learned to internalize the pain I felt.

My childhood was filled with suffering and affliction. In addition to my parents getting divorced when I was 11, I grew up around domestic violence.

There were so many things going on that I couldn’t control as a kid. Cutting seemed to be the only pain I could control, so I continued to indulge in self harm.

My mother remarried nearly two years after the divorce. Her new husband didn’t like the idea of having me around, so I was left with one option: to move in with my dad. I lived with my dad for the next four years, and continued to cut myself and use drugs.

I worked at hiding my cuts because I didn’t want anyone to see my pain.

During this stage in my life, I really wrestled with Christianity. Although I was attending a local church, I also began practicing Wicca. I wanted very little to do with Christianity because I was so hurt by the choices my parents made.

They both proclaimed to be Christians, and I didn’t want to be what they were.

It was apparent through my outward appearance that I was beginning to battle with faith and religion. I wore a lot of black clothing to express this dark path

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In the middle of our conversation, I heard the words come from this boy’s mouth, “You’re going to hell.”

Although my friend told me he didn’t say those words, I knew it was God speaking to me. I knew I really needed to change.

I was on. Even more disheartening, I was told by people at the church that I had to leave because of it. Being cast out from church only drove me deeper into Wicca.

While I was grappling with those feelings of rejection, I discovered my mother had an illness called Acute Respiratory Distress Syndrome (ARDS). She was near death, and on life-support for months. So at 17, I moved out of my dad’s house and moved in with my mother.

Our relationship was never great, but God used her illness as an almost perfect opportunity for us to grow close. I took care of her and spent quality time with her. In those moments together, I began to recall some of the things she told me about Jesus. I started going back to church and getting involved with a local youth group. I even began labeling myself as a Christian.

One day, my mom and I received a flyer in the mail, about a Bible Camp. It was the weirdest thing, because we had never received anything like it. We weren’t affiliated with the church or the people involved with the camp, but I remember thinking, “I have to go to this camp.” So I raised enough financial support and attended the Bible camp for three months. I often look back over that camp as God’s interven-

tion for my life.

During my time at camp, I developed a love for reading the Bible and spending time in prayer. It was the exact thing I needed to help me see that God was doing something bigger inside of me. I received Jesus as my Lord and Savior at camp, but when that summer camp ended, I went right back to hanging out with the same friends I had before.

They noticed a big change in me, but acted like things wouldn’t change between us. Eventually all of those relationships disappeared, and I was alone. I didn’t have any friends for a while, but I was learning how to give my pain to Jesus.

I was trying to be this different person, to be a Christian, and to do good, but I didn’t know where to start. I was still resorting to old habits and thinking. Then there was a loud wake up call. One night while sitting and talking to a friend about some plans we had devised to hurt ourselves and to cast demon spells, I heard God speak to me. In the middle of our conversation, I heard the words come from this boy’s mouth, “You’re going to hell.” Although my friend told me he didn’t say those words, I knew it was God speaking to me. I knew I really needed to change.

When I got alone with God, I

remember repenting and praying, “God, I’ve done this and this… I hold all this sadness to myself and feel so unworthy of Your love.” That prayer broke me. God broke me, and it was the first time I really felt love.

It wasn’t too long after that I really started to get plugged into a church community and grow in my faith by leaps and bounds. The pastor of my church took me under his wing and really encouraged me to lead worship at my church. I started to lead worship, and it was something very new and different for me.

I always loved music because my dad was a musician and that’s what I grew up around. On the other hand, I was learning the true meaning of worship and discovering how to really pour my heart out to God. I was finally using my talents for Him. Being in this environment of faith was something new and necessary for me.

Soon thereafter, I met my wife, Meredith. She completely changed my world view. I came from a life filled with such a painful childhood, and she came from a faith-centered family grounded on the love of God. Through her family experiences and solid faith, it really helped me understand what a healthy and Godly family looks like.

Things were looking up, and I hadn’t thought about cutting myself

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in a long time, until my sister passed away from a drug overdose. I went through a hazy spell during that time because I didn’t know how to handle the pain. My sister and I were really close, so her death was almost intolerable. I wanted to internalize that pain again. During times like that, I really struggle with returning to my old ways. I remember hearing all of Satan’s lies. This is your past. This is who you are. You’ll never be anything better. But the voice of truth comes in and I hear Jesus say, “Come all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Mourning through that grievous season was a tough struggle, but I knew Jesus was always inviting me to come rest in Him. I am thankful for people like Meredith and my father-in-law, who showed me Christ’s love and continue to do so unconditionally. Their love gave me the courage and strength to walk in a lot of forgiveness and grace. After years of not speaking to my dad, I remember being filled with so much love and determination that I finally called him.

When he answered, I had nothing but apologies to say for the things that I did and said to hurt him.

I told him about the changes in my life and how I gave my life to Jesus. I never thought it would happen, but my dad is now saved and we continue to communicate regularly.

I went from being a completely hopeless person to someone who tries to tell everybody that there is hope.

That hope is found in Jesus. I love sharing my story.

Through the despair, I was able to experience the love and grace of God. My life was filled with so much darkness when I walked around carrying that heavy load of suffering, anger and hurt, but then God came into my life and introduced me to the reality of true freedom and of His love.

~

Written with Pangshua Riley

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TRUSTING GOD WITH THE

PROCESS Hollie Wilcox

Hollie Wilcox has a great love for Boone. She loves the way this small town mixes with the University culture and mostly, because she gets to call this place home. She and her husband Joel serve at Cornerstone Summit Church and Hollie is the Community Prevention Coordinator of the Western Youth Network. She has been a part of the WYN staff since 2008.

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t was an indescribable feeling. This is what I felt at age 14 while at a youth conference in Texas, like “every knee shall bow down and confess that Jesus is Lord.” I had heard about Jesus because both my grandmothers were devout Christians, who prayed all the time, but my first encounter was in that big stadium. I felt a draw in my spirit for something I couldn’t wrap my head around. It was a weird feeling and I sort of left it at that. It would be a matter of years before I would have another encounter with Jesus.

It took a few turns around some hard corners between adolescence and adulthood to see God’s handiwork in my life. Looking back, I feel thankful to have spent the first 17 years of my life growing up in my parents’ little red house with a barn and a pond. We lived a simple life in Sugar Grove. My mom was a teacher, and my dad, a contractor. We had everything we needed but we didn’t have anything in excess. Not that it mattered. Being able to run bare-feet through the yard, climb trees, pick blueberries, and garden with mom are some of the favorite

things I have learned to appreciate about my childhood.

I had a great childhood. My parents were always present. They were helpful when it came to homework, loving my brother and me, and providing a safe and strong structure to our home. My brother and I didn’t spend our nights watching television or playing video games. Rather, we loved the outdoors because we had the prized luxury to run on safe territory. I didn’t begin to appreciate this hallowed liberty until I grew older, realizing how many children live around crime and unsafe neighborhoods. I am fortunate to have tasted and experience such a jovial freedom as a kid.

Although I experienced such joy as a child, I was taking one of the worst turns when I started the sixth grade. I entered middle school at 5”7 and weighed 140 pounds. I had an unusual stature for a 12-year-old. I became the laughing stock and often got picked on by the other students. Bullying wasn’t a term yet developed in schools. Then, it was an unspoken uni-

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versal law that kids who got picked on, just got picked on. Like most middle schoolers, at that age, I was figuring out who I was and learning which things were important to me. Getting made fun of was an added element to that hard-enough process of discovering who I was. In result, I had a lot of aggression and anger toward other kids. I began to assume this identity that was created by my circumstance: the bad girl.

By the time I entered high school, I not only began to assume this identity of being the bad girl who smoked weed and drank, but I liked the idea of being bad. It was appealing and edgy. As I continued to walk in this image, I also started to notice how men valued me for my body. So, I lost my virginity at 15 because I enjoyed the validation and approval men gave me. At that age, it seemed like the acceptable thing to do.

As high school continued to pass from one year to the next, my issues continued to layer on top of each other. I struggled with my weight, appearance, popularity, and the need to feel accepted. To compensate for those issues, I started to use Adderall, which eventually led to the use of cocaine. Ultimately, it carried into my first year of college and only worsened. The summer after graduating high school, I reached one of my lowest points. By then, I was using cocaine daily.

I had lost a significant amount of weight, which people began to notice. All my friends were complimentary about my newfound body.

I had a great approval for how thin I was becoming. After spending many years being bullied for my weight, I was finally feeling pretty and skinny. Thirty pounds lighter, I was loving the attention so it made me want to keep using the cocaine.

But with that, it came with a price.

The drug abuse severely affected my first semester at Caldwell

Community College. I failed every class because cocaine was taking over my life. I could no longer sustain my good grades and eventually stopped attending class because I was going to fail the semester anyway. So one day while sitting in my apartment, my mom showed up to confront me. She told me that day, “People know you are on drugs and you need to stop.” In hysteria, I remember thinking, “I’m 18. I can do what I want.” Even while I was losing performance in school, I still felt in control over my life and my weight. And that was the one thing I wasn’t willing to give up.

It wasn’t long thereafter that I was living on a friend’s couch because I no longer had my own apartment. I remember moving from one friend’s to another and it all hit me one day. I had this realization I was addicted to cocaine and knew it wasn’t going to benefit me for the long haul. I immediately called my mom and confessed that I needed help with my addiction. She and my dad came to help me pack my things and take me home. They eventually bought a small house and let me live in it. It gave me space for independence, and it gave them the ability to check in on me (as acting landlords and parents). Gratefully, I spent the next few months going through counseling and recovering from cocaine. My parents did whatever it took to see me succeed. They are what you think parents should be, full of innumerable chances, your biggest fans, and biggest supporters.

I am thankful for my parents because while I was in my early adulthood, they gave me the tools to help me succeed. Given, this wasn’t my last time using cocaine, I was able to regain some stability in my life.

I eventually finished my Associates degree at Caldwell and transferred to Appalachian State.

It was during my time at Appalachian that I began to date a Christian guy. We occasionally went to church together, but I was too

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caught up in partying to take religion seriously. Although I imagined marrying him, he didn’t have the same desire because he wanted to marry someone who shared those same faith values as he did. Every relationship seemed to always end up this way, “Hollie, you’re great…” and then a big “but” interjection. I was deceived that I was inadequate and could never be good enough. In result, my life would turn around a horrific corner straight into the comfort of alcohol.

There was a lot of drinking. The minute I was finished with my classes, I would race to the nearest bar or go home so I could drink. It was all I wanted to do, to stay drunk. I began to get lost in the drinking like I did with the cocaine. So while I was in class one day, I was presented with the opportunity to study abroad in Costa Rica. “Yes! I am going to drink and party so much!” I really thought Costa Rica was going to be one big party because my life was exactly that, a constant party scene.

But while in Costa Rica, although I had the company of friends, I remember feeling gravely isolated and very alone. Coming off that break up, being in another country where I didn’t speak the language, I found myself reaching defeat. There was a pivotal turning moment for me while in Costa Rica. I was lying in the top bunk in our cabin, hearing the monkeys yap outside in the background, and clearly remember thinking to myself: I feel so alone.

My eyes were filled with tears and all I could do was lay there. I didn’t know God at the time but I clearly see now that this was the shifting moment. I had encountered God in Costa Rica. I was crying out for Him indirectly in that moment. Waking up the next day, I remember telling everyone I wasn’t going to drink anymore. My friends who were on the trip sort of shrugged off my declaration because they thought it was just another phase I was going through.

I returned to Boone with a very

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different outlook. I saw how joyful the people in Costa Rica were with the little they had. I envied so much of what they had that it made me really think about my life and my priorities. I was convinced that I needed to make significant changes in the way I was living my life. So I continued to choose to not consume alcohol. I was received by the same response I experienced in Costa Rica. Although some friends were supportive of my choices, everyone essentially thought I was going through another phase. But with my birthday around the corner, my friends surely thought I would be over this no-drinking-phase. It wasn’t a phase. I had lost my desire to indulge in alcohol. After my birthday, I was no longer the “party girl” and because of that, I realized people didn’t want to hang out with me anymore. People didn’t enjoy being around the sober Hollie. It was a wake-up call. The sober me wasn’t a valuable person to them.

While still figuring out how to go out with my friends and not drink, I got connected to the Dibiasi family and began working at their Italian restaurant in Valle Crucis as a waitress. I remember spending the slow times during my work shift out on their porch. Joann, the owner, would always meet me outside with her Bible and talk to me about faith and the Lord. She would read scriptures to me and invite me to church. By then, I had tried to go to church by myself. I had gone twice, which I felt good about so I was open to the idea of going to church with her. A few weeks later, I went to her church.

During my first visit, I remember thinking the totality of worship and the dynamics of church was very different, in a good way. I remembering thinking to myself, “If my personality was translated into a church, this would be it.” It was cool because I felt like I could be myself. By the end of that service, the pastor gave an altar call for those who wanted to receive Jesus as their Savior, and I felt led to go forward.

I was the only one who walked up front to give my life to the Lord that day. It was very emotional. I didn’t know anyone, yet I remember feeling so accepted. I found myself returning week after week, surrounded by people who helped me walk out of darkness.

I started to see a big change in relationships. I was surprised to see that the boys weren’t trying to chase after me and the girls weren’t as catty. It was a different and good place to be. People genuinely cared about me and didn’t judge me based on my past. I was accepted for me, Hollie, as a person. As my new life was unfolding, I was losing many of my friendships.

I had some friends who were supportive and some who believed this was going to yet again, be another phase. Even my

mom thought it would be a phase but seven years later, I am still a Christian.

Becoming a Christian is only the beginning of someone’s journey. It was the start of mine. It was a long, tough process, and can still be. Christians paint this picture that once you receive Christ, your life is perfect and you won’t have any problems. But all of those insecurities and baggage I had didn’t go away. If anything, they were magnified. I came to the Lord as a sexually active drug addict and drunk, into a place where there were so many others who grew up in the church.

Having lived so long in the world, I experienced and felt judgment for not being as holy. Sometimes that caused me to be upset and bitter at the church and it took me time to grow in humility and grace.

Yet while journeying through my faith, I met Joel, the incredible man of God who showed me the beauty of real love that can only be formed by Christ. Our dating and engagement story is an interesting one. After we dated for a couple of years, there was a great pressure for us to marry. I think culturally, it was expected that if a couple in church was thriving for a certain amount of time, this was the next thing to do. All of our friends were getting engaged and married, and being the one of the older girls in the group, I felt like we also needed to be where they were.

I remember getting engaged in the month of February and by the time June came around, I was so stressed with planning and the pressure to fit into this mold, Joel and I called off our engagement. I refused to fit into another image that other people had for me. So ending our engagement left me bitter toward other couples getting married.

I remember feeling very disconnected from my relationship with God. I wasn’t staying in the Word of God, and I didn’t have a desire to walk with God. I think it allowed for opportunities like partying and drinking to be reintroduced into my life. While I knew Joel spent a lot

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of time receiving counsel and praying through things, we had broken up and called things off altogether. I didn’t know how to properly cope with the internal and external things in my life: Joel and I called off the wedding, decided we didn’t need to date any more because it didn’t seem like we had a future together, and a family friend had just died. It was really easy for me to resort to my “old Hollie” habits, so I did. I let go.

After growing tired of these old habits one night, I drove to Joel’s house to apologize for my wild behavior of partying and flirting with other men. I thought I could easily convince him I was ready for us to be together and that these other men weren’t important. Well, Joel told me he didn’t want to be with me. It was difficult to hear him say no because Joel has a heart of gold.

He could never say no. His heart is full of second chances and countless “It’s okays.” I left his house with the worst feeling, like a painful dagger in my heart, but I realized I couldn’t do what I wanted and treat him that way.

For the next six weeks, we barely spoke a word to each other as I stayed on my face, praying to the Lord in my living room. For six weeks, I cried repeatedly. Sometimes, tears were the only prayers I had. For six weeks, my posture stayed on that one spot in my living room. I was hurting, but I was also learning to seek God in humility, and to not pray out of manipulation or ulterior motives. I remember in those six weeks, praying for Joel and myself as individuals rather than as a couple who needed to be together. My focus began to shift and I had to grow in my confidence of knowing I could really trust God with all things.

Weeks later, I approached Joel after church one Sunday and told him I had been praying for him. His only response to me was, “Thanks?” Although that response wasn’t pleasing, I knew I was taking a leap of faith. I left that day with an assurance that we would be together. Ultimately, we got engaged a second time (six months later, while on a mission trip in India). And sometimes when I share with people about our double engagement, people are confused or embarrassed for me. But I am not ashamed about the process we went through. My marriage didn’t come without hard work, forgiveness, God’s love, and lots of prayer. I hope that in my transparency, others wouldn’t feel ashamed about their stories. Joel and I had to process through healing and trusting each other again. The testimony in all this is: Can you trust God in the process? It gets tough while we’re in the process because in the moment, we want what we want. And I wanted to be with Joel but I had to trust God. Life will always be a process and I think we should be more comfortable with that. We shouldn’t strive for a perfect state because we will ultimately meet failure. Our perfection can only be made through Jesus Christ in Heaven.

I didn’t come onto the scene knowing this, but have learned, there is nothing I can do to make God love me less. There is so much freedom in knowing that, because I realize I can be me with all my little nuances. I hope on my birthday, every year, I can say I am more and more comfortable with who I am. I want it to always be that process, to be who God has designed me to be. This is one of the most beautiful things about life. And I love that I can journey through life as a member of this community, sharing with those who come here, the sacred grounds that I have seen God manifest in His own deep love for me.

One sweet reminder of how God has showed me that deep love is learning that the professor who led the Costa Rica trip I went on loves the Lord. He later told me that he could see that something was changing in me on that trip. I know God placed Him on the trip and that he was not only witnessing this spiritual transformation happening inside my heart, but he was standing in prayer for me. Years later, I still keep in touch with him. You will never know how God connects our stories to each other, but He always does. Look at the people He put in my life: my professor, my husband, and the Dibiasi family. My story will continue to be a process, but the joy in that is, I can trust God with it all.

~

Written with Pangshua Riley

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WINTER I

them from the storms? Sure I can, but it is at great expense. I could put all 50 animals in the barn together and bar the door.

This makes for poor ventilation and extremely deficient hygiene conditions. Immune systems are compromised, crowded conditions produce stress, and stress produces confrontations. My donkeys are capable of unintentionally injuring my sheep if the pecking order is challenged. Finally (and most importantly), God created these animals to thrive outdoors. My daddy always gets me with this question, “How do you think those wild donkeys out west survive?”

am blessed to live in the most beautiful area on God’s creation - Ashe County! My town is named West Jefferson, population approximately 1300 folks, and is known for its friendly people, a community that rallies together when a resident suffers hardship and suffering, loves Friday night football at the local high school, has a church on every corner, grows the most beautiful Fraser Fir Christmas trees of anywhere, and has a climate all its own. The saying goes, “If you don’t like the weather right now, give it a few hours and it will change.” I am fairly certain that quote was authored during the winter months.

So I am learning to trust that the storms will bring no harm to my animals. In fact, these storms actually keep my animals healthy and strong. So it is with God and His children. Of course, He can bring us in from the storms of life but these storms of life teach lessons that nothing else can. Storms help us realize where our true strength is derived. Storms offer us the opportunity to develop a thankful heart. We can appreciate the little blessings in a life with greater enjoyment. We grasp the indebtedness owed to our Savior. We can actually come out of a storm a different person - polished, refined, and renewed to accomplish greater things than ever before.

You see, our winters can be harsh. Winds, snow, sleet, freezing rain, frigid temps, spring-like temps, flash floods, you name it and we get it in the winter.

Now there is beauty in a quiet, serene snowfall. The kind of snowfall that produces flakes the size of silver dollars. The flakes that you can catch on your tongue with relative ease and then in the next moment roll up in a snowball to begin the art form of building a snowman. But all too often these kinds of snowfalls evolve into blizzard like conditions with high winds, bitter wind chills, and the like. The conditions that cause this donkey farmer/shepherdess concern about her livestock. (OK, I am under conviction - not concern, but more like undue stress and worry!)

By Kim Furches

I am neurotic when it comes to my animals. I want to rescue my animals, bring them in from the storms, and treat them with a little extra grain and water from the spigot, not from the creek where ice must be broken in order to alleviate thirst. I want them protected from the elements of storms. I don’t want them suffering needlessly - no ruffled feathers (hair or wool), as the saying goes. Now, can I protect

I desire to be more like Peter when he dealt with a storm (Matthew 14:22-31). I will focus on keeping my eyes on Jesus rather than on the storm before me. Then when the storm has passed I can be grateful that God was holding my hand all along, protecting me and perfecting me for His purpose.

My animals get it; they trust their Master. If only I can grow to trust my Master more.

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A VOYAGE OF HONOR Larry Ballou Larry Ballou has been on a voyage for almost 40 years. He has obediently followed God’s course. Fierce winds have threatened the ship’s voyage, and most often these winds blew in at the eleventh hour. But with God’s humble and obedient captain at the rudder, funding sources were made available, as well as job opportunities. The ADAP Program sails on. A change is coming at the beginning of 2015. This ship will be docked just long enough for Larry to hand over the rudder to a new captain who God has selected to continue the voyage.

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ucked away in the tiny town of Lansing, an agency shines with opportunity and purpose for several special folks. This group of people proudly wears attributes that we all could use more of, especially in the workplace. These include pure happiness, innocence, unconditional love, and positive regard. Their work ethic is alive in their attitudes everyday.

They feel blessed to count themselves employed, and appreciate their job opportunities. They don’t drag their feet in dread, but show up, eager and with a full on positive attitude at ADAP (Adult Developmental Activity Program). Thankfully, the director of this program has remained steadfast and shares his influences that have empowered him to share many blessings with this very special population.

Born the third of four children, it would be a number of years before I and my siblings would realize what a blessing God had gifted us in the form of parents. Our mom and dad personified the word “service,” and would pass that attribute along to each of their children. Bill and Opal Ballou had married following his term of service in the U.S. Army during World War II, which included a period of several months incarceration in a German Prisoner of War camp. That experience would have a lasting effect on my father, and motivated him throughout his adulthood to try to make life better for others.

Following their marriage, the young couple moved to Winston-Salem where they worked and began their

family, returning to Ashe County for the birth of each child. Following my first year in grade school, our family moved back to Ashe County where they established their family home. That home was no more than a quarter mile from my maternal grandparents, where I would enjoy many meals, overnight stays and lots of opportunities to work on my grandfather’s little farm. In addition to my grandparents, there was a third member of that household: my uncle Darrell. All of my other uncles had their own homes, but Darrell, a grown man, was still in the care of my grandparents - he had been born with Down’s Syndrome and an intellectual disability, as well as speech and hearing impairments which kept him from hearing and speaking. Darrell was, for the most part, a happy man content with his life and chores on the farm. He did, however, have no difficulty in communicating his displeasure when something didn’t go his way. It would not be until years later that I would come to understand just how deeply Darrell had influenced my life. I believe God was setting the stage for a job He had in mind for me and He was using Uncle Darrell to prepare me for that job.

Following high school, college and my first job, I was hired to become the Executive Director of a newly formed Ashe County non-profit organization created for the purpose of developing a day program for adults with intellectual disabilities. A $25,000 grant from a religious organization pro-

vided the seed money to secure a location for the agency and hire the initial staff. In 1975, we opened the doors of Ashe County ADAP(Adult Developmental Activity Program).

As the grant funds dwindled, we learned that a moratorium had been placed on state funding for any new ADAP services. That would be our first of many eleventh hour crisis situations, and just when we feared our service to the people we served would have to close its doors, a new avenue of funding came on the scene. That funding source lasted long enough for the state to lift the moratorium on ADAP services and our agency was included in the state funding plan. During that early period when funding was uncertain, we continued to receive referrals from local agencies. By our third year we realized that the service we needed most to provide our participants was the opportunity to perform real work. We reasoned that the most normal thing for an adult (with or without a disability) to be doing on a daily basis was work. Sprague Electric (now United Chemi-Con) gave us that first opportunity and through the ensuing years we saw work opportunities come to us from Thomasville Chair plant, Gates Rubber Company, Oldham, Leviton, and other smaller companies, many of which are no longer located or operating in Ashe. AEV is the most recent manufacturer to join the ranks of local companies providing work to ADAP. Each of those companies found the workers employed by ADAP to be productive and quality conscious individuals who demon-

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strated a strong work ethic, and a desire to do even the most rudimentary of jobs. Our workers grew to believe in themselves as capable, worthy individuals who could work and earn an income which they could then spend in the local marketplace as they chose.

As the agency grew in number of participants and work opportunities, its original location within the old hospital building in Jefferson became unsuitable. Once again a need was met when a Small Business Administration loan was approved for ADAP to purchase its present location in Lansing. The agency purchased the building and paid the loan from the net income it derived from its work contracts with local industry. A contract to launder towels for Gates Rubber Company allowed the agency to purchase the Lansing Laundromat, and there we laundered as many as 1000 towels per work day at a time when Gates was producing curved radiator hose.

As our workers became more accustomed to work being a part of their daily lives, we began to think about taking our service to the next level and placing individuals in jobs within the community. About that time funding became available for a service called Supported Employment, and ADAP received one of the early grants to develop community based work opportunities for the people we served. While we knew not everyone we served wanted to work in the community, we also recognized that some of our workers had the capabilities to learn and perform quality work for employers throughout the county. As we talked with employers, opportunities became available and we were able to place and support many of our participants at community work sites.

One of our most recent integrated worksites is the kitchen at our new Law Enforcement Center. The integration of our workers into the general workforce has been rewarding for both non-disabled employees, as well as the workers we support who have some disability. It has been very fulfilling to see the perceived differences between disabled and non-disabled workers fade in importance

when people work alongside each other.

To be sure, Ashe County ADAP has struggled to survive in a county where jobs are not plentiful, but yet where employers are willing to take a chance and employ persons with disabilities. As I prepare to retire and look back over my career, I am amazed at how blessed this little agency has been. We have endured when times were bleak, and I am convinced that our survival has been sustained by a God who loves all people, and “all” includes people with intellectual and other developmental disabilities. My uncle Darrell taught me that he was worthy of respect and capable of accomplishing things I would have assumed he could not do. My parents taught me to put the needs of others ahead of my own and to do whatever I could to make life better for someone else. I hope I have done that in some small way for the people served

by ADAP during my tenure as its Director. In hindsight I see our success being credited to a Board of Directors who had a vision and a desire to see our participants be fully accepted in our community. I see a wife who supported me through years of long work hours and needless worry. I see a staff of dedicated, caring men and women who settled for little pay but big rewards in the accomplishments of the people we served. I am humbled to have served with them and awed by their absolute dedication to the individuals who have honored us with their loyalty and appreciation. I see a host of men and women who served as county commissioners who recognized the value of having a vocational service for adults with disabilities, providing them an opportunity to work. My leaving is a most insignificant event when one looks to the future and the challenges that lie ahead.

Challenges equal opportunities, and my sincere hope is that employers, factories and businesses will see the potential that workers with disabilities bring to the workplace. I am excited to see what God will accomplish in the next 40 years with a homegrown agency called Ashe County ADAP. God is not yet finished with the Ballou family either. My daughter Bevin continues her grandfather’s legacy of service as the director of Ashe As-

sisted Living and Memory Care. …And my grandson Braeden, just 3 years old now; I wonder what God has in mind for him. I close with a line borrowed from the movie God’s NOT Dead: “God is good all the time, and all the time? God is good”.

I had three goals in compiling this information and they were: 1. To honor God who made and continues to make everything possible for ADAP to exist, 2. To honor my parents who taught me

how to serve, and 3. To portray the individuals served by ADAP as people worthy of the same dignity and respect that is afforded everyone else. I probably missed the mark, but that is what I wanted to do.

I consider my retirement to be completely un-noteworthy, and only the launching pad for greater things to come from new leadership in a new era. Basically, it’s not what I have done for them, but what they have done for me.

There remains a group of special needs adults who benefit daily on this voyage - their journey is not quite finished. Godspeed to Larry Ballou and the legacy he leaves behind.

~

Written with Kim Furches

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PREPARED TO SERVE

GOD’S CHILDREN David McGrady Born and raised in Wilkes County, David McGrady graduated from Appalachian State University in 1987. After working for 17 years in the Information Technologies departments of two different companies, David became the Executive Director of Wilkes Vocational Services in January of 2004. Married to his wife, April, since 1992, they are the proud parents of Joseph Daniel and Emily Brooke McGrady.

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n 2002, I was at a low point in my life. After building a career with a stable company that may have caused me to seem successful to the casual observer, I was actually miserable. Circumstances in my life had conspired to bring on a severe depression like I had never experienced. Because of this, I contemplated all kinds of my own plans to alleviate my pain. I realize now that this hard time in my life was really one of the best things that could have happened to me, because it brought me to a place of surrender to God’s will, which opened up an opportunity to serve Him in a

way that I would never have anticipated on my own.

It was in this time frame that a man who was like a spiritual mentor to me said, “I don’t know what it is, but God is preparing you for something.” After this, I remember very vividly going to the altar at church and saying something like this: “Okay God, I’ll give up my job if you want me to. Whatever you want me to do, I will do.”

After that happened, I don’t remember exactly how long it was, but probably about a year later, I

THE JOURNEY / 2014 WINTER

saw an ad in the local newspaper, and it jumped out at me like a firecracker going off. “Wanted: Executive Director for Wilkes County Vocational Workshop.” Almost at the same time, my sister called me, and she had seen the ad, and she said something like this: “I know what you need to be doing.” When all this happened, I thought to myself, “God, you have got to be kidding,” but He obviously wasn’t. I applied for the job, and was called in for an interview. Although I didn’t think that the interview went well, I was hired for the job that same day!

When I took the job, I knew there were some minor financial needs in the company, but I thought to myself, “Okay, I think I can do this.” I continued running things the way they had been for years, and realized after a month there that we had only three months’ worth of cash on hand left. If we didn’t make dramatic changes, we would have to shut our doors. I completely shut down all spending, and even had to take away all employee benefits. That was a very low time, and a very sad time for me. That was in no way fun, it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

As all this was happening, I started to question myself. I was an IT professional. What was I doing in a job like this? “I don’t have the skill-set to turn this thing around,” is what I was thinking. Had I made the wrong decision? Had I stepped out ahead of God and tried to do something on my own?

This was the time that I realized that I was into something that was so much bigger than me. It was literally overwhelming. A feeling of total helplessness came over me. So, I went to my desk, sat down, and said to God, “I can’t do this. I have no idea what to do to fix this.” Now that may not be word for word, but it is pretty close. I sat there for a period of time, I guess waiting for God. There was no great revelation; lightning didn’t strike; thunder didn’t rumble. At this point, I really wanted to see some lightning and hear some thunder, and it didn’t happen. But I got a feeling, and I don’t know that I would call it a peaceful feeling, but it was a feeling, or an urging. I have no idea how to describe it, but in that feeling, God gave me a message and that message was “I did not bring you here to shut the doors.” That message was loud and clear, and I cannot explain that either, it just was.

I can’t say that I fully understood the impact of the message at the time, but I did understand enough that I realized that I was here for a purpose, and that purpose was way bigger than me. So at that point, I looked up to God and said something along the lines of, “Okay, I’m here to do the task you have given me, I don’t know what to do. You will have to do it through me.”

This was a defining moment for which I’m very grateful. It led us to the kind of breakthroughs that have made this 11 year journey of my time here the adventure and the joy that it is to me now.

Let me tell a little about how God has brought us to our current state. Because the finances were going down the tubes and everything was just crumbling around us, both operationally and financially, I discussed with the board allowing a much larger company to come in and take over all of our services. At that time, it was the only option that I saw that would keep us running. But, this was one of the things that God used to teach me. Through this company, God showed me (and my board chair) what the other company was doing to be financially suc-

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cessful. We used this information to create our strategic plan. Of course, at the time, we didn’t call it a strategic plan, we called our survival plan. Using the information that was revealed to us, as well as other things that we learned in the process, we were able to turn it around financially.

Once we were able to say that we were surviving financially, we started to change our focus. When I came, we were focused on and our priority was production, making stuff. We still do production, and it is a key part of our business, but it is not the focus. Our focus is on the individuals that we provide services for. However, that was not just a switch that we flipped once we were financially stable. We started changing our focus, and the finances started to improve. I fully believe that was God’s purpose for bringing me here, to change the focus from production to providing services.

We are now providing services for approximately double the number of individuals we were providing services for when I came. It might be more accurate to say that when we changed our focus to taking care of the individuals that we were here to provide services for, God started turning around the finances. I would love to be able to take credit, but all the credit is God’s.

When I think back to that very low point in my life twelve years ago, I realize how right my spiritual mentor had been when he told me that God was preparing me for something. He was preparing me for this job, for this opportunity to love and serve His children.

~

Written with Laine Isaacs & Ben Cox

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THE JOURNEY / 2014 WINTER

THE FAITHFULNESS

OF GOD Pangshua Riley

I

should be dead, but by the love of God, I have been made fully alive.

Thankfully, I can reflect over my life and see the presence of God. I see how alive He was in the dark places of my past, where I never saw Him before: in my depression, promiscuity, and self-destruction. I wrestled for many years believing that God could really love me and that He had good plans for my life. After all, my life didn’t seem to look anything like any Christians I knew.

I felt alone in my battles, which influenced my belief that God was fully good and that He was, what I heard many Christians call, Faithful. But through years of walking with God, I have experienced the opposite of that. I am not alone. God is faithful, and you are not alone. We are here in this life to walk together.

This, here, is the story of my journey in finding God and His uncompromising faithfulness.

I moved to Boone, NC as an 18-yearold, full of ambition and much eagerness to discover this newfound freedom. Beginning my first year at Appalachian State, I knew it was important to find a church but I was overwhelmed by all the different churches. I visited a few, in which felt nothing like home, so I gave up and started a prayer circle in my dorm that semester (which lasted for a few weeks). Little did I know, a girl I met through this prayer circle would come to help pull me out of my desolation.

Three months into my new life at App, I found myself in an unusual situation.

What was intended to be a date with a friend actually turned out to be one of the

worst nights of my life. Caught in a web, I was being held captive in this man’s bedroom. That evening, he raped me and threw me into the streets, forcing me to walk home by myself. God, where are you? How did this happen? What did I do to deserve this?

Those were my initial thoughts. As the week went on, I began to take responsibility for this event that occurred. It was my fault. I did this to myself. I am worthless. I deserve this.

For the following two years, I spent my life in a burning pit.

Many nights were spent intoxicated and chasing after anything that could bring me fulfillment. In reality, hopelessness is all I felt.

The more I felt hopelessness and pain, the more I tried to drown myself with alcohol, sex and getting high. In those difficult years, I made my first attempt to commit suicide, but by God’s grace, my friend who I met during that prayer circle came rushing into my room at the right moment to stop me. Fighting through the confusion of my life’s purpose, I fell in love with a guy who I began to build my world around. After breaking up with me one night, I locked myself inside his bathroom, embarrassed, rejected and broken. My heart began to shatter into a million particles but for the first time in a long time, I began crying out to God. This was my rock bottom.

The next morning, I got in my car and began cruising through the streets of Boone in search of God. I knew He could be found in a church, so my mission was to get to the first one I could find.

I remember it being such a long drive. I debated with myself and tried to convince myself that I could wait until the following week. But I found myself pulling into a parking spot, following the small crowd walking toward the church doors. To much relief from my fears, I left church that Sunday feeling hopeful again.

My life was going to get better. Hope was growing in my heart again.

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A few short months after, I wrestled with depression again.

Like always, God was present in the midst of my pain, even if I didn’t see it then, I see it now. But what I remember through this specific season was sneaking in and out of services because I didn’t want anyone to see me. Then one summer night, my church was having service on the University’s campus at IG Greer. I always snuck in after the first song so that I could seat myself in the last row. Once again, I would pretend to be invisible and sneak into the last row. Reflecting back, I see that I was never invisible before my loving God. He saw me as much as I tried to stay hidden.

As my pastor began to tell the story of Hosea that evening, my heart began to release its hold of the pain and frustrations of life. I heard of the unceasing love Hosea had for Gomer. It was the perfect illustration of my own life. I was on a constant run from the One who paid the price for me. I was Gomer. I was the harlot. I was in captivity to my sins, enslaved to the demons of my past, and convinced of the enemy’s lies. I look back and see the numerable times I should have died: from a car accident, an abusive relationship, sexual abuse, and a suicide attempt.

Like Gomer, my penalty should have been to be stoned to death or to be auctioned off. However, a man by the name of Jesus found me. He lovingly took off the dressing of his own body to clothe my nakedness.

He paid the price for my freedom and snatched me out of my death sentence. In a moment, the truth of the Gospel began to become truth in my heart. John 3:16 speaks volumes to me (For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son, that whosoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life). He loves me. I am worthy.

This truth finally made sense to me.

I was now beginning to claim God’s truth for my life, as a daughter of God Almighty.

My life began to take a dramatic shift my senior year in college. It seemed like I was finally beginning to get on track. I had encouraging and Godly relationships to help me see my true identity in Christ. I was joyful again. All the pieces were fall-

ing into their rightful places. With graduation around the corner, I was almost certain I would be moving back to the New England area to be closer to my family. After some praying and heavy decision making, I decided to stay in Boone after graduating, which came with a hard sacrifice.

Graduation day was finally here and my family had come into town. We did all the normal festivities: attended the ceremony, took pictures, ate dinner and laughed with good company. But the night was bound to come to a close, and I would have one of the hardest conversations with my parents: am I staying or going back with them.

In my culture, it is near disrespectful and rebellious for an unmarried woman (regardless of her age) to live anywhere other than with her parents. In choosing to stay, my parents were confused and upset. In their hurt, they gave me an ultimatum to choose God or my family. I chose God and for months, my relationship with my family ceased. I didn’t talk to my parents for a long time.

I was no longer called a daughter.

Rejected. Disowned. Despite travailing through this season, the Lord began to show me His faithfulness.

I would discover God as my safe refuge, my Father, and my rock. That same year, after being renounced as a daughter, my grandmother passed away and became a bridge between me and my family. Though our relationships didn’t quite return to its previous state, it was better than not communicating with them at all. It wouldn’t be until my 27-year-old brother unexpectedly passed away two years ago that God would mend and restore my relationship with my parents. Yet again, God proved Himself faithful.

When I look at the way God restores and heals our hearts, He doesn’t do it halfway. He desires to see us walk in wholeness. This is exactly what God was taking me through. He was removing all the bandages and masks I had placed over the most painful areas in my life. I was surrendering myself to be exposed before such a Holy God and relying on Him to help me cleanse the wounds I pretended weren’t there.

During all of this, my rapist re-

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turned into my life. After not seeing him in Boone for more than two years, we would be 100 feet from each other. One Sunday afternoon, I was on a lunch date with some girlfriends at Applebee’s, and while in mid-sentence sharing some story, I glanced over at the hostess station and see my rapist standing there. It couldn’t be! I lost all my thoughts in that moment and tears began to roll down my face. The girls at the table were confused and didn’t know what was happening. They kept asking me if I was okay but I couldn’t form any words. He was standing at the front of the restaurant, staring at me. We made eye contact for a few seconds which seemed like an eternity. The only thing I managed to mutter in tears was, “It’s him. He’s the one that raped me (four years ago).” Gasps of shock and alarm were shared and really, that’s all I can remember. I honestly still can’t recall how I managed to leave Applebee’s that day and get home.

I was also in the midst of my first professional career at Grandfather Home for Children, an agency that serves children and youth who have experienced indescribable sexual/ physical/mental abuse and neglect.

It was the perfect setup. The Lord used the children’s experiences to

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THE JOURNEY / 2014 WINTER

speak to me about my own need for healing with sexual assault. I knew encountering my rapist again was purposeful. I told my boss about this small encounter with my rapist and feeling fearful. He and everyone I worked with that I shared this with were supportive and prayerful. Talk about a community! But while the support seemed astounding, I was wrestling at home with one nightmare after another.

I often woke up in the middle of the night thinking I was raped again or that my rapist was standing outside, waiting for me.

I eventually despised going out to public places because I didn’t know what or who to expect. Was my rapist still in town?

Would he try to hurt me again? Would I see him again? Would he find me?

And what seemed like couldn’t happen, happened. He spotted me.

I was at the local Harris Teeter for a quick trip to pick up some flowers for a friend’s engagement party. My mind was preoccupied with planning the night’s event so I was feeling okay to run around town by myself. Standing in front of the floral counter, I sensed someone was standing directly behind me. Then I heard a male voice, “Hey, what’s up girl?”

If I had superhuman powers, I would have frozen the scene and ran away. But I don’t have superhuman powers, and had to face the moment. After rehearsing a million responses in my head, with power of the Holy Spirit, I calmly said, “How dare you talk to me?” I paused and continued to tell him, “I forgive you.” He looked at me almost in dumbfoundedness, as if he didn’t know what happened. I walked away, purchased my flowers and left the store. That was the last time I saw him.

In the days that followed, a lady at my church felt the need to share with me, John 16:33, “In Me you have perfect peace.

In the world you have tribulation, trials, distress and frustration, but take courage for I have overcome the world. I have de-

prived it of power to harm you and have conquered it for you.” And she wasn’t the last person to share a scripture, prayer or encouraging word. God used the aide and prayers of such friends, mentors, and strangers to remind me, I wasn’t alone.

A few months passed and I felt like I was gaining victory in overcoming the trembling fear I had of going out in public or being attacked again. I continued to focus on going to church, reading the Bible, staying in worship, talking to trusted friends, and journaling. I was feeling good and hopeful to move on. But a big turning point in all this was when I was taken back to the night of that rape in my dream. In an out-of-body-like-experience dream, I returned to a replay of this event. I remember crying over myself in my dream and thinking: You don’t deserve this, Pangshua. You’re going to be okay. It’s going to be over soon... Then the unimaginable happened.

Jesus was there. He was there.

Although I couldn’t see His face, I saw a man wearing a white robe, holding my right hand by that bedside. Weeping.

This man was weeping. I love you, my child, and I am writing a story of redemption for you. God brought me back to this traumatic place to reveal His sovereignty, His faithfulness, and His boundless love. He stood with me in my pain. I still don’t have the answers to the whys, but I do know this truth, God is matchless in every way. He is matchless in the way He loves us. He is matchless in the way He stands in our pain. Matchless in the way He holds our suffering. Matchless in being the giver of hope.

Depression is no longer a part of my struggle. Coping through sex, drunkenness, people-pleasing, and getting high are no longer a part of my struggle. I have felt the hand of God, tasted of His saving grace, and because of it, I could never deny the reality of His love.

There is a song by Bethel Music called “Everything to You” that I love so much because it reminds me of John 3:16. The lyrics from this song, “You wrap yourself around every detail of my life. You place everything into motion and all I have to do is stand in the palm of your hand because I mean everything to You. You mean everything to me.”

My past would say I deserve death and suffering, but God says I deserve goodness, love and an abundant life. I had a hard time believing I was ever going to find a Godly husband, but because of God’s grace and deep love, He has brought the most loving, patient, and caring man to pursue me. The pursuit was unlike any other relationship I had ever had. It was pure, rich, and glorious. During our first Valentine’s together, he wrote me a letter that convinced me he’s a keeper.

“I could write many reasons why I love you but what’s important is that you are reminded by how much God loves you.”

He proceeded to list an entire page filled with scriptures showing God’s love and shared about God being the Source of love and how we can love because He first loved us. For the next couple of years we dated, God used Josh as an instrumental part to healing my trust issue with men and the deep-seated wounds I was carrying. Through our challenges and battles, I would find myself marrying the greatest friend I could ever have, for all my life.

God’s love is faithful because He is the source of love. I have seen it through my husband, pastor, church, friends, coworkers and even strangers. “He makes the path of life known to me, and in His presence I find fullness of joy.” I know I have found that fullness of joy in His presence and all the days of my life, He will not abandon me. And He will not abandon you.

~

Written by Pangshua Riley

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