God never left me—and He never will.

Since childhood, I found myself in and out of hospitals, battling frequent urinary tract infections (UTIs). I endured excruciating back pain and even passed blood when I urinated. My mother searched tirelessly for answers, but no doctor could give us clarity. As I stepped into adulthood, the questions remained: Why was I always sick? Determined to find answers, in 2016, I asked my primary doctor to run some tests.

In January 2017, I underwent a CT scan of my abdomen without contrast. The results were devastating: cortical scarring on my left kidney due to recurrent UTIs, leading to kidney failure. Fear gripped me. I remember calling my grandma that day, my voice trembling as I told her the technician said things didn’t look good. Her response was simple but powerful: “Just trust that God is in control.”

At a prayer service at Centro, I fell to my knees, broken and afraid. I prayed, “God, if it is Your will that I am sick, be with me. I’m scared. I can’t do this without You.” I surrendered my disease, my will, and my life. In February 2017, during another prayer service, the pastor announced, “There is someone here with a kidney disease. Come to the front.” My heart raced. I stood up, unsure of what would happen next. The pastor prayed over me, placing his hands on my belly and back. Suddenly, I felt a rush of heat through my body—the fire of the Holy Spirit. I fell to the ground, overwhelmed, and received my healing.

Though grateful, questions lingered. Why did God choose to heal me? Am I even worthy? Seeking answers, I joined a small group at Centro, where we read The Purpose Driven Life. One lesson resonated deeply: blessings come through surrender. One day, I approached Bishop Robert after service. “Do you remember praying for my healing?” I asked. He nodded. “Thank you for your faith and obedience,” I said. His response was simple: “Keep coming to Centro.”

But confusion persisted. Why did he urge me to stay? In 2018, my family moved to our first home, and we began visiting other churches sporadically. My soul remained restless. Anxiety attacks plagued me, and I struggled with heart palpitations. Desperate for renewal, I registered for baptism and was baptized in September 2018 at C3 Church in Orlando. Yet, shortly after, I drifted from church, convinced I no longer needed it.

In 2020, we moved back near Centro and attended on and off. By March 2021, I decided to grow my faith, enrolling in Clase de Crecimiento. Despite seeking God, I searched for peace in nature, art, and worldly pursuits, only to find emptiness. One night, in utter desperation, I cried out to God, “What am I supposed to do?” His answer was clear: “Go back to all your notebooks. Restudy your notes from every church you’ve attended. Write down what stands out and find your conclusion.”

Then, a divine encounter at a food truck changed everything. An evangelist approached, sharing his testimony. When I shared mine, he looked at me with conviction and said, “God healed you so you could receive the gift of healing.” His words pierced my heart. Later, a woman I met during a walk echoed the same sentiment: “Maybe that happened to you so you would have that gift.” I realized this was my second confirmation.

Still uncertain, I kept studying Scripture, sharing my testimony whenever possible. Another encounter with two evangelists outside a grocery store brought clarity. After hearing my story, they said, “Don’t seek your purpose. Seek the One who gives you purpose. Seek Jesus, and you will find clarity.” They prayed with me, and I reconciled with the Lord.

Could this mean going back to Centro? My grandma always said, “You need to return to the place where God healed you.” Battling vertigo and unable to drive, I depended on my spouse and grew more reliant on God. My hunger for His Word deepened.

In September 2023, I finally returned to Centro. At a women’s service, I felt out of place until Lourdes approached me, inviting me to hear her testimony. That day, she courageously shared her story of abuse. Afterward, I confided in her, “I know why I needed to be here. I’ve been abused too.” Our connection rekindled my faith, and my family began attending regularly.

One Sunday, an usher told me, “God sometimes separates and isolates us so we will seek Him in spirit and truth.” His words illuminated my journey—the anxiety, the wandering, the confusion. It all made sense.

Since March 2021, Centro has been my home. No longer do I seek salvation; I seek God because it’s His purpose, not mine. In March 2024, I retook Clase de Crecimiento, joining another small group. On graduation day, Lourdes told me she felt called to pay for me to attend a retreat with Mending the Scarred. All I had to do was obey and make arrangements for my kids.

Overwhelmed with feelings of unworthiness, I almost didn’t go. But I obeyed. After the retreat, Maribet from Centro approached me. “We want to recruit you to join Mending the Scarred,” she said. Her words lingered in my heart. During worship that day, the pastor declared, “Someone is receiving confirmation.”

Could it be? Yes. My third and final confirmation.

No longer lost, confused, blind, or feeling unworthy, I now stand firm in my calling. I was truly chosen for such a time as this.

Surviving the Unthinkable: A Journey From Darkness to Healing

August 24, 1979
I was just 18 years old, a teenager navigating the unimaginable: two kids, a crumbling marriage, and a pending divorce. That day, he showed up at my door, tears streaming down his face, pleading for a chance to talk. I believed him.

He asked me to take a car ride with him. We drove in silence, his tears convincing me that there was hope for us. But when he pulled into an empty field beneath a lonely highway bridge, the truth hit me harder than I could imagine.

He opened the trunk, pulled out a bat, and fixed his eyes on mine. His voice, steady and chilling, said: “I brought you here to kill you. If I can’t have you, no one will.”

August 25, 1979
"One... two... three", they counted as medical professionals lifted me. I heard the police officer say: “We need to talk to her”, and the doctor said: “we need to save her”. The police officer asked my name.
“Ivette”, I managed to whisper.
“Who did this to you?”
“My husband”, I answered, before passing out again.
The next words I heard were: “Stop... stop... she’s gone.”

At that moment, I prayed. “Lord, don’t let me go without saving my soul. Forgive me.”
When I regained consciousness, a doctor’s voice broke through the haze. “You are at the Columbian Presbyterian Hospital. “You lost over seven pints of blood. Surgery was long and intense, but we believe you can recover.”

September 2, 1979, was my 19th year old birthday.
I was still in the hospital when my parents arrived with a birthday cake. The warmth of their presence reminded me I was alive—against all odds.

Today
Recovery has been long and grueling. PTSD is real, and the scars, both seen and unseen, run deep. But God kept me alive for a reason. I’ve found healing, strength, and a community of women who understand my pain.

If you’re in a situation like mine, don’t wait. Don’t hope for things to get better. Seek help, reach out, and fight for your freedom.

God has mended my scars, and every day, I’m grateful to be here to share this message. Life is beyond the darkness, and healing is waiting for you.

A Journey of Healing: Overcoming Abuse with Faith

For years, my life behind closed doors was nothing like the one my husband presented to the world. To others, he was charming, kind, and admired as a "good" guy. But at home, I faced a different reality—a reality marked by emotional and verbal abuse. The cycle of mistreatment was relentless: he would lash out in anger, blaming me for everything that went wrong. I would try my best to avoid triggering his temper, but nothing seemed to be enough. Once the storm passed, he would act as though nothing had happened, sometimes apologizing if he realized he had gone too far, promising change—but the cycle would always repeat.

I lived in constant fear, walking on eggshells, never knowing what would set him off next. There were many nights when I cried myself to sleep, praying earnestly for him to change. I submitted countless prayer requests, asking for his salvation and for his heart to be softened. I tried everything I could think of to stop the cycle—working harder to be the "good wife," thinking if I could just get it right, maybe his anger would subside. But nothing worked. His mistreatment of me continued, and it was as if I was the one at fault.

His cruelty often disguised itself as humor, belittling me with words masked as jokes. When my asthma was triggered by the smoke he would intentionally blow around me, causing me serious health issues, he would dismiss my pain, telling me I was overreacting. To him, my suffering was just an inconvenience, and I was blamed for causing him guilt or discomfort.

Through it all, my faith in God was my anchor. I clung to His promises, drawing strength from the Scriptures. Psalm 16:8 became my lifeline: “I have set the Lord always before me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.” I prayed for endurance, for courage, and for the wisdom to know how to move forward.

But as time went on, his behavior only worsened. The angry outbursts became more frequent, the criticism more cutting, and the threats more menacing. He began keeping a firearm nearby, "for protection," but to me, it felt like an ever-present reminder of his control and intimidation.

One day, my heart broke in a way that I could no longer ignore. I knew I had to make a change. I sought counsel from godly women who prayed with me, encouraged me, and helped me see that I was not meant to live this way. The decision to leave was not easy, but it was the only way to break free from the abuse.

With God's protection, I escaped on several occasions, and eventually made my way to Florida, bringing only what I could carry in my car. I prayed for guidance as I sought a new church and a supportive community. God answered my prayers in an incredible way. I was led to a church where I found a safe space—a place of healing, love, and support. It was here that I found Mending the Scarred, a ministry that became my sanctuary. The women there embraced me with prayer, compassion, and understanding when I was at my lowest.

Thanks to their care and the power of prayer, I began to heal. I cannot express how grateful I am to the Holy Spirit for leading me to this ministry. The love and support I received at Mending the Scarred helped me rebuild my life and my faith. I am no longer broken, but whole, because of the grace and healing I received there.

I want to encourage any woman who may be reading this and finds herself in a similar situation—please, know that you are deeply loved by Father God. You are precious to Him, and He does not want you to suffer in silence. If you are in an abusive relationship, there is help available. You do not have to walk this journey alone.

Take the first step toward healing. Trust that God will guide you, protect you, and lead you to the support you need. You are not defined by the abuse you’ve endured, but by the love and strength God has placed inside you.

With blessings and hope,
Lisette

Mi nombre es Mildred. A la edad de 16 años me mudé a Nueva York. Me casé muy joven; a los 17 ya tenía un niño y, a los 20 años, era viuda. No fue fácil, pero logré estudiar y criar a mi hijo. Cuando mi hijo tenía 21 años, yo contraje matrimonio, y pocos meses después de casarme, empezó el abuso verbal, seguido por el abuso doméstico.

Yo ya había conocido el Camino del Señor, pero no tenía una relación con Dios. Durante los siguientes años de casada, mi vida fue terrible: insultos, golpes y mucho maltrato emocional. Yo pensaba que todo era mi culpa, porque así el abusador quiere que tú pienses; es una manera de manipularte y controlarte.

En una ocasión, lleno de coraje, mi esposo, el hombre que decía que me amaba, me golpeó. Después me agarró por el cuello y comenzó a apretar. En ese momento supe que me iba a matar. Cuando ya no tenía fuerzas, solo en mi mente dije: “Señor, este hombre me va a matar”, y en un instante me soltó.

Yo sé que Dios me dio esa oportunidad de vida porque tenía propósitos conmigo. Inmediatamente comencé a buscar la manera de irme y dejar a mi esposo. Fue difícil, porque el miedo y la inseguridad se apoderan de tu mente. Pero yo estaba segura de que, si había un próximo problema, no me iría bien. Sentí en mi corazón que Dios me decía: “Escapa por tu vida”. Y eso fue lo que hice.

Me tomó muchos años poder ser mentalmente sana, porque las heridas eran profundas. Por fuera parecían sanas, pero por dentro seguían sangrando. Solo cuando decidí entregar mi corazón hecho pedazos a Jesús, Él empezó una sanidad, junto con una transformación que cambió mi vida totalmente.

Ahora mi visión es ayudar a mujeres que viven una vida de miedo e inseguridad en una relación enfermiza. Hay sanidad, libertad y salvación en nuestro Señor Jesucristo. Ahora sé que mi pasado no define mi presente, porque mi presente está en Cristo, y a Él quiero servir por siempre.

Amiga, si estás leyendo este testimonio, quiero decirte que el Señor te ama. Refúgiate en Él, donde encontrarás amor, libertad, paz, sanidad, restauración y, más que todo, salvación.

Podría escribir mucho más sobre todo lo que pasé y sufrí desde niña, pero nada de eso es comparable a lo que Jesús pasó y soportó por nosotros. Él murió en la cruz. Su sacrificio no fue en vano. Hoy puedo confesar que Dios me ha salvado y mi vida la dedico a Él; para Él vivo.

Dios nos creó con propósitos. Dios no ha terminado tu historia.

Dios te bendiga,
Humilde sierva del Señor.