Unexpected Blessings Through Learning

Content Note:
This testimony includes references to sexual assault (rape), addiction, and trauma.
If this is tender territory for you, please feel free to pause or pass.

As I continue my journey of learning and growing in the Healing Touch Spiritual Ministry (HTSM) program, I still find myself caught off guard when the Lord shows up to meet me in the most personal ways.

It’s a gentle reminder that there is always more to learn—and often, more healing to unfold within me—as I prepare for this ministry.

After leaving behind the rubble of a five-year addiction to alcohol, I’ve been learning to trust God in recovery. I’ve also been learning to look with honesty and compassion at the roads that led me there, so I can make better choices moving forward. During my recovery, there were moments when I believed I had fallen too far away—too broken, too unworthy, too far gone to continue the healing path that first found me seven years ago.

But silencing those voices and trusting God is what encouraged me to begin again. Nervous, I signed up for the next class.

A Sacred Welcome Home

During the Sacred Heart Blessing, I understood more intimately how the prodigal son must have felt when he saw his father running toward him.

How could the father be waiting?

He was waiting because he knew his son would return.

In that moment, I saw my Savior running down the path to greet me. There was no disappointment on His face. No trace of judgment in His words.

“Welcome back, my beautiful daughter.”
“You made it home.”
“I am proud of you.”

Overwhelmed—and held in the arms of a stranger—I felt layers of shame and guilt fall away, as if they simply dissolved. He never asked where I had been or what I had done in my absence. It didn’t matter in that moment. He already knew. My mind cried, “How could this be?” and my heart answered, “Nothing can separate us from the love of Jesus our Savior.”

It was powerful, humbling, and healing all at once. I could see clearly that my recovery was not pulling me away from the work the Lord had called me to—it was bringing me home to it.

The Wounds Behind the Addiction

In 2008, I was raped by a massage client during a session in his home.

In 2009, I went through a painful divorce. After 23 years of marriage and three beautiful daughters, my husband shared that he was gay. I was devastated. My body felt raw—ripped open by grief, shame, and guilt.

In the years that followed, I became an alcoholic in an attempt to silence the pain from both experiences.

It’s hard to explain how deeply the legal process can harm a victim all over again. The system moves slowly. It took four years—during which I was in weekly therapy—before I finally had a hearing to tell my story to a Grand Jury. The Grand Jury indicted the man who raped me. Then came more waiting: waiting for a trial date.

A Good Friday Turning Point

During a Good Friday meditation in 2013, the Lord spoke clearly to me. He brought to mind His words from the cross:

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

He reminded me that He hung on that cross not only for me, but for the man who raped me.

God asked me to lay down the burden of waiting, to embrace the healing I had gained through therapy, and to cling to Him.

“Let it go,” He whispered.
“Cling to my cross.”

After years of waiting, I told my attorney I could not go through a trial—but I still wanted to protect any women who might come into contact with my rapist. In the state of Georgia, there is something called a “dead docket,” where charges remain on record, but no trial occurs. I chose that option and felt I had done what I could to protect others.

Life continued to shake me. In 2014, I lost my job in May. My oldest daughter got married on October 4th. And on October 13th, I was in a serious automobile accident with a tractor-trailer (unrelated to my drinking). At that point, I wasn’t a daily drinker—but I was what I called an out-of-control weekend warrior.

God Kept Calling Me Back

The Lord still had a firm grip on me. He would not let me forget that He had called me to this healing work.

In February 2014, through a haze of alcohol, I took the HTSM 103 class during one beautiful sunny weekend. I tried to hide my shaking. I struggled through the day without my usual drinks. I stayed to myself and absorbed everything being taught. Once home, I made up for the day by drinking heavily, even as I tried to excitedly explain what I was learning.

With strong coffee and little sleep, I returned for Sunday class. The hiding, the pretending, the shame—those had to take a backseat to what I was learning.

That afternoon, we did the Sign of the Cross Blessing. As I began, I felt disoriented. I assumed it was withdrawal. But as the blessing continued, I felt myself disappearing into a brilliant white space. The movements became second nature—like an old familiar waltz. In that sacred place, God assured me I was on a path, and He was guiding me the entire way.

I don’t remember hearing the music. I only wanted to stay in that place of light and warmth. When the blessing ended, I felt as though everything had been drained out of me. To my embarrassment, I doubled over and broke into tears that could not be contained.

I had encountered something holy in spite of my shame and hiding.

After that experience, I knew I needed help.

God waited for me to be ready.

Recovery, One Hard Step at a Time

It took three attempts to break the cycle of addiction. I found strength and guidance through a church-based program called Celebrate Recovery. The journey has been arduous, but I know God has been beside me every step of the way.

The Return of an Old Battle

Three weeks before I was scheduled to attend HTSM 104, I received a call from the District Attorney of the county where the rape occurred.

I learned my rapist, through his attorney, had petitioned the court to have the charges expunged from his record. There seemed to be only two options: I go to trial, or the record is expunged.

I had no idea the dead docket could end after a certain number of years.

After prayer and conversations with my therapist, I told the DA I could not go through a trial—but I also could not accept the idea that his record would be clean, with no public trace of what he had done.

“Somehow I want a solution where this would always haunt him as it haunts me,” I told the DA.

Now I am waiting again, while the DA works with the rapist’s attorney to reach some kind of settlement. It may still result in his record being expunged. I’m struggling to accept that possibility. Old feelings of shame and guilt have resurfaced. I’m wrestling with what it truly means to “let it go.”

Unexpected Care, Real Support

I shared this with Margaret. With unexpected compassion, she listened to my story and suggested essential oils to help with the anxiety and nightmares I’ve been having.

During the Spiral Meditation, Linda worked with my group and on me personally. She was able to drain away much of the low back pain I thought was only from the car accident, but which was being fueled by stress and the shame left over from the rape.

I feel stronger now. I’m in less physical pain. And I can see that I’m making strides in the healing process through my work in HTSM.

Blessings can flow despite our circumstances—and I continue to find great comfort in that.

Kate Becnel
(Note: Kate has recently finished HTSM 105 and the Basic Practitioner Program)