The OG Salty Lady

I know the roads between ruin and redemption well. I wasn’t truly saved and walking in salvation until college. And the first thing I was ever truly aware that the Holy Spirit was revealing to me was who my husband would be. And it would be Andy. Which was just hysterically funny at the time. I don’t know how or who I thought married pastors, but it wasn’t “normal” people like me. I figured you had a special catalog to choose from or special school you went to, to find a husband.

We couldn’t have been more different. At nineteen he surrendered to full-time ministry and at twenty-two I surrendered to the Lord, and to the authorities the year before that. Drinking was a problem. Drinking and driving was a bigger problem. But defeat and depression were killing me. On my first date with the Rev. I had to share with him that I had a record, had been in jail, and though out and about now, was mostly dating Ronald McDonald on the weekends—for community service. Not really the girl you want next to you on the pew. And for sure not in the choir. I don’t sing or play an instrument either. I don’t know what Andy did to deserve me, but I bet it involved firecrackers, BB Guns, or spray paint.

Friend, I know how to pitch a tent so close to trouble you can see it and taste it. It tasted like a Tom Collins and a fair amount of Jack. I camped there long enough trouble moved because I was a bad influence. I rejected every rescue my parents or the Lord sent my way for several years. Sometimes because I liked my life just fine, sometimes because I could imagine no other life, sometimes because my life wasn’t worth living or saving. I had thrown away a scholarship, money, influence, opportunity, time, and was working pretty diligently to rid myself of a future as well. I had no license, no car, and couldn’t afford to live on my own anymore.


So right about the time my parents were surrendering to ministry, I was moving into their west wing intent to hinder and resist all ministry efforts. Do you want to go to church? No. Do you want to go outside? No. I was such a fool. The year they retired they gave me and my brothers a significant cash gift at Christmas just because they could and wanted us to invest in ourselves. They wanted us to see something or do something that changed us in some way. I remember just weeping as I held it. I had tears for several reasons. One, I couldn’t believe their generosity. Two, I felt so undeserving of it. Three, it was an answer to prayer, and I didn’t know the Lord could hear me. And four, because I needed that much money to pay an attorney that no one knew I needed.


It was several months before I told them the full extent of the trouble I was in, not just legally, but spiritually and emotionally too. I didn’t know how much I was hiding until I got clean and came clean. They never yelled or gave the “I’m disappointed,” I deserved to hear. They helped me reconcile every outstanding thing against me. Then never spoke of it again. They treated me like it had never happened—not to conceal or to hide for selfish or self-preserving reasons. In their minds it had been erased. It was gone and done. Their grace and mercy softened my heart enough to finally accept their invitation to church and then to accept Him in the invitation. And that was it. That was the day I ran. And ran hard. No looking back.

Hey Salty Lady— This is the Gospel. It makes us new. This is The Way. Walk in it. Run.