About Me

Professionally

I was first exposed to sign language at the age of four when a group by the name of “Signs of Love” from Christ for the Nations came to my church to perform. I absorbed some of the signs and begin to use them in the worship services at church. A few years later, I was attending a church in Seminole, OK at which there was a sign language interpreter. I began to copy her during the worship services and learned how to sign a few songs. When we moved to Henryetta, OK, I began signing on my own with the worship team with my very limited skills. At that point in my life, it was more interpretive dance with my hands than actual sign language, because I would make up signs for words I had not learned the signs for. I continued to express my worship through my hands with my made up signs blended with learned signs, incorporating dramatic costumes for performances.

At the age of 12, in Grove, OK, I met a woman by the name of Dawne Erickson. She had ironically been a part of “Signs of Love” during her college years at Christ for the Nations. Dawne took me under her wing and began teaching me sign language on a weekly basis. After about 6 months of learning sign language, God moved us to another church and I continued to teach myself to sign from a sign language book. That year, I had my first two interactions with deaf individuals. One was a boy at school who had recently moved from Arkansas; the other a woman who began attending the church I was attending. This woman patiently endured my limited interpreting skills through the services and gave me my name sign. I was encouraged to pursue interacting with the Deaf Community, but had not yet learned about the profession of interpreting. At the tender age of 13, my aspiration was to attend Christ for the Nations and become a part of the group which had inspired me to begin with.

In 1997, at the age of 13, my family moved to Alton, MO. I first met a young deaf girl who was in third grade at my school. I began tutoring her and interacting with her in the after school program as well as socially. I also taught my gifted and talented class how to sign a song, which we performed for the elementary school during my 7^th grade year. I had also begun attending a church in a nearby town, Thayer, MO. There was an adult deaf man who was developmentally challenged attending the church and I quickly befriended him and his caretakers. His caretakers took me under their wing and introduced me to the Deaf Community. I got my first taste of Deaf Culture at a Deaf Club in West Plains, MO. I attended monthly club meetings and social gatherings and interacted with the Community. At this time, I had not learned the difference between signed English and American Sign Language. Luckily, the Deaf individuals in my life were patient with my ignorance and accepted me anyway.

A year later, I found myself interpreting again in the church setting. My family had moved to the Gulf Coast between Galveston, TX and Beaumont, TX. Word got out that there was a signer at the church I was attending, and a Deaf family began attending. In my ignorant incompetence, I “interpreted” the service the best I knew how. As I look back, I understand now that I was transliterating and signing very strong English, some SEE signs.

In July 2000, God brought my family back to OK. I was heading into my sophomore year of high school, now realizing my dreams of going to Christ for the Nations would not come to pass. I was still ignorant of a career in interpreting, but I knew I wanted to work with sign language and deaf persons. For two years I was privileged to work with a third grader in my school. I began going to her after-school program and interacting with her and her interpreter. I was building my knowledge base of signs and finding out there were different dialects between states. One particular Saturday morning, I happened to be listening to the police scanner (my dad was a police officer) and heard the deaf student’s name and that she had fallen off a 7 foot wall at the high school. I quickly rushed to the school and accompanied her to the hospital. I interpreted for her until her parents arrived a few hours later. Looking back, I am thankful that nothing serious came of that situation, as I was not qualified to be in that role.

The summer after my junior year of high school I began attending classes at East Central University in Ada, OK. I enrolled as a Human Resources, Concentration Services to the Deaf major with a minor in interpreting. I completed ASL I, II, and III, still not understanding the difference between signed English and ASL. I completed two years before burning out and moving into the workforce unrelated to sign language.

October, 2009 I realized I had thrown away my one true passion and decided to pursue it yet again. I inquired about classes at OSU-OKC’s interpreter training program. In November, I enrolled and began taking classes in January 2010. During the three semesters I’ve attended at OSU-OKC, I have come to understand the nuances of sign language in a far richer way than ever. I came to understand that ASL was a language of its own, with a structure far different from English. The professors challenged me and raised me to a new level in my skill. I will forever be grateful for the training I’ve received at this amazing school. February 11, 2011 I took the Oklahoma Quality Assurance Screening Test (QAST) and achieved a level I in interpreting (2% from achieving a level II) and a level II in transliterating.

(Updated 6/22/12) I am currently in the position of an educational sign language interpreter in Nebraska. I now hold a 3.1 EIPA score. I no longer hold QAST certification. 

Spiritually

I grew up in a Christian home. My first memories consist of attending a Rhema Church in Prague, Oklahoma. At the age of 4 I was casting out demons from my cassette player that wouldn't work telling the devil I would, "roll him up like a basketball and throw him out." My cassette player had a long life after that. ;p I also remember at that tender age, many remarkable things happened. My parents, brother, and I were involved in a serious wreck. I was in the back of a Bronco, which did not have seats in the back. Above my head was a piece of wood that had nails in it. During the wreck, I saw Y'Shua Himself. He put my head between my knees in the "crash position" and I was not hurt in any way. I don't believe I even had a scratch on me. Later, my brother asked me how I knew to get in the crash position, and I relayed back to him that "Jesus pushed my head between my knees and held me." Also at that tender age, I remember laying hands on my mom for her head injury from the accident, and watching the goose egg on her head shrink down. At another time, when I was about 3 or 4 years old, we were visiting a friend of ours, Ms. Windell. She had a prayer room and she took me in there. I looked up at her and asked, "Is this the room where Jesus manifests Himself?" Astonished, all she could say in response was a meek, "yes."

At the age of 6, my parents and I were over at a family friend's house, very similar to a "house church" setting. The adults were in the living room and they sent us kids back into the bedroom to play. What they didn't realize is that we were having our own prayer service back there. That night I was saved and filled with the Holy Spirit in the living room of our dear friend. A few weeks later I requested to be baptized in our church. Our pastor was against it, saying I was way too young and did not understand salvation or baptism. My parents assured him I did understand it, so he humored them and came to our house to have me explain it to him. I don't recall what I told him, but he was apparently impressed because only a short time later I was baptized in his church. 

All through childhood, while other children were being "normal" I was seeing angels and demons and using my authority. When I was 8 years old, my mom saw my guardian angel walk into my bedroom. A few nights later I remember seeing demons watching me from outside. I remember praying, rebuking them, and watching them  run away from the house. Yes, it sounds incredible, but I remember it like it was yesterday. When I was 9 years old, I was taking the Iowa Test of Basic Skills (ITBS test) in my 3rd grade classroom. The desk next to me was empty because the kid was sick that day. I remember looking to the desk next to me and seeing an angel sitting there. I knew he was there for a purpose, to give me a message. After school, I sat in my classroom waiting for my bus to be called (Snoopy bus ;p). I always carried my Bible with me; so I was praying and asking God to show me why the angel was there. I opened up my Bible to Acts 26:16, 17, and 18. I knew from that moment that I was called to preach. 

When I was about 10 years old, October 24, 1995, I was attending a church in Gilchrist, TX. where my family was going through ministry school. That week, we were having a minister's conference and I begged the pastor to allow me to attend. Because he knew I was well-behaved and not a distraction like the other children, and that I had a heart for ministry, he allowed me to attend. Before the service, I was talking with some men, telling them my "testimony" of what had happened to me up until that point. Little did I realize that the main person I was speaking to was the one leading the conference. When he opened the conference, he began talking about how he was preaching at the age of 10. He asked me to come and give my testimony. When I was finished speaking, an apostle and a prophet stood up simultaneously and said God told them to ordain me. I had no idea what that meant, until later my parents explained to me that I would be able to preach and conduct weddings, etc. I did preach many nights in that little church on the Bolivar Peninsula. It was there God prophesied over me through our pastor's wife saying I would have a ministry similar to Kathryn Kuhlman. 

I remained an on-fire-for-God girl all through my adolescent years. I was dubbed with many nicknames: Holy Holley (at the time I went by my first name: Holley); Bible Thumper; Holy Roller; and many more that I've long forgotten. I was always "different," the outcast among my peers. I was always strong and blatant about what I believed, constantly preaching to my classmates whether they wanted to hear it or not. When I was in 8th grade, one teacher would use me to minister to the class since he couldn't say anything. In another class, we were doing a "play" on the Bill of Rights in my history class. I was in a group of 3, and our topic was freedom of religion, etc. I wrote a sermon and was preaching at the school. Just about the whole junior high and some of the high school was in attendance. As part of our "performance" I was carried away in handcuffs, kicking and screaming how my rights were being violated. For the rest of the week, I had students approaching me asking about God and how to get saved. I was respected by some, hated by many. 

Approaching my teenage years, I was not tempted to do things that "normal" teenagers did. I was critical of those that drank, danced dirty, cussed, had premarital sex, did drugs, etc. While other teenagers were partying, I was on my knees all hours of the night crying out for Revival and praying for the salvation of my classmates. I spent every spare minute I had researching revival, longing for nothing more. In July 2000, my family and I moved back to Oklahoma. It was at that point that my life began to change, unbeknownst to me. I had no idea that in two years time, everything I knew would be shaken. My faith had never been a question for me before. And even as I watched my world crash around me, I still had a heart for God. But I didn't know that the path I had walked within the Institution of Church (hereon called the IC) would radically change. Without going into details, my family was destroyed by the church we loved so dearly. Ministries were ripped from our hands. Those whom I had called friends were now my enemies and I had nothing left to turn to except God. It was in that church that I worshiped freely and passionately... countless intimate moments with God. I grieved the passing of those days. 

2002-2005 I spent church-hopping, searching for another place that had the intimacy during worship that I had previously known. Having tried every non-denominational church in the region, I declared the area a "dry barren wasteland." The Spirit of God was absent from the churches and I deeply grieved, still not understanding what was happening in my life. In 2004 or 2005, I don't recall exactly when, my mom and I came across Rabbi Michael Rood on TV. He was teaching about the pagan roots of Christmas and Easter. It was at this point our eyes began to be opened. But I still struggled to be a part of a congregation, which I was coming to realize, I had NEVER fit in with any church I had attended. I was always the "odd ball" of the group, never accepted into the youth groups, and looked down on by the adults. 

At the age of 21, I began to wonder what was on the other side of the proverbial fence. I was a DJ at our local radio station, which was at the time, transitioning into a Christian station. We had a country station as well, and I quickly became friends with the main DJ for that station. Since we worked together, we spent a lot of time talking and began to hang out. She would DJ on the side at the Bowling Alley's Bar on Wednesday nights. So I went with her. Until that point I had never been curious about alcohol. But even at that point, I was not curious about getting drunk or stepping too far outside my role of the "good little christian girl" I had always been. But I was feeling rather rebellious against the restrictions I had felt were put on me by the church. I had my first taste of alcohol, but dared not drink enough to find out the effects. I never drank more than 1 bottle of Smirnoff's; and honestly had no desire to get drunk. I simply wanted to challenge the lines that had been drawn by the church. I spent the next 6 years becoming angrier and angrier at God, feeling abandoned by Him.

During my angry years, I still sought God. I complained incessantly that He had abandoned me, but I never fully turned away. I still was searching for His Presence and greatly grieving my days in the IC. In 2006, my family moved back to the town I had graduated from high school. That was the beginning of our "dark days" as our family looks back on them. In light of our new understanding of Christmas and Easter being pagan holidays, we began seeking out others who believed the same way. We met some Messianic people online and tried to follow their doctrine. It was more legalistic than we could tolerate, so we quickly dropped that. But I did meet my best friend, Alyssa, through a Messianic Singles group. And even once I was outside of the Messianic faith, she and I continued to grow closer. But our time in that town had become the death of us. The whole family went into a deep depression, at times some of us even secretly considered suicide. There was a demonic influence over that region that had a strong choke-hold on the lives of those living there. 

In 2007, we moved away from that town and began to slowly come out of our dark days; but the depression had a stronghold on us that would take two years to break. In the new town, we began attending a Church of God 7th Day. We soon discovered it was no different than the Messianic faith, and it choked the very life out of us. Desperate for some kind of life and fellowship, we attempted to return to our roots in the non-denominational church. We spent over a year going through the motions, even being involved in ministry... all the while dying inside. There were only small glimpses of God's Presence. We left that church, still angry at God for abandoning us in the Wilderness. It was at this point I realized that it wasn't the region I had formerly lived in... it was me. Something was wrong with me. I couldn't stand to be in the church. I hated watching everyone around me seem to feel the anointing when I felt nothing. I hated watching the same old scene play out every week. And I was grieved to watch the teenagers worship passionately, for it reminded me of the teenager I had been not too long before. 

After leaving that church, I attended a service where a friend of mine was preaching. I was broken beyond repair and desperate to hear from God. I sat praying through the whole service, hoping God would speak to me. By the end of the service, I was furious with God. He had overlooked me, the one He had once called the apple of His Eye, the Daughter of Zion. He had forgotten me and not answered my cry for help. I was just about to walk out when a man stopped me and began to prophesy over me. He said God showed him something about me and asked if I had ever heard of Kathryn Kuhlman. I broke down in tears. I adopted this man as a mentor, believing him to be a prophet of God. But soon, i was reminded that God can use asses to speak to us too. :/ This man (who is married) texted me late one night asking me weird questions. I didn't believe it was him because of how odd the questions he was asking me were. He sent me a pic mssg of himself lying in bed in a hotel room, and proceeded to tell me how lonely he was. It really freaked me out, and I was still convinced someone else had gotten ahold of his phone. I didn't want to believe that the man God had used to speak to me would be saying such strange, inappropriate things to me. The next day he called me and said he was just trying to get information because he wanted to set me up with someone he knew. But I never heard anything more about this "someone" after that phone call. This man continued to "mentor" me, knowing I was broken beyond repair. I never once remember him getting his wife involved in ministering to me, though I had hoped she would because I felt trouble could easily come from our relationship, even though it was platonic on my side. I was concerned suspicions would be raised, but I never said anything. After all, he was a man of God. During his time mentoring me, he began to tell me that God would heal me if I would go to such and such church and I was to remain there 6 months. I obeyed to begin with; but after a short time, I felt like I had at every other church. After about 3 months, I stopped attending. My "mentor" suddenly stopped speaking to me. My heart was even more broken that it had been when I met him. I didn't understand what I did wrong.

My mom sent an email to him on my behalf, asking what was going on. He proceeded to tell her that I was disobedient to God; that I was going to hell because I didn't obey, and that God would never heal my brokenness. To say the least, I was livid. I was furious not only at the man who said these harsh things, but at God because I believed him to be a prophet of God. I ran. I'd had enough of God if He was going to be so cruel and uncaring. If He wasn't the loving, compassionate Father I had always thought Him to be, I wanted nothing to do with Him. I rebelled in the only way I could bring myself to rebel: my language. I didn't turn to alcohol. I was (and still am) a virgin. I didn't turn to drugs or anything else. I simply stopped filtering my words and allowed them to be as harsh and offensive as they could possibly be. I was tired of walking on egg shells for the church, and I'd be damned before I fell under their constraints again. That's how I felt about it. But inside, I knew she was still there... "she" was the good little christian girl, now grieving her slow and painful death.

After a year or so, I came back around to searching for God again, but I was still angry and had no plans of changing who I had become for the sake of the church people. I hated church people with a passion. I wanted answers, though. I wanted a confrontation with God. Again, I was in and out of churches, even the one I had left and been called disobedient for leaving. But I still felt alone. The rage inside couldn't be held back any longer. So I stopped searching within the IC once and for all. 

The past year has been a wild journey for me. I have had moments where I felt close to God, and others where He couldn't possibly be any further away. I have been bitter, angry, resentful, and devastated by the IC. I have carried that weight around for far too long. One night, just prior to beginning this blog, I cried out to God and He heard my cry. He answered me in a new way and opened the eyes of my understanding. Since then, I have come to relax in the wilderness. He promised to create streams in the Wilderness and life in the dry barren wasteland. He promised to restore me. He opened my eyes about my path and I have once again begun searching; but this time, I know that my place is not in the IC. My place is here in the dry barren wasteland, the Wilderness... at least for now. My purpose is to share my story with others beginning to walk in the dry barren wasteland so they can see that they are not alone... and that it's okay to feel the way they do. It's part of the process. It's okay to admit to being angry at God. He's still right there, even when we can't recognize or feel Him. 

As for now, i'm still walking slowly through the Wilderness. I am not complaining about it, but I do still have my concerns and apprehensions that I deal with on a daily basis. I still feel frustrated from time to time because I can't see the big picture or any of the details. All I can see is the vast, lonely desert around me. But I have a fresh hope of walking out of the Wilderness into the Promised Land. So that's where I am now. :)

(updated 6/22/12) Since the "past year" mentioned above, it has been another year. I have had to face the question of my heart and present it to God. "Who do YOU say I am? What is Your heart toward me?" I have only received answers in the past few weeks. I feel freer than ever. I have passed tests that I've failed for years. I have learned much in THIS past year. I am finding out who I am and the bullets can't touch me anymore. I took the pill which sent me down the rabbit hole and I don't regret it. :)

PERSONAL

There's not much else to say beyond the professional and spiritual aspects of my life. I have moved around a lot. I have lived in 30+ towns across 4 different states. I have attended 16+ schools from elementary through college. I have lived an extraordinary life, having adventures that many people could only dream of. I spent time working on a missionary ship in Galveston, TX. I've witnessed miracles. I've met people from all over the world. I have learned so many different things. I have had a full life, a roller coaster of ups and downs. I am 28 years old, single, and waiting for the one God promised me, my Beloved. What else could I possibly say? My life story is spelled out, almost in detail, above in two sections...