Three Nineteen

 

Three nineteen.

 

Those two words hold such significance to me. They refer to the date, March Nineteenth. The day will forever be etched into my memory.

 

March 19, 2023, is the day we thought we had been waiting for. Our back-and-forth communications with the church elders had made no progress for months. Our heads and wheels were on a continual spin cycle, and we did not understand what was going on.

 

But finally, we were given a date. Three nineteen. We would sit in a meeting and hopefully be provided answers for the behavior we had witnessed, for the very first time.

 

My stomach was in knots. Hope and fear took over my thoughts in shifts. My closest friends prayed expectantly for us. Perhaps this will be the turning point. Maybe life could all go back to normal after this. The possibility of honest answers, accountability, and productive communication couldn’t be left on the table. 

 

So we went. 

 

My husband held my hand through the parking lot. He led me through the church doors, five months pregnant, at six-thirty in the evening, on the last day of winter. 

 

Sadly, all of our hopes were sucked out of the room within the first ten minutes. I’m not sure there could’ve been a more tragic beginning to that meeting, which might as well go for the middle and end of it too.

 

We left the church that day filled with grief, condemnation, and despair. 

 

I spent the following year trying to understand what exactly happened to us that day. 

 

Three nineteen. 

 

In the weeks leading up to the first anniversary of that gut-wrenching gathering, there was a stirring within me. I had consumed books, listened to podcasts and YouTube episodes, and attended conferences and virtual meetings about the topic of spiritual abuse. I had sat through counseling session after counseling session to process everything I had experienced. I was still in the thick of the devastating effects of religious trauma and with each passing day I came to realize that ‘Three Nineteen’ would affect me forever. 

 

The stirring I was having was not only one of pain but there was also a desperate desire to tell others what I had learned so that I possibly could help another person, even if it was just one. 

 

I also had a passion for equipping the church, to help other believers understand why their efforts to care for those with religious trauma often fall flat. Perhaps there was a way for God to use me. But my family and I could not commit to another faith community. How would I reach them? Hmm, I waited.  

 

Leading up to March 19, 2024, the leader of a care group I attended sent me her daughter’s blog. I was curious. Her daughter lived in Costa Rica with her husband and family. As I read through a few of her blog posts, I thought, huh, I’m intrigued. I don’t know this chick, but I’m interested in what she has to say.

 

A short time later, I happened to be looking for ways to help my husband with his new business. A few bunny trails later, and this time I was directly confronted with the idea of starting a blog myself. Hmm, that’s a thought.

 

I sat on the idea. I prayed. 

 

What followed after that took me by surprise. It felt like a waterfall of inspiration fell from the sky. Idea after idea flooded my mind about everything we had walked through and how it could be used to comfort the hurting, but also to help others recognize, see, or understand spiritual abuse. In less than an hour I had written down about 25 writing prompts and blog post titles. The feeling was both overwhelming and exhilarating. And ultimately, it became a deep conviction to share about this taboo topic.

 

By the time I realized that it was the third week of March, I had already begun brainstorming names for my website and even the logo. Longing for redemption, I decided that I would officially commit to what I felt God calling me to. On March 19, 2024, I purchased the domain name, Where the Wounded Wander. 

 

Three nineteen.

 

The next six months were filled with prayer, exhaustion, and perseverance. My baby was eight months old when I began learning how to create a website from scratch. He didn’t sleep well at night and he didn’t nap for long during the day. 

 

I knew I needed to be gentle with myself because my body was still processing a lot of loss, nurturing a baby, homeschooling, and attempting to care for my family’s daily needs, as well as their own grief. I tried to commit to learning something related to blogging or website design at least once a week, but the progress was admittedly, so slow.

 

Many times, I would fall asleep taking notes from a DIY blogging YouTube video. There were many moments when I thought this may never come to fruition. Month after month went by and I didn’t have much to show for it.

 

A lot of what I was learning didn’t feel intuitive. I thought I would be able to learn much faster than the rate I was going. I was frustrated and quite honestly felt that I must be pretty dense. 

 

My planner from these months was etched with my mothering and homeschooling tasks and some hopeful things I wanted to learn for the website. Many times I did not, or could not get around to it. 

 

I watched and re-watched certain how-to videos, often needing to digest what was being taught to me in three-second chunks, hitting pause again, and taking notes, before moving on to the next three seconds of learning. Some days, all I could do was pray that the Lord would motivate and strengthen me to accomplish it if it was truly His will. I asked Him to close the door if it wasn’t from Him. I knew it would not be hard for Him to stop me seeing that I had such little time and energy.

 

At the four-month mark, I wrote down a list of what I had learned and what I had yet to learn. I wrote short empowering messages to myself in the margins of my weekly planner, like, “You’re doing it!” Or, “Keep going!” I was my only cheerleader, and I have always said I was never cut out to be one. 

 

By August, I had built the bones of the website and was needing to work on the details. I had studied other blogs and searched through free images that I could use on my site. I wasn’t in love with what I was seeing, but I also didn’t know what I was searching for. Ultimately, I decided to try my hand at taking my own photos and even drawing my own blog post images. Bit by bit, it all came together to the point where I felt like the blog’s “atmosphere” was finally coming together.

 

I don’t feel I can take much credit for any of this. Every task was difficult. Every decision was hard for me. I had to pray and wait for what seemed like every single detail to come into focus. My head was foggy and most of the time I didn’t understand what the heck I needed to do. This entire blog came out of the weakest time period of my entire life. God granted me a miracle. 

 

Three nineteen.

 

I officially launched my blog on October 1st, 2024. I was not sure what to expect because I am not familiar with what is “normal” in this industry, but I’ll share a few specs.

 

1st week – 2,331 Views total, 759 Users

1st month – 3,644 Views total, 1,051 Users

3 months – 5,664 Views total, 1,546 Users

 

At the end of the month, I’ll be able to mark my six-month progress. Right now I have over 8,000 Views total, 2,328 Users, which are across more than 10 countries. I try not to get hung up on the numbers, but watching them remain consistent reminds me that my words matter and that I’m reaching people.

 

Also, my first blog post was republished by The Roys Report on October 26 2024, and republished again by Religion Unplugged on November 2, 2024. Author and Survivor, Naghmeh Panahi, reposted my first blog post to her social media channel on January 6, 2025.

 

These milestones were and are such an encouragement to my heart that the message of what I felt compelled to write resonates with others, comforts them, and informs them. I consistently pray that my words will be used to help the body of Christ.

 

When I reflect on the resources and people that have helped me survive, which is not an exaggeration, of what had happened to us, I’m so grateful to provide a form of care to others who are wounded and wandering.

 

Three nineteen.

 

On the date that the church was used against me, I would use my voice to help it. 

On the date that I was told to keep things hidden, I would expose what was kept in the dark.

On the date that I was powerless to the spiritual harm directed at me and my family, I would reclaim my autonomy to warn other individuals.

On the date that was meant for destruction, God would provide redemption. 

On the date that was marred with confusion, I would proclaim all that God had made clear.

On the date we were wounded, I would attempt to provide care for the hurting.

On the date we were led out to the wilderness, I would seek after the lost.

On the date I was misunderstood, I would try to provide understanding for those who had walked a similar road.

 

Is there a particular date on the calendar that reminds you of something sad, hard, or tragic that you experienced? How do you generally spend that day? Have you seen it redeemed in any way? Are there choices you can make to redeem it?