In the 1800s, my great-grandmother, who was white, became very ill. Her doctor prescribed morphine for her pain and, unfortunately, she became addicted to it. She eventually became involved with and conceived a child by a black man who was able to get the drug for her.

Their child, my grandmother, was born in 1900. Because her skin was brown, my grandmother was not allowed to attend the local public school. Neither were her daughter (my mother) nor I.

My mother and I have white skin; nevertheless, we were denied the privilege of going to school because of our racial heritage. We were rejected, laughed at, talked about, ridiculed and put down.

Other children would walk by me in town and not speak to me. The school bus driver said that if I were permitted to go to school, he would not stop to pick me up.

But God turned all these things around. My grandmother went to be with the Lord in 1985. My mother is saved and is still with me.

I have been in ministry for 35 years. I am ordained, and I have served as a pastor for 16 years. I’ve also written and recorded a number of gospel songs.

In spite of all that happened in my family, God has used me. He has sent people into my life to help me, but most of all, the Lord Himself has been my teacher.

Today, at 61 years old, I travel around the country preaching, singing and seeing people receive Jesus in their hearts. I just praise God for the miracles He has worked in my life. What man meant for evil, God meant for good.

One day I was working at my desk when one of my co-workers mentioned that Charles and Frances Hunter, the “Happy Hunters,” were holding their last healing crusade. She had read in Charisma about Frances Hunter’s bout with breast cancer.

Hearing about this, I felt as if someone had just flattened me. I thought, Frances Hunter, this wonderful instrument of God, how could this be? I have known the Hunters and been ministered to by them since 1988, when they came to my church and taught on healing.

Within minutes, I was crying, and my friend was praying for me. My co-worker asked me if the cancer I’d battled a few years before had returned. I confessed that I did not know because there were so many sensations and feelings that I was dealing with in my body and mind.

It was time for my second checkup after having undergone radiation treatments last year. My lab work had revealed something the doctors found suspicious that required further investigation.

The enemy was whispering thoughts and lies to me, as he so often does. I knew in my mind all the things I should be thinking and saying. But somehow the negative thoughts and emotions kept coming–and they were winning.

Then God reminded me of Scriptures He had given me through my three-year battle with cancer. He had prepared me for it before it began, and as I surrendered to Him, He walked me through every decision and acompanied me along every dark path.

Asking why is a natural human instinct, but I didn’t want to walk by the flesh; I wanted to walk by the Spirit. I had to choose to believe God’s report and not what the enemy was telling me or what I was feeling. I had to bring every thought captive to the obedience of Christ (see 2 Cor 10:5).

As I waited for the report of my tests, I stood on God’s promises. I learned that He is in control. He is sovereign, and I chose to take His Word personally.

Finally, my test results revealed no evidence that the cancer had returned. They did, however, find the presence of scar tissue, as my doctor had anticipated.

God showed me there is good and purpose in everything that happens to us. However, it is up to us to cooperate with Him in order to allow our circumstances to bring Him glory and honor.

I remember vividly the day my entire world changed. It was January 24, 1997, the day my husband, James R. “Jamie” Peebles Jr., died in a car accident.

We were going to my mother-in-law’s house, and Jamie was driving. Suddenly, he laid his head on my shoulder and said, “Pam, I don’t feel well.”

With the car still in motion, I threw the gearshift into park, jumped from the car and began screaming for help. The next sounds I heard were tires squealing and cars crashing against one another.

Jamie’s cousin, a paramedic, happened to be in the area. He stopped and began giving Jamie CPR, but he was pronounced dead upon arrival at the hospital. In a split second, I became a widow and a single mother of three at age 37.

Jamie and I had done everything together. Not only did I lose my husband, confidant and the father of my children, but also those who had been close to me when Jamie was alive stopped coming around after he died.

I stayed in my bedroom for long periods of time, crying. People treated me as though I had died with Jamie. The grief and abandonment I felt seemed unbearable.

I felt broken and crushed, and I didn’t see how I would ever put the pieces of my life back together again. The tears, pain and regrets were overwhelming and more than I could bear. I had taught the Word of God for years, but now my mind was so cluttered with confusion and hurt that I couldn’t think of a word of comfort for myself.

But I had a choice to make. I had to be strong for my children. At the time, my daughter, Danielle, was 15, and my twins, James III and Joshua, were 12. They had heard about the healing power of God, and it was time for me to practice what I’d taught them.

I searched the Scriptures and engrossed myself in God’s Word. The more I prayed, the more God revealed to me that Jamie’s death was not meant to destroy me. God wanted me to become the woman He had created me to be.

The more I meditated on God’s Word, the stronger I became. Seeing my strength in the Lord, my children were able to go through the healing process more easily.

One moment in one day changed my life forever, but God used it to do a new work in me and through me. In time, He gave birth to Women of Destiny Ministries International Inc. Our purpose is to help widows and other hurting women to heal and to discover their purpose in Christ.

I walked out of the Forsyth County jail on February 17, 1994. The judge released me and told me I was free to go. It seemed he did it against his better judgment because he spoke rather harshly to me as he signed my release orders.

“Young lady, you’ve done a fine job of wasting and ruining your life. Go ahead and finish the job.”

I was jubilant to be free but afraid that maybe the judge was right–that I would die in the streets. I had been a prostitute for more than 13 years, and I was afraid I was doomed to the same destruction as the other women I’d known. Yet I continued working the streets.

I was addicted to crack cocaine, and I believed it was too late for me, that it was impossible for me to change. But a few days before my court date, God met me while I was working in the jail’s laundry room.

I had asked to have the radio tuned to a gospel music station. The first song, “Another Chance,” broke my heart, and I began to weep. I started confessing my sins to the Lord.

I told God how sorry I was for the way I had almost ruined the life He had given me. Finally, I asked Him to forgive me, save me and give me another chance.

What God did for me that day was nothing short of a miracle. Now, 10 years later, I’ve gone to college and graduated with honors. I work as a high school English teacher, and I have the privilege of traveling the globe, preaching the gospel as an evangelist.

Praise God! All the glory, honor and praise belongs to Jesus.

God has been good to me throughout my life, even though there were years when the enemy had me convinced that I was a worthless nobody. I’ve been a drug addict, a drug dealer and a “gang banger.”

For 34 years, I was addicted to all kinds of drugs, including cocaine, but God delivered me. He also delivered me from cigarettes and sexual sin.

Nine-and-one-half years of my life were spent in and out of prison. But more than four years ago I was paroled, and I’ve never looked back.

I was led to my church, Ecclesia, two years ago. I thank God every day for pastor, Josh Beckley. His teaching opened my eyes to so many things, and being a part of this church family has changed my life.

Today I serve in one of the church’s community outreach ministries. It gives me the opportunity to minister to people outside the church and tell them how far God has brought me.

I’m going to remain faithful and obedient to God. I will pray and stay in the Word, so He can continue to work in me and through me. I praise His name because He is the source of my victory.

I was organizing my things before departing on the final day of a writers conference when a thought came to me, Go home now!

Where did that come from? I wondered. I paused for a moment, then decided I was imagining things, so I got back to work. But the strange feeling I had persisted.

After arguing with myself, I finally prayed, “God, are you trying to tell me something?”

“Go home now.” I didn’t hear the words; I felt them.

Quickly I packed everything and loaded the car. I hurried to the dorm’s kitchenette to get a bottle of cold water and ran into my friend Patti.

“How are you?” she asked.

I replied, “You’re going to think I’m flaky, but I have this overwhelming feeling that I need to leave now and go home.”

“That’s not flaky at all,” Patti said with a smile. “You should be obedient to that nudge. Maybe something’s wrong at home.”

“I don’t know, but my dad and my grandpa have both been having some health problems. So I’ve decided to leave right away.”

“I’ll be praying for you,” she said. I thanked her and headed for my car. I was confident I was doing the right thing but still didn’t know why.

An hour after I arrived home I got the answer. My mom called saying, “Your dad is in the hospital. He had a heart attack.”

I marveled that God loved me enough to supernaturally prepare me for this situation. All I could do was whisper a grateful prayer, “Thank you, Father, for caring so much about me.”

My mother was unable to care for me when I was born. As a result, I became a ward of the court and was placed in the foster care system in Washington, D.C., where I remained until I was 20.

I grew up in an emotionally and physically abusive home. At 13, with only the clothes on my back, I ran away. I spent my first night as a runaway in the cold, sleeping under a car and later, under a house.

Before running away, I had been living in Aiken, South Carolina, but the court relocated me to Washington, D.C. There I was moved around from a foster home to a group home and then to another group home.

At 16, I was pregnant and a junior in high school. The father of my baby wanted me to have an abortion, as did the social worker assigned to my case.

The odds seemed against me, and I felt hopeless. But I wanted to finish high school, and I wanted to keep my baby.

I remember walking down the hall of my school one day and noticing a picture of a cloud on the bulletin board. Posted beneath the cloud was the verse, “With God all things are possible” (Matt. 19:26, NIV).

I removed the cloud, took it home and taped it to my pregnant belly. I prayed over the Scripture and applied its truth to my situation.

God moved on my behalf, and I was able to keep my son and finish high school. Before graduation a classmate told me about Jesus and I became born again at 17.

After high school, I went to a technical school for two years and earned a degree in business administration. My son, Chaun, who was born when I was 16, is now a 23-year-old college student and is working toward his degree in business.

God has called both of us into His service. Chaun is a born-again Christian and a minister at the church we attend. I’ve started a youth network to provide help for young people who are troubled, as I was.

God has filled my heart with vision and hope for the future. What He’s showing me these days is awesome! I know He will come through again as He has in the past.

In October of 1999, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. Following a lumpectomy, I learned that I needed a mastectomy because the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes.

The next seven months were filled with chemotherapy, radiation and testing. My mom, who is also my personal prayer warrior, prayed continually for me.

My family and church blessed me in so many ways. I knew people were praying for me all the time.

The worst time for me was at night. I had insomnia, and Satan used those lonely hours to torment me.

I was frightened and confused and wanted God to just reach down and heal me. But during this time, I learned so much. I especially came to know that He loves me more than I can understand.

God finds many creative ways to comfort us during dark times. For me it was through poetry.

As I lay in bed, a verse would pop into my head, and I would jot it down. Before I knew it, I had written a simple little poem.

I knew these were love letters written by my Father just for me. They gave me peace when I was otherwise inconsolable.

I am a cancer survivor now. I thank God every day for my health and spiritual growth and for bringing other women with cancer into my life so that I can share His love with them.

It was Saturday morning, and I really wanted one of those flaky biscuit sandwiches from a local fast-food restaurant. Nobody makes ’em better than this place!

My husband and I had a busy day planned. We’d just swing by the restaurant, pick up our order, which we’d called in, and get on with the numerous tasks at hand.

We weren’t expecting to be delayed by a hit-and-run accident. A car had entered an intersection on a red light. An oncoming vehicle swerved to avoid a crash and was forced up onto the median where it leveled a street sign.

In disbelief, we watched as the guilty driver sped away. Hot biscuits aside, we had no choice but to follow her.

She never stopped. Finally, we took down her license plate number and returned to the accident scene.

The distraught driver, Matt, was grateful when we produced a license number so the police could trace the other vehicle’s owner. “Are you guys in a hurry?” Matt asked. “Can you talk to the police when they arrive?”

While my husband and Matt waited for the police, I left to pick up the much-desired biscuits. As I drove to the restaurant, I felt the Lord prompt me to offer my sandwich to Matt.

Ridiculous! I thought. He probably already ate breakfast.

But this young man would probably appreciate a gesture of kindness. I’ll buy an extra biscuit sandwich for him, I thought.

No, I reminded myself. I didn’t have enough money to purchase a third item. I resolved to offer my longed-for sandwich to Matt. I could do without.

I pulled up to the drive-through window, paid for two sausage-and-egg-biscuit sandwiches, and drove back to the scene of the accident. To my great surprise, Matt eagerly accepted my mouthwatering gift!

With the police report finalized, and Matt taken care of, we got in our car to leave. I reached into the brown paper sack and handed the remaining biscuit to my husband, hoping that this generous soul would insist on sharing it with me.

But there was something else in the bag, something warm, soft and wrapped. In amazement, I stared at what the Lord had placed in my hand–a sausage-and-egg- biscuit sandwich!

On July 28, 1997, I was diagnosed with Non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. The disease had already gone into my bone marrow.

As a believer, I knew that God could heal today just as He had healed people in Bible times. So along with my church family, I began seeking Him for healing. Many people were praying for me.

Today I am in remission, with no recurrence of cancer. I give God all the praise, glory and honor for sparing my life.

My experience taught me that we serve a good God, who is greatly to be praised and faithful to His people.

Nothing is impossible with Him!