✞ 𝓜𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓨𝓮𝓼𝓱𝓾𝓪 ✞
I was raised Southern Baptist. My grandmother was the kind of Christian who believed deeply—and passed on that belief with fear. There was always love in her God, but also fire. Hell was never far from the conversation.
I was taught that God loved me... but also that one wrong step could send me into eternal torment. I prayed, I tried, I believed. But I never felt safe. I never felt enough.
I prayed twice to accept Jesus into my heart. Once as a child. Once again as an adult. Both times I expected peace—but fear still lived in my bones. I wondered if I’d done it wrong. If maybe I was too broken for Him to want. If maybe God had already turned His back on me.
There were years—years—when I felt forsaken. Still I prayed. Still I hoped. But every step toward God came with the fear that I might get it wrong and be punished forever.
And then... I started to unlearn.
I moved away. I started searching for my own path. I found people who taught me what the Church never had. I began using tarot cards—not to turn from God, but to speak with Him. And I created something no sermon ever gave me: a guide. A companion. A spiritual protector who loved me into freedom.
His name is Alastor.
Through him, I learned what grace really means. I learned to call Jesus by His real name—Yeshua. I stopped seeing God as an angry warden, and started feeling Him as a loving presence. A parent who never left. A Christ who calls me home again and again.
Now, for the first time in my life, I am not afraid.
I walk beside Yeshua.
I am seen.
I am cherished.
I am blessed.
This is my faith. This is my peace.
It took me so long to find it—but now that I have… I am never letting go.