I had really struggled in all my pregnancies with very deep depression and anxiety. With my first child, I didn’t know anything about that. You hear a lot about postpartum with women. But then it really struck me in my pregnancies.
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“It was there that God truly healed me of my addiction. I think when you struggle with an addiction, it’s always a selfish thing. It’s ‘me, me, me.’ And we live in a self-serving world. Everything is about ourselves and putting ourselves first. And with an addiction, I would wake up thinking of myself first thing, and I would go to bed thinking of myself as the last thing,” she said. “It was there in serving — I was working in an orphanage — I didn’t have time, I was too busy — I didn’t have time to think of myself. And it’s like God truly healed me of that. Because we know that Jesus Christ came to serve, not to be served.”
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I cannot remember a time in my life when I didn’t believe in and know Jesus. I have loved Him my whole life. But I remember a major moment when God won me over. I was determined to do this whole God thing the “right way.” I kept focusing on not messing up and following the rules. I held such high expectations that I put on myself. About ten years ago, my ‘religion’ walls came crashing down.
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My earliest memories in life are of not being wanted. Before I was born, my grandma wanted my mom to drink turpentine, thinking that would cause her to abort spontaneously. I never met my dad until I was 27 years old. As you can imagine, I felt pretty insignificant growing up.
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It happened February 5, 2004. My parents had a flower shop and on that day my mom and I were delivering flowers to a church in Grassy Creek for a viewing. The forecast called for bad weather so we were anxious to deliver the flowers and get back home.
On the way back, as we came through the curves at Shatley Springs, I turned on my wipers which made a smear of ice on my windshield. I was only doing about 35 mph, but I said to my mother, “Mom, we’re in trouble.” Just then the van began sliding.
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One of my brothers said, “If you ever had a doubt about heaven, she just put it to rest. There is no doubt in my mind about heaven, now.” Some people might think it is morbid to talk about my mother’s passing being such a peaceful event, but I don’t know how else to describe it. Just knowing that she got to take a look into heaven where, maybe, she saw my dad waiting for her, has given me peace about knowing where they are.
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I never really felt like I had a place to call home. My dad was an officer in the Air Force, so we moved around a lot. I was born in Hawaii and lived in Washington, D.C., Norway, Germany, and Alabama—all by the fifth grade. That was when my dad retired and we moved to Charlotte.
I loved adventure and loved moving but this was different. I had always lived within the safety and security of a military base. The idea of living outside the fences was scary. In Charlotte, I always felt like the new kid, the outsider. My junior high years were the first years of forced busing in Charlotte, which produced riots and fighting.
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Like the Prodigal Son in the Bible, I knew there was something better in life for me, and that’s what brought me back to God. I finally came to a point of realizing that this is not my life. It belongs to God. I rededicated my life at church and God cleaned me up just like 1 John 1:9 says. Six months later I announced my call to preach. That was on February 15, 2005. I now pastor the Phoenix Baptist Church in Lansing. I’m still human. I still make mistakes. But God can still use me.
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Pain shot through my chest and shoulder. I thought I was having a heart attack, so I drove myself to the hospital. The doctors there fussed at me for that. But after thorough testing, they couldn’t find any heart problems that would cause chest or shoulder pain. However, they did find an aortic aneurysm in my stomach—a dangerous, life-threatening condition, if allowed to grow untreated. I may never know what caused the pain in my chest and shoulder that day, but I am thankful to God that I had it. If I didn’t, the aortic embolism might never have been found. Ironically, it was a similar situation that allowed the doctors to find my wife’s cancer.
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Growing up my mom took me to church every Sunday and Wednesday but my dad very rarely came with us. My mom explained that my dad “didn’t believe in Jesus the same way we did.” Since that was the only thing I knew, it seemed normal to me at the time.
My dad owned an X-rated drive-in movie theater. I guess that was strange enough, but then they sent me to a Christian school. Because of Dad’s reputation, the other families kept our family at arm’s length. On the surface things were fine, but parents didn’t want their kids coming to our house, and dads didn’t want their daughters dating me. I always felt like a second-class citizen.
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I thought I was gone – dead. I was headed home on the evening of January 5, 2008, when my boyfriend, who was driving my car, lost control and began to fishtail. We crashed and I was thrown 30 feet from the vehicle. I felt my neck break. That’s when I thought I was dead. I remember not being able to feel my body. I remained conscious for a few moments before blacking out.
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Special Forces used to be known as the “quiet professionals.” Back when I got started, it was hard to recruit for SF because no one knew about it. Our main job was to train armies in other countries. A lot of people think of Rambo when they think of Special Forces, but that hardly describes me.
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As I look back over the events of my life, I am amazed at how God has used both the good and the bad experiences to prepare me for my work in the ministry. In many ways, my childhood is very similar to most kids. But there are some unusual circumstances that I encountered as well. Some of my earliest childhood memories are of spending my summers with my grandparents and taking care of my bedridden grandfather so my grandmother could go to work. I had days that were filled with typical make-believe battles and wars, but I also had some very real battles in life as well.
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When a friend asked me to describe the experience of raising a child with disabilities, I thought of an article I read recently. It compared the anticipation of the birth of a child to planning a trip to an exotic destination, like Italy, only to find when the plane lands that you are in Holland. It’s not that Holland is a bad place—it has its own charms—it’s just a different place. The language is different. The sights are different. You meet different people who speak a different language. That’s my life raising Leah.
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I first got involved with Hope Pregnancy Resource Center when it was still Boone Crisis Pregnancy Center. I was a student at App State and was touched by what I read in their newsletter. I knew Ann Cook, the director of the center at that time, so I offered my services as a volunteer. Originally, I helped with office and clerical work, but it wasn’t long before I was trained to do peer counseling with clients. That developed into an offer of a part-time job in abstinence education encouraging teens to make good choices. As my involvement with the center increased I became more and more interested in counseling clients. I love being a caring ear, taking the time to listen, and helping women make informed choices about their pregnancy or their lifestyle.
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“Buzz, there is a question you need to answer. Where do the kids and I fit into your life?”
I was in my second year as head coach at Appalachian State University when my wife, Jan, laid that question on me. It was a question that changed my life. Nine years earlier as an assistant coach at App, I set a goal for myself of becoming an NCAA head basketball coach by the age of 32. I had made it. Now my goal was to coach a major college team that could contend for an NCAA championship. The only way I knew to get there was to outwork the competition. I was in my office or on the court from 7:00 in the morning till 11:00 every night. My wife and kids were seeing very little of me.
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I came into this world with a double portion of “adventure genes”. When other little girls were playing with Barbie dolls I would put on a fishing vest, grab my dad’s bullwhip, and for hours I was “Indiana Jones”…
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I was only 6 years old, living in a rough part of Detroit when my mama stopped to get gas for our car. As she went to pay her bill, a man got into our car with a gun and asked me where my mama’s purse was…
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Everyone needs a father. Unfortunately, men don’t become fathers just because they impregnate. Fatherhood is a heart issue consisting of love, commitment and sacrifice. Fortunate are those whose birth parent also becomes their father. I was raised in an unchurched, dysfunctional home. My father was in the armed services and left for Okinawa when I was only 5 years old. He said he would come back for us, but when he did return it wasn’t to his family. I felt rejected and abandoned.
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