​It came time for vacation, and I went back to visit my mom and see Mike at Thanksgiving time.

After seeing him again, I really didn’t want to leave. That’s when I came up with the story that I was joining the military so they would pay for my college. It would keep me from facing my dad’s wrath for not going to Florida State right away, but the real reason I was joining was to get back with Mike.

I figured I could pick out a station near him because he was stationed at Oceana in Virginia Beach, and there were other naval stations nearby that I could put on my wish list. I really thought out of the three that you get to pick, you’d get one of them. But then I was told they’re just a wish list—if you’re lucky, you get one, but they’re going to send you wherever they want to, and I didn’t want to go away from Mike.

These were all plans made to just be near Mike, and at the time I was making them, neither one of us fully thought it through. After I had already enrolled and gone to Jacksonville, Florida, where they do their enrollment—where you get all your vaccinations and get ready to go, where you enlist basically—I was told I had already signed my life away in the military.

My father had mixed emotions. I think he kind of liked the idea that I was going into the military. For some reason, I think he was a little bit proud of that, and I also think there might’ve been part of him that liked the idea that he wouldn’t have to pay for a whole tuition, especially since he had already put off me going to school so that he only had to pay for an in-state tuition instead of an out-of-state. But honestly, it was just my way of getting near Mike.

And then the reality set in that I might not get to be near Mike anyway, and they could send me to Greenland or wherever they wanted to. This is when we decided if I got pregnant, I would get out of it—it was the only way to get out of it, that’s what Mike said, and that’s what all of his friends in the military said. So that’s what we tried to do. When I got my period, I assumed our plan hadn’t worked, so I had to go off and join the military.

I actually really liked it, and during that time I felt very accomplished and proud. I can’t quite describe it. There was just something about being in the military and serving your country that made you feel good. I was really proud of myself, and I started seeing it as a career. I did really well in Boot Camp, too, because Mike and his military friends had already prepared me for what to expect. They’re pretty rough on you, but I was told it was all a head game, and they told me how to deal with it, so I did pretty good.

I saw a lot of people who didn’t do as well. In fact, a lot of people turned to me for support, and I helped them calm down a little bit. Some of them were young like me, but although I was young, I’d been through a lot, so I wasn’t as tender as some of them. They were crying themselves to sleep at night, so I just helped.

We had some people who kept getting us in trouble, and our company commander (CC) made us get up and do our PT at like four in the morning instead of six in the morning like the rest of them, and it was grueling PT! Those obstacle courses you see on TV that they do—that’s for real, you do some pretty rough stuff.

And I was getting sick, so I went to the nurse’s office. Before she even ran the test, she said I’m about 90 percent sure, you’re pregnant. Test was positive 😮

I was told I could stay in, but I had to have an abortion, and there was no way I was going to have an abortion. And then they said, “Well, you can have the kid and then come back,” and I was like, there’s no way I’m gonna have a kid and come back in the military. Although there was a part of me that was really sad because I really was proud and happy to be in the military, the moment I found out that I was pregnant, my entire life changed. All I wanted to do was be a mom. That was the most important thing to me in the world to me.

And I was going to be a good mom, and I was going to build a good life. Being a mom was the only thing at that moment that mattered—a mom and a family. I was going to be a good wife, too. I wanted a good family. I wanted what I thought was wholesome, not what I had seen and what I grew up in. I never wanted my child to have to go through that. What I envisioned was a family like Leave it to Beaver—that was a TV show that I loved as a kid, and it’s what I thought a normal family should be and what they should look like, and that’s what I wanted to have. Becoming a mom and having a family was the only thing I cared about from that point on.

And then after that discovery, I had to sit there in the barracks for almost three weeks until I got discharged, because they make you get all this paperwork signed and you have to meet this person and that person—it was crazy just to get out. When I finally did get out, I took my discharge paycheck and bought my wedding dress.
​
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When I called the very next day in the middle of the day, I don’t know what I was expecting.

I think I just thought maybe he would answer the phone or something. I didn’t realize he had given me the number to a payphone in an empty barracks hall. I didn’t even know his last name.
I just called and asked for Mike.

It was a total miracle that from a payphone in the middle of an empty barracks hall
anyone was even there to answer,
let alone that he happened to be walking down the hall at the exact time when I called.

The person who answered first actually laughed at me
when I said I didn't know his last name, just Mike.
But he hollered out to the person walking down the hall anyway:
"Hey, do you know any Mike?"

And the person walking past was like, "Well, I’m Mike."

Out of all the people in the barracks, at that exact time of day,
the phone call got through to him.
Otherwise, I never would have seen him again.

That would’ve been really sad, and I thought about that for a long time.
I felt like it was meant to be.

So, I didn’t have a whole lot of time before I had to go see my dad.
We hit it off right away.

Pretty much every day I went to see him,
and I even snuck into the barracks and stayed in there.
His roommates actually thought it was kind of cool,
and everybody went out of their way to hide me.

We were inseparable; we didn’t want to be apart for even a minute.
Especially knowing I was going to be moving to Florida,
it made it very bittersweet and made us want to spend the time together even more.

I still at that point planned on going to college,
I just figured I would see him on vacation time and come back.

We were already a known thing in our own hearts,
so I knew it wouldn’t be the last of when I would see him.

But when I did go to Florida, I didn’t expect how homesick I would be,
and I really didn’t expect how much I would miss him.

And when I did get to Florida, I didn’t start school right away like I expected.
My father found out tuition for out-of-state was really expensive,
and if I lived there for six months, then the tuition was heavily discounted.

So, I got a job to wait until it was time to go to school.

Thinking back, had my father gone ahead and paid for tuition for out-of-state,
I would’ve been in college and I wouldn’t have come back.

I would’ve taken that commitment seriously because of how much I valued education.

But anyway, that’s not how it worked out.

I got a job at an office as a file clerk,
and all I could do was think about Mike.

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​Previous Story Part 64: One Tiny Act of Kindness

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And so adult life was almost beginning.
​
When I look back at this time in my life, I realize how trauma can get memories a little tangled up. At the end of my last story, I mentioned that my mom had talked me into coming to live with her in Virginia. In reality, it wasn't a long-term move; it was just a temporary stay for a couple of weeks before I was supposed to head off to college.

My real destination was Florida.
 
After working my tail off to finish high school at sixteen, I was facing a quiet, internal tug-of-war about my future. My personal dream was to go to Oral Roberts University and finish my Christian education. But my dad was an atheist, and I could tell he really didn’t want me to go there. Instead, he was incredibly gung-ho about Florida State University. FSU was a massive deal to him, and he was an avid supporter.


He talked me into it by telling me what an amazing opportunity it was, pointing out how far I could go because of my academic achievements. He promised he would fully pay for it—and deep down, I knew he wouldn't pay a single dime for Oral Roberts.

There was a part of me that just wanted to make my father proud. FSU felt familiar, and there was a little sense of safety in that compared to stepping into the complete unknown. So, I decided to just get happy about it.

Before that next chapter started, I headed to Virginia. There was an element of real excitement about getting to see my mom.

The apartment was beautiful, and she was so proud of it. She had cleaned up her life; she still drank, but the constant partying and chaotic people flowing in and out of the house were gone. For the first time, she just let me relax. She told me she knew I needed it after working so hard and everything I had just been through.

I was just so happy to be near her. I don't care what happens in life, you still need your mother’s love. It felt so good to have her approval and to feel like she was proud of me. It felt a little weird when she took me to a professional studio to get pictures taken with my cap, gown, and academic awards displayed in the background, but I was proud of those achievements too. Making her happy made me happy.

But it was a complicated kind of happy. When I was just a young girl, I remember sneaking up after going to bed. I crept down the hall to listen to the TV, and instead, I heard my mother telling my father that she hated me and wished I had never been born.

I didn’t even know what to do. I can just remember standing there, pressing myself up against the wall, being afraid to be seen. I can remember feeling unwanted. Then I quietly went back to my bed and just cried. I confronted my mother about it in my teens, and she completely denied it. Later, in my late twenties, she finally admitted she said it, but she didn’t really even apologize—she just blamed it on me and said I had been a terrible kid that day.

Yet, sitting there at sixteen by that swimming pool in Virginia, I still just needed my mother. I wanted to give our relationship a chance to heal before I left for college. That was my mindset.

For probably the first time in my entire life, I didn't have to go to work, I didn't have to go to school, and I didn't have to do anything but rest.

There was relaxation for my body, my soul, and my mind, and I was really enjoying it. I would just lay out by the pool or in the yard reading my books and soaking up the sun.

I stayed out there so much that I got a deep, dark suntan—so dark that when I finally did get to Florida, someone actually asked me what nationality I was!

There was no drama. My mom was sweet, and I really liked her boyfriend, Terry. He eventually became her husband, but my trauma mixes it up and I can’t actually remember when they got married. I was actually pretty sad to think of this little peaceful bubble ending.

But then my mother’s birthday rolled around on July 18th.

Pretty much every weekend, she did go to the bars with Terry. I never went with them. They both knew I didn’t like to drink—it was kind of obvious since I had just graduated from a Christian school. I had chosen the path of my life. But her birthday was different. They invited me to come celebrate, and I felt it would be rude not to, so I went.

The atmosphere was very festive, and the band Terry worked with was really good. Then, my mom talked me into taking a drink. Just one, she said, to celebrate. So I did. And then another, because it felt good. And then that obviously felt good, so I drank another. I honestly don’t remember how many I had, but I got drunk.

That’s when I met my husband. He was a sailor, sitting with his friend at the end of the bar. I moseyed on over and started talking to them. Honestly, I was actually flirting a little bit, but he was like so shy. His friend kept hitting on me, but I kept trying to avoid that interaction and kept trying to spark up a conversation with the person who would become my husband.

After all that rest and relaxation, stepping into that party environment, I was actually feeling really good. Part of me wished I wasn't drunk, but it was kind of a magical night.

We ended up going for a walk on the beach. It was so peaceful.

The breeze was blowing, the smell of salt air was thick, and we were walking barefoot in the sand. I remember looking down and seeing a little starfish stranded in the sand. I started flicking it over with my toe, and I just kept flicking it until I got it all the way back into the water.

I was so happy that I saved it, and I felt so carefree. He laughed, and it felt so good to be noticed for just being a happy soul. I was just happy.

I found it easy to be myself around him. It is almost painful to think back to that moment now because of what happened later on my wedding night, and what would happen for years to come.

I had no idea how much of my own soul was actually going to be stripped away. But at that time, on that beach, it was almost like I was celebrated and appreciated a little bit.
Like I was finally seen, and he liked me.

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Previous story, Part 63: The Bathtoom Floor and Aunt Harriet
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Inspired by Part 64, watch this Spirit Flow painting come to life beneath a moonlit Caribbean sky,
celebrating kindness, hope, compassion,
and the joy found
in caring for even the smallest of God’s creations.

​🤎

Through all of it, I still kept my grades up. I’ve always loved school—probably because it was my only escape. I was so torn. I still talked to God, and I still prayed, but I was still hanging around inappropriate places for a girl my age because I was surrounded by older women. At that age, getting drunk in bars or frat houses or "happy hours" felt like a little bit of fun at first. But it wasn't fun for long. It was very empty.

I still wasn’t healed from the fact that our mother had abandoned us. I wasn’t healed from what happened with my dad. I wasn’t healed from losing my younger siblings. And I deeply missed my old church family from my hometown; I lacked a wholesome group of people to turn to for support.

My mom just went to work and partied. Work and party.
God, I needed somebody.

To add a whole other level of heartbreak, I had broken up with my boyfriend. He would actually come to that college town to party because it was somewhat close to our hometown, and he’d stop in to see me. It actually made things worse because, to be honest, he wasn't really there to see me. He was there for another reason.

I felt exactly like I did back at my old house with my mom—all the drugs, the chaotic people coming in and out. It was the exact same environment, just a different town. I didn't have my local church nearby, I had nobody checking on me, and I was floundering.

I was so heavy-hearted I can’t even put it into words. One night, I was counting up my tip money, knowing I didn't have anywhere near enough to move out. Not knowing what to do, I went into the bathroom—the only place in the entire trailer where you could get an ounce of privacy. I shut the door, fell out on the floor, and just cried.

I told God, "I don’t know what to do. I can’t live like this. Help me."

Right then, the most amazing peace settled over me. I can’t even explain it, but I felt the literal presence of God. I suddenly felt so still. And clear as day, I heard a prompt in my heart: Call your Aunt Harriet.

Aunt Harriet was one of my mom's God-fearing Christian sisters. In fact, she was the very one who had traveled to find me and tell me my mom had left us the first time. I called her right away and asked if I could move in with her. She didn’t hesitate for a single second. She said yes.

My dad started sending some extra money so I could attend a private Christian school where Aunt Harriet worked as a teacher. From that exact moment forward, my life dramatically changed for the better. I honestly don’t know where I would be today if I hadn't stopped and turned to God for guidance on that bathroom floor.

Living with Aunt Harriet was incredibly therapeutic. She had schedules. She cooked real dinners, packed our lunches, and gave us snacks. For the first time in a long time, life felt normal.

I threw myself entirely into my schoolwork. I worked so hard and studied so constantly that I managed to completely finish high school while I was 16 years old. I turned 17 shortly after. I just wanted To be able to say that I finished high school at 16. 🤣
.
It was a school where you could go at your own pace, and I ran with it. In fact, I studied so much that the pastor eventually had to come into the room and force me to take breaks because I would try to stay inside between classes just to study more.

Because Aunt Harriet lived in my hometown, I was finally back around my old friends. I have to tell you, I had some really good friends who deeply respected the fact that I didn't party and didn't want that lifestyle.

They are still my friends to this day! We would hang out, and they never tried to talk me into doing anything wild. One friend in particular, Patsy, actually helped me study and would just hang around with me and do nothing. She was the absolute best friend ever.

I’d like to say a little bit here about religion—because religion is not God, and it is definitely not the love of God. As much as I appreciated going to that Christian school, it was a very legalistic Baptist school.

The guys had to have their hair cut above their ears, and the girls were strictly forced to wear skirts or culottes. I had to get a whole new wardrobe because mostly I just wore jeans and t-shirts.

We weren’t allowed to dance, so there was no prom—just a year-end awards ceremony.

I'll brag on myself a little bit here because I truly worked my tail off:
I won every single academic award there was.p, except one.

The only one I didn't get was the Pastor's Award for an outstanding student. The pastor actually pulled me to the side and told me, "Pam, you completely deserved this award. But this other girl worked so hard reading all these extra books just to be able to graduate at the deadline, so I gave it to her."
I didn't care at all; I really liked her and thought she deserved it, but it was incredibly nice of him to tell me that.

But looking back, I realize I had thrown myself into school strictly to escape my trauma. And I have to say this about the Christians in that place: they didn’t really reach out with love. It was more about making sure you conformed to an outward look.

I just want to say to any Christians reading this out there: you need to be loving people, not worrying about what they look like on the outside. The Holy Ghost will handle what needs to be handled in a person's heart.

Young people just need love. And this modern generation has it a whole lot harder than the generation I grew up in. God help us.

After all of that safety and healing at Aunt Harriet's... I guess I still hadn’t learned my lesson good enough. Because right after I graduated, my mom managed to talk me into coming to live with her again. She had moved to Virginia.
You can only imagine how that went.
 
I appreciate you reading my stories. I share them to show God is faithfully with you wherever you are. Even when we drift away, He never does. His love is always with you. 

He loves you.

🤎

Prior Story Here
Part 62: The Scenic Route and the Ditch

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Enjoy this YouTube shorts video reveal of woman praising God in the storm
​and the Peace with the Lion of Judah after the storm. God is good! 

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​As I painted this Lion of Judah, my heart wasn’t simply thinking about a holiday.
It was praying.

I prayed that God would bless America
with His wisdom, His peace, and His hope.

But I also prayed for every nation
represented by the people who visit this website.

Over the past months, I’ve watched friends
from Kenya, India, Indonesia, the Philippines, South Africa, Europe,
and many other places become part of this journey.

So while this painting was inspired by America’s Independence Day,
my prayer reaches far beyond our borders.

May God’s peace, hope, and love reach every heart.

​God bless America.
And God bless you wherever you’re reading this from.
— Pam Herrick


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Enjoy this powerful Lion Of Judah video art in prayer over the nations,
woven in with the beloved flag of the United Staes of America. 
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​
Then came the parties. My mom was partying, my aunt was partying. I started going out with my aunt to different places, and it all just pulled me further away from God. It did absolutely nothing for my pain; I was still just deeply hurt.

We were living in a college town, and since we were hitting all these parties, guys were coming onto me all the time. I feel weird saying this in this story now, but I was only 15 years old. I had older men hitting on me and trying to grope me. It was a lot to navigate.

One night at a party, my aunt left with some guy. I was stuck there. Another guy offered me a ride home; he had been playing the guitar and singing, and he seemed really nice, so I said yes. On the way back, I realized we missed a turn and said, "Hey, this is the way to my house."

He just looked at me and said, "Well, I want to take the scenic route. I want to show you something."
He parked his van beside a lake. It was actually really beautiful, and at first, he started to kiss me. That was alright, I guess, but I was really too young for all that mess and I wasn’t very good with boundaries yet. But then he started getting carried away. I started saying no, and the next thing I knew, he was trying to rape me. Honestly, it’s a good thing he was drunk. He was big and strong, but because he was clumsy, I managed to escape the van.

I started running down the dark road. I didn’t even know where I was. I was terrified. Suddenly, I saw headlights coming. I can still feel my heart pounding just thinking about it, because I thought, Oh my God, he’s coming to get me. I dove straight down into the ditch to hide. As the car passed by, I saw it wasn't his van, so I jumped up and started running after it, waving my arms.

It was an elderly Black man. He stopped, looked at me, and said, "Oh my God, are you okay?" I told him what happened, and he safely took me home. I really love that man for that night.

But the wildness didn't stop. Other nights, it seemed like all anyone wanted to do was go out. I was trapped in a life I didn’t want, in deep pain, with nobody being a positive influence. My mom's friend had officially moved into the trailer—it was a total mess. Sometimes a guy friend from school would come over to visit; there was nothing romantic there, he was just a friend, but he felt so sorry for me. He actually told me, "My mom said you can come live with us." I felt too weird about it, so I didn't do it.

So the partying went on. I would go to the college town and drink sometimes too—I didn't do drugs, but I would drink to escape. I remember walking from one fraternity house to another and getting pinned up against a wall by two guys. I was fighting to get away from them, and they were just laughing at me. I remember thinking, Oh my God, what is going to happen to me? I finally broke free and ran off to somewhere, I don't even remember where. I just remember escaping.

I was going to school during the day, eating my only real meal when I first got to work, and then coming home to a trailer where you never knew what you were going to find. Strange guys were constantly coming in and out. To make it worse, my brother was mean to me there too. Looking back now, I know he hated me being there because he was just as messed up, angry, and upset as I was. We had absolutely no stability.

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​Previous Story, Part 61: The missing pieces - Churchland and My Deepest Trauma
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Lion of Judah shorts video below. I hope you can see yourself comforted in this image, safe in the presence of the one Who loves you! By the way, I just created my art business card on it at the end. I’m proud of all the work and thankful God is using it to spread His love! Here is link to my Facebook post for my card. HE’S GOT YOU! Please share with anyone, you know that might need the encouragement or enjoy the art. Thank you so much. Blessings! 💛

You know, I realized I completely forgot some major things that happened before we went back to North Carolina where my mother eventually left us, and before I finally landed at my father's house in Florida. I kept thinking when I was telling these stories that something was missing. Almost all of my siblings have the hardest time putting the pieces of our timelines together. Except for my older brother—he actually has a perfect, uncanny memory. But for the rest of us, we usually have to count things by the houses we lived in—like when we were in the White House, or when we were in the greenhouse—because we can remember the structures, but the towns and the exact ages get blurred by the trauma.

I am actually the oldest female. My oldest younger sister is 8 years younger than me. The next sister is 10 years younger, and my little brother is 12 years younger. So when I was 15 years old, you can do the math on how old they were: they were only 7, 5, and 3 years old.

I had looked after them since I was only 8 years old. My mother and stepfather actually left me overnight to babysit my oldest younger sister when she was just an infant—and not only her, but their friend's two-year-old, too! They left me completely alone, and they paid me with candy bars when they got back. I can still remember my mom saying how responsible I was, which actually made me feel a little bit proud at the time, but a whole lot was being put on my plate. I can still remember my baby sister crying in the night, and I would be the one to go in, get her out of the crib, and walk her up and down the hall to comfort her until she stopped crying.

When I left off at age 15 in my story, my mom actually decided to get back with my stepfather for a brief time, and we moved to a town called Churchland, in Virginia.

This is the town where my running actually started. I began running just to deal with the heavy emotions of everything—but I wasn’t running alone. I ran with my Afghan hound, Sage. I loved that dog so much; he was my friend. While everything else was spinning out of control, we would run together. Outside of those runs, I walked to school as well there because I was too shy to get on the school bus. I absolutely hated being there. I didn’t know a single soul. At the time, I was still with my boyfriend, so I had to leave him behind, and that hurt deeply. I didn't have my driver's license yet, so I had to completely depend on other people just to take me to see him. He still lived in North Carolina so he was a whole state away. 

We weren't in Churchland for very long, but while we were there, things got incredibly bad.
My boyfriend cheated on me. One of my friends told me about it, and I cried so much—I cried for a whole day nonstop, just unable to stop the tears. And then, I had a miscarriage. I didn’t even know I was pregnant. I went to the bathroom because my stomach was hurting so badly, and there was a lot of blood. A very small fetus came out. Not fully formed, but recognizable.

I was entirely devastated. I cried even more, and my whole body just shook. It was just horrible.
One of my aunts happened to stop by—the very one whose trailer I went to live in later on. She walked in and said, "Oh my God, what happened?" I told her, and she tried her best to comfort me, but she was only there for a little bit before she had to leave.

The next day, I was still really upset. My mom was getting ready to go to work, and I tried to tell her what had happened. I was desperately needing some comfort, some love. She just ignored me, kept putting on her makeup, and brushed it off. She told me it was probably just a blood clot.
I said, "No, Mom, I saw it."

She just tried to tell me no, it wasn't. She gave me no comfort whatsoever. She just went on about her business and left, and I went back to my bedroom and just cried with my dog.

There was a lot more that went on there, but that was my most tragic memory from Churchland.
After that, my mom decided to leave my stepfather again and go back to her boyfriend in a completely different town in North Carolina.

The whole family went. Once again I found myself in a town where I didn’t know anybody. It was from that house in that new town—where my mom eventually just vanished and left us. While we were there, I did manage to get my driver's license, and my ex-boyfriend started coming to see me again. Looking back, it was kind of stupid of me to take him back, but I really loved him.

I realized I hadn't told you where the running and all those heavy emotions actually started. There were a couple of towns and some really bad things in the middle of the timeline that left me in even more of a mess by the time I landed at my father's house in Florida in part 60. I was a teenager in a massive crisis, and I truly needed comfort.

Honestly, looking back, there was no one really ever there for me. Except Jesus.
🦁

Little did I know my life was about to get worse. 

Previous Story, Part 60 :  My Mom Just Left Us

I know this story was heavy. But it shows God was there all along, even in the dark places. Especially the dark places. I was learning to turn to Him more and more.
If you would like to follow my continuing book,
you can find new stories as I write them,
here: The Girl Who Chased Horses
For encouraging art visit my gallery here : Spirit Flow Prophetic Art Gallery
Blessings,
Pam

​I created the art in the video below just for my story. It is the Lion of Judah in the sky and my beloved dog, Sage, running over the bridge. 

🤎