In MY VICTORY VOYAGE I’m sharing the trials I’ve faced and how God’s faithfulness carried me through. Join me on the 2nd Friday of each month in 2025 as we reflect on His restoration and grace.
“You are the God who sees me.” – Genesis 16:13
The Invisible Middle Child
I was the healthy one.
Sandwiched between an older brother with cerebral palsy and a younger sister with her own challenges, I learned early that being “okay” often meant being overlooked. While the spotlight of care and concern stayed focused on my siblings, I found companionship in imaginary friends—my safe place to feel seen, heard, and known.
I’m not sure when it was, but one day in late 1963 or 1964, Momma and Daddy packed up all my brother’s things: his clothes, crib, and small chest of drawers. They loaded them into a trailer hitched to Daddy’s truck, then gathered us kids into the back seat of a 1950s Ford oilfield crew cab truck he had lovingly restored. We made the long drive from our dusty West Texas town to a small ranching community near Fort Worth.
We pulled up to a traditional red-brick house that an older woman had turned into a nursing home for children with special needs. Even with cerebral palsy, my brother had grown too big for Momma to lift in and out of bed or the bath. My parents had made the heart-wrenching decision to leave Wayne there, where he could get the care, he needed.
I remember liking that place. I wanted to stay, too. It was out in the country, with a beautiful green field and grazing cows just across the dirt road. Several children in wheelchairs sat on the front porch, watching the cows. I’ve always loved cows.
None of us knew that would be the last time we’d see Wayne alive. A few months later, he was hospitalized with pneumonia and died at age 11. I was seven. After the funeral, we didn’t talk about him much anymore.
Years went by. Daddy drank more and stayed gone a lot. Momma was busy caring for my sister and me. My sister, Trina* had health and school challenges. It seemed the only way I could get any attention was by performing—through sports or music. That’s how I felt validated. When I wasn’t performing, I felt completely invisible.
Adulthood Echoes
That little girl never really left.
Even as an adult—especially as the wife of a brilliant, visionary inventor whose mind races with ideas—there are times I’ve felt like I’ve faded into the background again. It’s not due to lack of love. It’s just that I’ve spent so many years adapting to being unseen.
Yet God…
He has always seen me.
God’s Loving Gaze: The Truth That Changes Everything
Hagar, too, felt forgotten. Cast out and alone in the wilderness, she was the first in Scripture to give God a name: El Roi—”the God who sees me” (Genesis 16:13).
That name has become deeply personal to me.
I may be invisible to others at times, but I am never invisible to God.
Victory in Being Known
When the enemy whispers that I don’t matter, that I’m just background noise, I remind myself: I am seen. I am known. I am loved.
And so are you.
No matter your role—whether caregiver, peacekeeper, helper, or quiet presence in someone else’s story—your heart is fully visible to the God who made it.
Closing Encouragement
He hears your silent prayers.
He knows the weight you carry quietly.
He understands your longing to be valued and noticed—not for what you do, but for who you are.
This is your victory:
You are seen and known by the One who matters most!
*Name changed for privacy.
