My Story
Hi, my name is Yeni, and this is the story of how Jesus Found Me — when I didn’t even know I was lost.
I am first generation Mexican American; we moved to the US a couple of weeks before my 9th birthday.
As most Mexicans, I grew up Catholic which meant that my identity and traditions revolved around Catholic rituals and customs. This didn’t necessarily mean that we attended church every Sunday or that we read the Bible, as a matter of fact I do not remember my parents ever opening the Scriptures. What this did mean is that we went to church whenever we made it, but we would be there for: Ash Wednesday; Palm Sunday; Resurrection Sunday; the Day of the Virgen de Guadalupe; and Christmas.
As part of the traditions, there was no question about whether I would Baptist my children; they were both Baptized before their first birthday. I also got married in the Catholic Church, even though my husband considered himself part of the Mormon Church at that time.
However, my connection with the Catholic Church ended after an eye-opening remark my child made when leaving the Church office. My daughter was of age to complete her 2nd year of preparation for her confirmation, so we went to enroll her. But the lady there refused to enroll her unless I committed to having my daughter do 2 back-to-back years of preparation, although she had already completed the first one. I did not see why we had to pay another enrollment fee for an extra year when she had already completed it. As we stepped outside, my 12 year old at that time looked at me with a serious and confused face and said, “Mom, it feels like we were just in a business office—not a church.” And she was right. That moment stayed with me. And I walked away.
Looking back, however, I know realize that there was no intimate relationship with God, even though I considered myself Catholic. And in that moment at the Church office, it was painfully clear — the presence of God was not there.
The Years that Followed
For the next ten years, I tried to live life on my own.
Getting through the remaining 4 years of higher education. Getting licensed as a clinical social worker. Raising two kids; my oldest from a previous relationship, and my son with my husband. Holding it all together while my husband served in the military, physically distant—and when he came home, emotionally distant too. Dealing with marital issues that were deep-rooted to neither of us seeing what a healthy marriage needed to look like. Feeling the burden of carrying it all… on my own.
And eventually, I started questioning whether God was ever even real.
After all—it was me who got me through. Or so I thought.
How God Found Me
It started in a way I never expected: through meditation.
As a therapist, I had begun practicing meditation more seriously — ,something I taught my clients—but I wasn’t just seeking peace.
On top of the marital issues, we were also struggling financially.
My husband was preparing to leave the military after nearly 17 years of service, and with that came the end of a stable income.
So, after reading and watching the documentary for “The Secret,” I turned to the law of attraction. My goal was to “control my thoughts” so that I could manifest what we needed.
As I dove deeper into those teachings, I came across a meditation described as “mind control.” I started practicing it regularly and wanting to learn more because I thought “this was the answer.” I remember one of the recording speaking of connecting with angels—and that’s where the spiritual door opened.
One recording introduced the idea of connecting with angels through a pendulum, and I followed it. At the time, it felt like guidance. I began asking questions, holding the pendulum, and waiting for a response.
But something unexpected began to happen.
The more I practiced, the more my questions became spiritual. And gradually, the “angel” I thought I was speaking to was no longer the center.
I began reaching for God.
Over time, God gently led me out of mysticism and into relationship.
I no longer needed a pendulum, a tool, or a ritual. I just needed prayer.
My “meditation” slowly transformed into meditative prayer—still, silent moments where I would open my heart and wait for Him.
He began speaking through signs, small ones at first. A word. A moment. A Scripture. A whisper in the quiet.
And eventually—He led me to His Word.
Now, my connection with Him is no longer dependent on signs or tools.
It’s built on His presence:
The Word speaks to me directly.
Worship music brings peace I can’t explain.
In the middle of therapy sessions, I’ll sometimes pause and say, “Jesus, help me,” and He answers.
Sometimes I just close my eyes, picture Jesus, and whisper, “Amen.”
That is my connection with Him now. Simple. Real. Constant.
God didn’t condemn me for how I was searching—He just met me there and slowly showed me the way.
He Found Me Just In Time
Looking back now, I see why God drew me close to Him; I feel that He “fished me out of this world” at the right time.
As I was practicing meditative prayer, learning to connect with Him, I was also learning that I was NOT alone! This was crucial to deal with what was up ahead…
My husband’s mental health began to spiral as it got closer and closer to his military separation. It spiraled to the point that he was medically separated from mental health issues.
At the same time, my now adult daughter was struggling with her personal life. As a parent, I felt responsible for her struggles, “if only I would have done this or the other, or not done this or that, maybe she would not have as such a hard time as she is having?”
Everything came to a boiling point during one of my husband’s mental health episodes he was hospitalized. At the same time, there was a huge argument at home that led to my daughter storming out of my life and taking her toddler son with her.
On one side I had to support my husband, not get into any arguments to avoid him spiraling again. On the other side, my daughter was living what looked like her rock bottom and would not speak to me. The pain was not just that my husband was not there for me or that my daughter was not talking to me, but rather that I could not do anything for either of them.
This is when I was reminded to invite God to help them. And Help Me deal with my own pain.
My Daughter:
After the falling out with my daughter, I would spend time after time in meditative prayer. Though the thoughts “she will never speak to you again, your grandson will never get to know you. Why would it be any different for you when you’ve heard of clients/people never patching things up with their kids after a huge falling out? would creep in often, but I kept holding onto to God.
I would repeat over and over, “Why would God want to keep a mother apart from her daughter and grandkids? No, He would not. I know that He will bring my daughter back.” I would remind myself to trust in God, but it was so hard!
So I would ask for signs, any signs and He would deliver. The more signs He gave me, the more confident I felt that one day soon my daughter would come back into my life. And…. she did!
About 3 months after the incident, she started talking to me — she felt distant with me, but at least she was making an effort.
While my daughter was not speaking to me, I didn’t just pray for her heart — I prayed for my grandson too.
He had recently been diagnosed with Autism and was non-verbal. I remember crying out to God, “Lord, please heal him. Let my daughter be able to hear her son say ‘Mami’ one day.” With prayer, therapy, and time, my grandson started speaking. Now he will not stop talking — I love his little voice!
And when they started coming around again, something incredible begin unfolding. My grandson would love it when he saw me pray before meals, which is not something my daughter had seen before. He would watch what I was doing and engage with what I was saying in prayer. At one point my daughter shared with me that my grandson would ask her to pray like grandma before he ate his meal.
My daughter was still guarded, but she noticed something was different. At first I think she wondered if this new found spirituality of mine was just a phase — fake or temporary.
Overtime, however, she slowly started noticing my relationship with God was real. She saw the peace, the love, the surrender… and I believe she started trusting again.
Today, my daughter and I are more connected than we have ever been — not just in relationship but in how we talk about purpose, healing, and faith. God didn’t just restore us... He transformed the foundation we stand on.
My Son:
While I was dealing with my daughter and husband, my teenage son would try to not give me any grief because he could see the pain I was in. He was getting used to seeing me outside in meditative prayer, trying to find peace in the middle of the chaos.
He didn’t say much, but I could see the questions in his eyes — unsure of how all this “spiritual stuff" had become part of our life.
But when I said, “we’re going to church,” he was confused. The first time he didn’t fuss about it, but when the second Sunday came, he protested saying “we believe in God but we’re not church goers.”
It took a while for him to accept that Church was a new thing that was part of “my spiritual journey.” Emphasis on “mine” because he could not understand what the big deal was.
Over time, he got used to the idea that every Sunday we go to Church, to worship in a congregation and listen to the Word of God. But there is still something missing, my son seeing that the purpose of life is God.
All I can do is pray over him, for him, and talk to him about why it is important to prioritize God in everything we do.
I’ve planted the seed, now it is God’s turn to water it.
I have trust that God will lead my son to Him.
That my son will one day see that nothing in this life is worth going through alone.
My Husband:
My husband’s journey was different — more internal, quieter. And harder to talk about.
I won’t share the details of his mental health battle because that is his testimony to tell. But I will say this: God has been faithful.
In the moments when I felt helpless, unable to fix anything, I learned to surrender to him and our marriage to God —fully.
Without him knowing, I would not only pray for him, but I would anoint his space, his side of the bed, his pictures, his study area. I would cry alone and say, "God, you love him more than I do. Help him. And if he is not meant to be with me, take him from me. But he needs you, our marriage needs you.”
Slowly, God began to restore him too. There are still hard days, but now we face them with faith, not fear.
Our marriage is not the same — it is being renewed, day by day. And our Foundation is Jesus.
God is now at the center of our marriage and our home.
God did not just rescue me for me; He rescue me for them.
And it all began when He Found Me.
Where I am Now…
It’s been three years since God began pulling me back to Him—and I’m still learning, still growing, still surrendering every day.
This walk with Him has not been about perfection. It’s been about obedience, refining, and a deep, healing relationship.
One of the most sacred moments in this journey happened a little over a year ago when I followed His prompting to be water baptized.
It was something I never thought I’d do again.
But it was clear: God was asking me to declare publicly what He had already done privately—He made me new.
Since then, I’ve felt Him continue to guide me in unexpected ways:
He’s teaching me HOW to follow Him
He’s shown me that my story is not just for me—it’s meant to be shared.
He’s teaching me how to minister gently, especially to those who have been hurt by religion but are hungry for truth.
He’s calling me to be bold in my faith—but tender in my approach.
He’s shaping how I show up for my clients, not just as a therapist—but as someone who carries His peace.
He’s giving me a vision for this site—for it to become a place where others can explore faith, healing, and honest questions without fear.
Where He Is Leading Me…
I don’t have it all figured out. But I know He’s asking me to:
Be a vessel.
Share my testimony.
Make space for others to be seen and heard.
Point hearts toward Jesus—not through pressure, but through presence.
Keep growing in the Word, in prayer, and in surrender.
If you’re reading this and feel a stirring—maybe even a little resistance—that’s okay.
I’ve learned that resistance often means the Spirit is already near.
And just like He did with me…
Maybe He’s already reaching for you.