A homegrown spine

I let a coward destroy me.

Naturally, he did not have it in him to follow through and properly finish the job. So, I had to crawl with my heaving heart to the nearest cliff and trust the fall would rebuild me.

This usually does the trick, but the years have only made these bones more stubborn. Indeed, when I reached the rocks beneath, instead of relief, all I found was a mirror showing me unscathed.

I rolled my eyes, then watched them drown in a bitter cocktail of tears and sweat. Regardless, I got up and walked on in the search of solutions.

I found a rock as heavy as I could carry and successfully took matters into my own hands. I already knew what I was supposed to do:

• Strip off this bruised skin and stretch it out as far as my arms can reach;
• Grind these sad bones to a fine powder now that they have been charred by hollow love;
• Mix that pigment into the oil that will soon cover up this brand-new canvas.

I will finish what you started.

I will keep your promises and refute your odd assertions.

I will move the imaginary mountains you erected in my head, and it will cost me nothing.

We both know I was the only one with the backbone to begin with. Now, allow me to inspire you one last time.

Keep your eyes on me as I tear it all down and let the rubble shatter me.

Watch me reclaim the power you thought you had contained, revive the light you drained from my eyes.

Let me show you how to grow a spine even as I start from ashes.

Maybe you will get there someday too.

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Роза Люксембург

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‘Beauty from Ashes — A Testimony’ by Laurie Stonesifer

The Beginning of My Story

As a firstborn, I carried a lot. I was strong-willed, hard-working, and fun-loving. I was always interested in boys, craving a deep relationship. I met someone at youth group — a few years older, a “bad boy” type. I got pregnant the first time I was ever with him. I was 16.

When I told my mom, she didn’t believe me at first. We took a few more tests, and then came the crushing realization — it was true. That moment marked the beginning of a painful path, full of secrecy and shame.

I went to a Christian school. We were a first-generation Christian family. We had a light to shine, an example to set. So I was told, “You must not tell anyone. You must finish the school year without anyone knowing, or you’ll be expelled.” As the oldest child, I felt I was expected to protect my younger siblings’ reputations.

I endured morning sickness, insecurity, and white lies, somehow making it through the spring semester of my junior year. I was the youngest in my class. I confided in one or two trusted friends but otherwise stayed silent. My parents didn’t share what was happening with anyone.

My parents decided no one could find out about this — not even my younger siblings. My church and extended relatives didn’t know I was pregnant. Even to this day, many of my extended relatives do not know what I went through.

Choosing Adoption

I had always wanted to be a mom. I loved babies and kids and hoped to become a teacher one day. I worked in daycares and at a YMCA in high school — I found so much joy in being with children. I could never imagine aborting my baby. Honestly, it never crossed my mind. I knew I was carrying a precious life.

The boy I was with was a mess — he used me, cheated on me, and had no future with me. I wanted the best for my baby. My parents made it clear they wouldn’t support me in keeping the baby, and I knew he wouldn’t either. I couldn’t raise this child alone.

Adoption seemed like the best option. We went to an adoption agency in Chicagoland. A counselor spoke with me about adoption and showed me catalogs of couples who were ready and waiting. I chose a Christian couple who were waiting to have a child — he was a minister, and they had served as missionaries. We agreed to an open adoption and even planned to participate in a “Hike for Life” together after the baby was born.

Hidden and Held

I finished the school year in May; my baby was due in January. When my belly started to show, my parents decided I should live in a foster home. I went along with the plan — still keeping the secret.

I moved in with a homeschooling foster family on a farm. They had no TV and lived simply. They were amazing. I admired their deep faith and their love for fostering teen moms. I homeschooled my senior year, helped on the farm, and shed many tears with my foster mom and her oldest daughter.

During this time, I questioned everything — my faith, my relationships, even God. I felt alone, yet strangely peaceful. For the first time, I had to decide whether I would follow Christ on my own — not because it was expected, but because I believed in Him.

Jesus met me there.

It was there that Jesus became truly mine. Through my tears and sorrow, He gave me strength to do the most painful, unimaginable thing I’ve ever done: Give up my baby. My foster parents were incredibly supportive. They even offered to care for the baby longer if I needed more time to decide. I believed giving her up was God’s plan. I was certain He would carry me through the heartbreak. He has — and He continues — to show up for me.

The Birth and the Goodbye

She came two weeks before Christmas. It happened so fast I didn’t need an epidural — she was crowning as I entered the hospital. She was perfect. Beautiful. Dark-haired.

I was surrounded by compassionate nurses who prayed with me and cried with me. One nurse’s name was Angel — no coincidence.

I spent every possible moment with my baby. We bonded deeply. It was the most beautiful, bittersweet forty-eight hours of my life. I absolutely knew God wanted me to give this baby up for adoption. I had to trust Him. It was terrifying — the pain was indescribable, knowing I wouldn’t be able to keep her.

On adoption day, I was supposed to hand her over to her adoptive parents at a ceremony. But I couldn’t do it. I was wrecked.

My social worker and I drove through a fast-food line before the ceremony, and I sobbed uncontrollably. I told the social worker I couldn’t go through with the handoff. So instead, I said goodbye and placed her in her car seat for the social worker to take to her adoptive parents.

Life After Loss

The adoptive parents did adopt her that day. Five months later, we met again for the Hike for Life. They had moved back to the U.S., and he was now a pastor in the Chicagoland area.

I received letters and photos for two or three years. When I later asked to meet her, they said she wasn’t ready. I respected that. I wanted what was best for her.

I love her with my whole heart, and I never wanted to cause her pain.

The Waiting Continues

My story hasn’t ended the way I hoped — not yet. It’s been 33 years of waiting to meet her. She hasn’t been ready to meet me yet. She says she doesn’t want to open that door.

But through the tears, the shame, the fears, and the years — God has been faithful.

Even though I haven’t had the opportunity to meet my firstborn yet, God has blessed me with six beautiful children and even miraculously saved one of our daughters from cancer. He continues to prune me, humble me, and stretch me — and hopefully use my story to help someone else.

He truly can make beauty from ashes. He gives sustaining grace in the trials and strength in the waiting.

I’ve wrestled with deep shame for many years. But shame is not from God. I believe I’ve wasted opportunities to share the gospel because of my fear and shame.

The enemy is a liar — a thief who wants you to miss God’s goodness. He whispers lies to keep you stuck. But over and over, the Lord has shown me His faithfulness, His grace, His mercy, His kindness, and His love. Through trials, He has taught me to trust Him and to depend on His strength.

I want to share my story because it is really His story.

You may not know how your story ends — just like I don’t. But I promise you: if you put your trust in Him, it will be a beautiful story.

A Final Word

“The enemy wants you stuck in your feelings.

Because if he can keep you in your feelings,
he can keep you out of your purpose.

He’ll stir up offense.
He’ll magnify fear.
He’ll push insecurity.

Emotions cloud vision, and clouded vision delays obedience.

You weren’t called to be led by your feelings.
You were called to be led by the Holy Spirit.” — Author unknown

Laurie Stonesifer is blessed to be married to her wonderful husband, Michael, for 23 years. She is a mother to six and a devoted teacher; she keeps faith and family at the center of her life. She holds a Master’s degree in Education and currently teaches history to middle and high school students. She has enjoyed teaching in public schools, Christian schools, and homeschooling her own children.

Laurie spends much of her time in the everyday rhythms of family life. She lives in Northeast Florida, where she enjoys the beach, running, serving in her church, snacking on popcorn, and drinking coffee. She is learning to let go of people-pleasing and to lean more fully on God’s grace, trusting in His faithfulness through every season.

Are you searching for God?

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Along the coast, under beautiful skies!

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Feeling lost in knowledge…

https://cynnisblog.wordpress.com/2026/04/13/feeling-lost-in-knowledge/