Mis·fit (noun) — a person who is not accepted by a particular group of people, especially because their behavior or their ideas are very different.
That word used to sting.
It followed me like a shadow—misfit.
Unwanted. Unworthy. Unwelcome.
I wore it like a name tag no one could see, but I felt it in every room I entered.
So I ran.
I ran to anything that promised acceptance—drugs, men, parties, danger.
One decision after another, and soon I found myself completely lost:
homeless on the streets of Jacksonville, Florida, trapped in prostitution, and arrested 16 times before I ever turned the page to hope.
By 2005, I was done. Done fighting, done pretending. I attempted to end my life.
But God—rich in mercy—wasn’t done with me.
In 2007, I rededicated my life to the Lord. It was raw, real, and messy.
He met me in the rubble and began rebuilding, piece by piece.
Fitness became my doorway to discipline. By 2009, I was a certified personal trainer and by 2014, I began competing in body building.
But somewhere along that journey, I realized: you can have a strong body and still carry a broken spirit.
Physical transformation means nothing without spiritual renewal.
That’s when God planted the vision for Misfits Mission—"I used to be a misfit, but now I'm miss fit."
Although it didn’t begin with a house.
It began with a heart—a burden to reach women the world had counted out.
Women marked by incarceration, addiction, abuse, and silence.
Women carrying heavy pasts and hollow identities, just trying to survive.
I knew that survival wasn’t enough. I knew there was more.
So we started where we were—one conversation, one workout, one woman at a time.
And then came The Hiding Place.
Inspired by the courage of Corrie ten Boom—a woman who hid Jewish refugees in her home during the Holocaust and paid the price with her freedom—The Hiding Place was born.
Corrie believed that “there is no pit so deep that God’s love is not deeper still.”
That belief is now the backbone of everything we do.
Our Hiding Place is a sanctuary where women step of prison and into freedom- where they shed the old soundtrack of shame, worthlessness, and trauma—and rise into a new song of peace, purity, and purpose through the Father's love.
Because when Jesus steps in, the old soundtrack ends—and a new one begins.
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