Thanksgiving: The Wilderness I Chose Over the Cage

Thanksgiving. We are conditioned to picture warmth, a huge table, and the secure presence of family. But for some of us, that image is a cruel joke. For a broken, abused child, seeking comfort and restoration, the holiday only serves to illuminate the deepest, most painful truth: I had to run away from the place society said was meant to save me.

The street was the wilderness, full of dangers my innocent mind never fully grasped, but the foster system was a cage disguised as a home. My mother signed me over to the state after years of abuse and neglect. I thought, This is my chance for healing. Instead, I was met with more abuse, more demands, and the soul-crushing realization that my well-being was a line item on a government check.

I would sit at the Thanksgiving table in a foster home, surrounded by people who were paid to love me, and feel the deepest isolation imaginable. The plate was full, but the nourishment was missing. While they offered performative gratitude, I felt the chilling weight of being a commodity. My trauma was currency, and my survival was their paycheck. I learned very quickly that being unseen on the cold street was often less damaging than being constantly disappointed in a warm house.

God’Sip: It was in that profound isolation that I first understood the power of a promise found in scripture: “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.” (Psalm 27:10). This Thanksgiving, that promise is the only feast that truly satisfies.

And that is why, when I was still just a teenager, I made a gamble. I chose the honest, visible dangers of the streets over the suffocating betrayal of a system that failed me. This Thanksgiving, when you talk about being thankful for family, I ask you to look deeper.

The “Tea”: The greatest act of self-preservation is sometimes running toward the unknown, even the dangerous unknown, just to escape the known cruelty of the promised safe haven.

The Theological Principle: Redemptive Suffering

My story is a living testament to the theological principle of Redemptive Suffering, the truth that God does not waste our wounds. My pain was not meant to be a permanent prison; it was meant to be a profound preparation.

In the midst of feeling utterly forsaken by the world, I began to see that my suffering, the homelessness, the abuse, the systemic betrayal—was being used as a crucible to refine and equip me. The Bible teaches that God can work all things, even terrible things, for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28).

This is the power of our faith. God took the very things meant to destroy me and turned them into the foundation of my greatest passion and purpose. He didn’t just heal me; He equipped me with the unique compassion and fire needed to serve.

The Redemption Feast: Perfected for Purpose

I share this with you not for pity, but to challenge the glossy images we see every holiday season. My journey from an abused child, betrayed by the system, to a runaway seeking honesty on the street, was a devastating path. But today, I see the truth behind the struggle.

The fear, the isolation, the hunger, it all forged a core of unbreakable resilience. It gave me eyes to see the unseen and a heart to serve the forgotten.

As I sit today, no longer a broken, searching girl, but as the owner of the Blue Bag Foundation Inc, I can say that I give all the honor, all the praise, to Jesus Christ, Adonai my Redeemer.

He knew every moment of pain was not arbitrary; it was meant to prepare me for a time like this. I am not simply recovered; I am perfected in His image, ready to carry the warmth I never received to those who are shivering tonight.

The Call to Justice: True gratitude isn’t for the abundance on your table, but for the inherent, unconditional value of every child. We are called to stand up for the vulnerable, as the Bible commands: “Defend the cause of the weak and fatherless; maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.” (Psalm 82:3). That is the real work of thanksgiving.

Final God’Sip and Tea

This is the true Thanksgiving miracle: The trauma was not the end of my story, but the crucible that created my purpose. Let your gratitude move you from your table to the vulnerable, because every broken life is a blueprint for God’s next miracle.