My story of service began with a heart’s cry and a prayer when I was six years old. I was watching a television program that showed people living in Africa suffering from starvation. I cried, knelt, and asked God to send me to Africa as a missionary so I could help starving people. Serving others was in my lineage as my father’s grandfather was a minister, and his mother was a special education teacher beginning in the late 1920s. My mother, a volunteer through church and civic organizations beginning in the 1960s, introduced me to children with intellectual and developmental disabilities when I was seven years old. In high school, I was drawn to the students in what was called the special education class, so I volunteered in that class all three years. I was able to learn a great deal about how to listen, understand, and support students from a well-equipped, caring teacher.

When I was 15, my dad drove past a sign at a local mental health facility that showed the need for volunteers during the holidays. My dad came home and said, “We’re going to volunteer.” I believe it was unusual in the early 1970s to take your teens into any facility that helped people with a mental health diagnosis because there was so much stigma and negative press about the safety of being with such dangerous or “crazy” people. (That makes me mad even now, as I don’t use either of those words to describe people.) My dad, already a compassionate soul, had worked in various facilities as a Bell Telephone repairman, so he felt confident we could bring people some hope and joy during the holidays. Around Thanksgiving of 1973, we found ourselves talking with people and handing out treats at a holiday party in a community room at that facility. I met a lady playing the piano who introduced herself as Queen Victoria. The whole situation was intriguing.

In my senior year of high school, students were offered a community service class as an elective, and among many of the places listed was the same mental health facility I had visited with my father. I signed up and volunteered every week as much as I could from January 1975 through June, a practice I continued after my graduation. I won an award for 145 hours of volunteer service that summer. Most of the people I met while volunteering had few visitors, so I did extra things like enlisting people to help me bake treats to distribute, hopping around on Easter in an Easter Bunny suit to give out candy, and participating in a fashion show, to name a few. I also spent a lot of time meeting new people, listening to their stories, and sharing a meal or soda. Many I met had good stories of how they felt safe where they were, yet so many had sad stories of terrible reactions to new medications and loneliness from the lack of visitors. I was told by a few staff that several of the people had been subject to horrific treatments many years before, such as lobotomies, electroconvulsive therapy without proper anesthesia or muscle relaxants, and forced sterilization. All I can say is, I fell in love with the people and was fascinated by their stories. As summer was ending, I decided not to attend the college I was accepted into for nursing; instead, I applied to become an aide or attendant at that facility. This decision surprised many people, yet looking back, it was the best decision of my life.

When I started working in the 1970s, few people were treated for dual diagnosis (mental health plus substance use or mental health plus developmental disabilities), trauma, or the mind-body connection. Now, decades later, the effects of substance use, trauma, and physical health issues are taking a prominent place in care and treatment. Yes, proper diagnosis, support, and treatment are crucial for recovery, and I strongly advocate for them. Yet looking back, as the “psychology system of care” experimented, learned, and grew, it was the people I met who were undeniably strong and incredibly resilient throughout it all, carrying a gift of teaching for anyone who was willing to learn.

Beginning in 1975 and continuing through 2025, I have worked or volunteered at various mental health facilities, long-term care settings, and in childcare, and have also served many non-profit organizations both in the United States of America and overseas. I worked as an aide, nursing assistant, childcare worker, healthcare volunteer, advocate, missionary, youth leader; basically anything the job, volunteer, or service required. One of the roles opened the door for me to serve as the Co-founder and Executive Director of  Voice and Vision. Throughout all these opportunities since 1975, my favorite things remain meeting people and learning from those I work with and the people I serve.

In addition to the amazing people I have had the privilege of meeting, working alongside, or serving in the past 50 years, it is a spiritual foundation that planted a calling deep within me as a child and has been the bedrock that keeps me going. My parents ensured that my sister and I were exposed to Christianity as children, and I saw the joy of serving others as a testimony to God’s goodness. The term “higher power” is common in our field of service. For me, I submit to you my Higher Power has always been God, a loving Father; Jesus Christ, a gracious and sacrificial Savior; and Holy Spirit, the Comforter/Spirit of Truth. I made a commitment at the age of 11 through a life-changing encounter to believe in and serve Jesus Christ and others and to trust that He would lead me in my calling and destiny. When times were hard, or I needed a key on how to unlock something important to a person in front of me, it was a simple prayer to God the Father in Jesus’ name that released keys from Holy Spirit, and a breakthrough was experienced every time. Ongoing prayer, Bible verses, worship, and fellowship with other believers helped carry me through the trials and triumphs of life then and continue to do so now.

You may be asking at this point, what about being a missionary and helping starving people in Africa? My first mission trip was not in Africa. In fact, most of the 19 countries I have been to, and some many times, have a large percentage of poverty and starvation, which is heartbreaking. Finally, 40 years after praying that prayer, I made it to Africa. Prior to leaving for that trip, our small group had raised enough money to rent a large truck and to buy and fill it with sacks of rice, corn, and beans. An announcement was made in the village that food would be distributed the next day. Hundreds of people showed up. We filled smaller bags with all three items, stood in the back of the truck, and ensured every family left with a bag full of food. After all the food was distributed, a few of the local women jumped into the truck and with their hands, swept up every kernel of corn, dried bean, and grain of rice that had fallen to the floor during the distribution. I saw the need for and value of food, something I had taken for granted, in a new light. Since then, one of the causes dear to me is helping people obtain food and clean water. In this book, some of the lessons learned will be from people I met on those trips, but only as they relate to the lessons I learned about mental health and healing.

I should also mention, certainly not as an afterthought, that I married in 1979 and had five children. It was during my marriage and raising children that challenges with mental health and addictions surfaced in my own family. You will find a story about some of what I learned through that at the end of this book; namely, Tools for the Journey. Someday I may write more about that in other books. For now, I want to focus on the teachers I met who, through the price they paid, enabled me to learn lessons that have guided me throughout the past 50 years.

Ephesians 2:10, For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.

James 1:17, Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.

Colossians 3:23-24, Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters, since you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as a reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.