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If I dare to dream, If I dare to believe, If I dare to breathe, What wonder might I see? What destiny awaits for me? If I dare to breathe, If I dare to dream, If I dare to believe, Will I finally find my victory? Years spent in the trenches, Years wandering aimlessly, The arrows of doubt wielded too much power, Lies of shame inflicting endless pain. If I dare to dream, If I dare to breathe, If I dare to see myself—truly see— Will that release me from captivity? I challenge myself to believe in the reflection of His design— To simply love who He created me to be. Imperfectly perfect, Beautiful chaos, In all its splendor. Audacious. Humble. Courageous. Doubtless. Shameless. Kind. Loud. Authentic. Loving. Relentless. Selfless. Free to dance in joy and grace, Full of love and soaring with purpose, Forgiving in the moment—living. Daring to dream, Daring to breathe, Daring to stay true to who I am, Dying to self, so He can be more— So I can soar higher and higher, To heights beyond my understanding— For I am royalty, born anew. Lower and lower my pride descends, Lower and lower I release it all— Casting it at His feet, Bowing in humility— Complete in His presence. Humbly, I am nothing without my King. Humbly, my heart sings. Humbly, I lay down all crowns— Clothed in His righteousness, I stand. Joyfully, I rest my head upon His chest, He whispers new words— Songs yet to be sung in the days to come. We breathe in unison, His breath filling my lungs with life. I choose to breathe. I choose to dream. I choose to believe. Nothing more. Nothing less. I will accept only the best— No longer allowing shadows or false promises to steal my peace. I refuse to yield to the hellish pressure of performance. I refuse to live for those who cannot see. I refuse to seek approval from the blind. I refuse to chase after the impatient and unkind— Those who do not understand that a person's heart takes time to heal and unfold. From this day forward, I vow to stay true to my eternal Lover—The Glory King. I promise to be patient with myself, as I learn to simply be. To speak kind words to myself, And as my destiny unfolds, To move slowly, allowing His living truth to take root within. There is beauty in transformation. Every step I take, every breath I draw, Is a testament to the grace that surrounds me. I am learning to embrace the process, To cherish the moments of stillness, Where I can hear His gentle whispers. As I navigate through life's challenges, I discover the strength that lies within. It is a quiet strength, A resilience born from faith and love. I am reminded that healing is not linear; It ebbs and flows like the tide. With each passing day, I find freedom in my faith. It is a freedom that liberates my spirit, Allowing me to rise above the noise. I am learning to trust the journey, To surrender my fears and doubts. In the stillness, I find clarity. In the chaos, I find peace. I have learned to dance in the rain, To celebrate the storms that shape me. For every trial is a stepping stone, A masterpiece, intricately designed, A reflection of His love and grace. As I cultivate this awareness, I am filled with a sense of purpose. I am learning to shine my light, To share my story with others. For in our stories, we find connection, A reminder that we are not alone. Together, we can lift each other up, Encouraging one another on this journey. As I look to the future, I am filled with hope and anticipation. I know that the path ahead may not always be easy, But I am ready to embrace the adventure. I will walk with courage, Guided by the light of His love. I will celebrate the small victories, And honor the lessons learned along the way. In this journey, I am discovering the beauty of being. I am learning to trust His process, To embrace the unfolding of my story. For I am a beloved child of the King, This journey is just beginning. Let us dare to dream, Dare to breathe, And dare to believe in the beauty of our own stories. Together, we can find freedom, And inspire one another to soar.

It is time to speak of something difficult—something many still call taboo. In these days when nearly everything is politicized, abortion remains one of those conversations people instinctively silence. Shame, guilt, fear, or anger rise within and cause them to turn away. But I will no longer remain silent. Shame kills. It silences and destroys. Keeping the truth hidden only strengthens darkness’s deathly grip on the soul. I speak plainly and bluntly because I have walked this valley myself. I have laid my pain, my choices, and my brokenness before the Father. I have wrestled with my decisions and I have met Him in the secret place, and now I walk with greater clarity, understanding, and authority. In this hour, as abortion laws expand even to the point of birth, I feel compelled to speak. No woman should make this decision without understanding the living hell she is stepping into. If you have had an abortion or participated in one in any way, hear me now: shake off that shame and guilt. I was in my twenties when I had two abortions. I was drowning in pain and darkness, barely able to breathe. I was dating and having sex when I had no business doing so, without understanding the sacred weight of its consequences. The first came right after I started my first business. I was pregnant by a man who was emotionally lazy and irresponsible, with no intention of being a father or helping financially. I was already caring for my three-year-old son and suffering terribly from hyper-emesis. I could barely get out of bed to care for myself or him. My new business was slipping away. Lost and unable to trust God or anyone else, I made the appointment. Two days later, I was no longer pregnant. Though I knew what I had done was wrong, I cloaked it in the world’s excuses—“my body, my choice.” Those words offered no comfort afterward. Neither did the voices cheering me on. I already believed God hated me, so I thought this act could only deepen His hatred. The moment that still pierces me is telling my excited little boy that the baby had gone to Heaven—and hearing his sweet heart break as he cried. The shame I carried afterward stayed with me. In time, I numbed it with drugs. Two years later, I found myself in an even darker pit. I had fallen down a flight of stairs and suffered a major injury. My once-strong body could no longer perform as it always had. My business was collapsing. Depression consumed me, and pain pills blurred my days. Bitter and angry, I sought solace in the arms of a man instead of the arms of The Father. I heard The Father’s voice warning me not to see this man, but pride and rebellion ruled me. I even wished for pregnancy, believing it would somehow heal the brokenness and make us fall in love. How deeply deceived I was. He came from a patriarchal culture where the man ruled and decided all things. Four months in, I became pregnant. At six weeks, I suffered another devastating injury—my eye socket was fractured, and I nearly lost my eye. The pregnancy worsened hyper-emesis. The relationship turned dark. He grew verbally abusive and threatened to take the baby after birth so his mother could raise our child in a Buddhist temple. He also turned against my son. At five and a half months pregnant, desperate and lost, I went through with it again. Alaska would not permit abortions past three months, so the state paid for me to fly to Seattle. No other options were offered at the clinic. There, they performed a sonogram. The baby’s head was significantly larger than it should have been. I could not bear to look. Then came the needle—nine or ten inches long. I began to weep. As they guided it into my womb, my baby moved—frantically trying to escape, burrowing into the left side. My child was aware. My child was frightened and in distress. The lie that unborn babies feel nothing is a deception only the evil or deeply deceived can speak. Then my baby stopped moving. It felt like a stone—heavy and still—inside my once-safe womb.They carried me into the operating room. When I woke, I was weeping and crying out, “Where is my baby? Give me back my baby! Oh dear God, what have I done? Please… give me back my baby!” The despair and emptiness that followed cannot be expressed in words, truly. For 12 years, that pain of my baby burrowing and trying to move away stayed with me like a long lost love. Everyday. Reminding me. Crying out to me. The pain. The anguish. My mind replaying the murder of my child, over and over. Weeping. Sorrowful. If only I could go back. If only I had five seconds to make a different decision. For years afterward, it felt as if I was dying every day. Even now, not a single day passes without thoughts of my babies—my beautiful, precious children I never got to meet. I never held them. I never smelled the sweet, heavenly scent of their breath. I never heard their first cries in the night or felt them nurse at my breast. I never looked into their eyes with wonder. I never had the chance to kiss their boo-boos, or hold them when they were scared, or teaching them how to be still and listen. I never watched them run and laugh, scramble eggs in the kitchen, or cuddle close while we dreamed upon the clouds and stars. I missed every sacred moment meant for us. And in missing them, part of my own becoming was lost. These two choices are the only ones I would undo if I could. Above every hardship, every mistake, they cut the deepest. Even today, my heart remains tender toward those moments. Tears still come unbidden as I imagine who my children might be now. A sigh escapes, tears fall onto my lap. I see the depravity of what I did. I now understand that in aborting my children, I spiritually signed a blood covenant with a demon god that feeds on the blood of the innocent. This truth is heavy, but it must be spoken. It is a matter of life and death. To any woman reading this who is considering abortion: I have walked this path before you. I implore you—please do not go through with it. Stop. Breathe. Pause long enough to see there are other options. There are agencies and families who long for your child more than words can say. You can even reach out to me. Just please, choose life. Give this precious soul inside you the chance to breathe, to laugh, and to soar into the destiny for which they were created. You are loved beyond what you can fathom. Though the Father desired life for that child, when you turn to Him in true repentance, you are forgiven. The blood of Jesus covers it completely. Your sin is cast into the Sea of Forgetfulness, and The Father remembers it no more. The shame may threaten to strangle you at first, but do not remain there. Come before Him as His forgiveness rushes toward you with fervor and unwavering love. Call upon the Father of Lights—Yahweh, Call upon Jesus... The One who formed you and your baby before the earth was ever a thought, Psalm 139. He is mercy. He is grace. He is redemption. Do not listen to the condemning voices or the cheers for death. The Father is not waiting to condemn you—He longs to wrap you in His love. He has a plan and purpose for you and your baby. Please… choose life, just as life was chosen for you.

Do you ever feel like you’re not allowed to fly? Do you ever feel dead—dried up inside? Do you ever feel like you must live according to lies? Do you ever feel trapped inside your own mind? Pressure closes in from every side. Fear whispers, spitting out its lies. For a split second, I turn and hide. For a moment, I believe the lie. For a moment, I fall for the trick. For a moment, I forget I hold the Sword of the Spirit—not a simple stick. I kneel, head bowed, tears falling freely. I repeat the words I’ve known all my life. His peace settles over me— steady, sure. Each bold word is my grip tightening on Jesus, my refusal to let go. I remember: I am unbroken. Unstuck. Realigned. Reassigned. No longer blind. I feel His breath on me. His power surges through my veins. His shadow wraps around me. His love overtakes me. Freedom echoes in the depths. The song of heaven fills my head. The words of heaven form on my lips— Truth flowing like a river. The ground begins to quake. My heart knows what’s at stake. A champion, resolute, I lift my head. The battle cry builds inside. The enemy cowers— his lies now powerless. He turns to flee, but my sword strikes and cuts short his stride. Clothed in victory, I hear heaven’s celebration. Humbled, I see the King approaching. I fall to my knees— crowns cast down. An atmosphere of love surrounds me, profound, all-encompassing. I am in awe of the sound— Eternal. Mystical. Mysterious. Supernatural. It flows around me, it claims my ground. And forever, in His love, I am bound.

Discover Sacred Beauty, an inspirational blog guiding you to freedom from inner struggles. Embrace healing and step into His Marvelous Light. Three years ago, as I sat quietly before The Father of Lights, an encounter so pivotal and monumental took place that I have not been the same since. The event changed me... heart, mind, soul and body and has continued to heal the most deeply wounded and fractured parts of me. It was during this moment that Sacred Beauty was born and it's something that is meant for all of creation. As I've walked through life I have often sought healing in places I was never meant to walk. Wandering into dark regions of earth's realm, ensnared by deathly and deceptive creatures whispering lies and hurling hate; hopeful I would stay their captive. Oftentimes frozen in fear, I would weep wishing someone would find me. Desperate to be loved and not trusting the voice I could faintly and lovingly hear calling my name. I lived most of my life in fear and despair. Little did I know that, every step I took was bringing me closer to the reality that had always been right in front me. I was loved beyond comparison. I was loved by the one that designed every breath I would ever breathe, every heartbeat my heart would ever beat, and every step I would ever take. It didn't matter what moment I was in, how treacherous my actions were, how much I hated myself or the many moments I ignored the voice of love calling out to me; He simply never left my side. Every moment of my life brought me into an understanding that I was an intricate part of something so much bigger than I could imagine, so much more than I had ever allowed myself to believe. My life is an example of how close The Creator is to all of His creation and how loving and gracious He truly is. There is no force in all creation more powerful than the love of Jesus Christ who gave His life for us. His sacrifice was not one of obligation—it was a sacrifice made in passion and love. We are His beloved. His treasure. And so I invite you into this space. My prayer is that as you read, you will hear His voice speaking to you—that you will see your own story wrapped in His love and mercy, and remember that His love is for you , just as deeply as it is for me. I pray that you too, may have the deeply wounded and most fractured parts of you healed and made whole by the hands of The One Who Is Love. Let Jesus still your racing thoughts. Let Him bind the broken pieces of your soul. Let Him reveal the truth your spirit has always known: You are, and have always been, His Sacred Beauty.

Discover faith based healing stories that inspire hope and resilience. Explore faith based healing stories and feel empowered today. "And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony" Revelation 12:11 The first time I felt The Father's Presence. I was three-ish. It was a bright summer day in Alaska and I was riding my Hot Wheels tricycle so fast, circle after circle, as I tried out the worst cuss words I had heard my dad and sister say earlier. I kept peddling trying out each word. I got this sense of pride, like I was super cool and puffed my chest out. All of a sudden, this palpable presence that came by way of the wind, an encapsulating embrace. The presence was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was so thick with love, kindness, and a sense of protection. I n that moment, somehow, I knew what I was saying was not okay. I didn't understand what it was. I didn't understand Who it was. I just understood how I felt during and after that moment. I felt loved and protected. It was weird and I had no framework to explain what had just happened. There was a long period of time that memory remained buried and forgotten; buried and forgotten under so much darkness and despair. As a child my parents were into the hippie, hedonistic, and new age lifestyle. During the younger years my mom and dad also studied under a Yogi and attended gatherings at their temple in Alaska. The lifestyle was intense and I remember weird and lascivious men and women around. There was also a very comfortable relationship between my mom and witchcraft. She had spirit guides, she would confer with during physic readings, utilizing tarot cards and, throwing ruins. The customers and readings would be done in our home. At the time my mom didn't realize the spiritual danger she opened our home too. Un-seen doors allowed access to whatever demonic spirit decided to come through. I was tormented by fear and followed around by death as though we were long lost friends. I never felt safe anywhere. The attacks came one after the next. Years of neglect, perpetual sexual abuse, physical accidents and head trauma followed. I was tormented with nightmares and daymares. During the day I would hear gravelly demon voices, on the outside of my head. They would call my name, threatening me with death and other harm. They followed me everywhere and the access they had to me was used, in excess. For the first five to seven years of my life there are so many memories of sexual activity and abuse that no child should have. Memories that can only be explained as examples of being trafficked, trafficked to strange men and people that would throw child sex parties at their homes. There was child sex parties that took place in our home, involving other children in our cul-de-sac and an older male sibling. Strange babysitters and the neighborhood ice cream man were given access to me. I was left alone with them, each on separate days and times. the ice cream man took me to his home. it was so scary After he closed the door. I remember the hallway having that icky low dimmed yellow light and the end of the hallway was so dark it swallowed the light. I was petrified and don't remember anything after walking to the end with him. He must have had me for a long time; At some point, I faintly heard my name being yelled over and over again. I remember pounding noise, pounding and yelling, "Open the door, this is the police", Over and over again. I remember the door opening and the police being there, my dad picked me up and we started walking home. The police stayed and questioned the man. the babysitter who violated me was a stranger and allowed to stay in our home after my dad had only just met her in our cul-de-sac. Just me and a stranger. I was left alone with a strange older girl and was sexually assaulted in my home, in my room. That room... so much darkness and torment had been welcomed. The floor was littered with urine-stained mattresses. Our dads abuse and neglect was apparent. I remember. I was gaslit but, I remember. I remember what he did to me and the sexual abuse he perpetrated. I can still fill the sting and pain of his betrayal. Many other times, I remember being taken to the local XXX-porn store located by the nursery that had swans, two blocks down on Muldoon road; with my dad and little brother. I remember being taken inside. I remember the images on the shelves. I remember being taken into a back room past the front counter. I was a child. I was a groomed child. Groomed to live in-service of my abusers. Fulfilling their wanton lusts and perversions without question. I was a child. I did what I was told for the reward of affection and "love". I was a child. Violated since birth. The pain and torment left behind by the wanton perversions forced upon my young body, can not be put into words. I was a child. My body was sold to men. My body was sold to grown men. Many of those men were local business owners in and around the surrounding areas of Anchorage, Alaska. I was trafficked to Bainbridge island, WA, from Alaska being forced to solicit men as customers. I was forced to stay by way of my handlers stealing my ID. - I will speak on this matter in a separate post- I was trafficked to a traveling billionaire and his wife at the Captain Cook Hotel, in Alaska; later flown to Florida to spend time with them. decades of years being forced to enjoy rape, and physical, emotional, sexual and mental abuse. I suffered from severe depression and drug addictions. I endured undiagnosed adhd, agoraphobia and severe PTSD, anxiety, same-sex attraction and relationships. By the time I was 18, I was fully addicted to pain, sex, BDSM, bulimia, and many other emotional and Mental health issues that harassed me daily. I self-harmed in many of the ways I had been abused. I had learned to associate pain with love and love with sex— never realizing it was okay to say, "No". I was conditioned to believe that if I said, "No", it meant I would be rejected and until I complied I would continue to be rejected. I was groomed to accept abuse as a form of love. Time passed as each layer of my being slowly turned numb from the habitual acts of violence committed in the name of love. at the end of 2001 my firstborn arrived and changed my life. By 2005 I had opened a small business. By 2006 a fall caused a lasting spine injury. By 2007 I had a freak accident with a golf club and almost lost my eyeball. I was also pregnant by a man who was insane and abusive. After becoming violently sick for five months and dealing with all the abuse, I had a late term abortion. The State of Alaska by way of Planned Parenthood paid for all flight, hotel and transportation arrangements for an over night trip to Seattle, WA, in order to have the abortion completed. I was sent to WA because the abortion term limits were more liberal, Allowing abortions up to 26 weeks. In 2009, my son and I drove the Alaskan Canadian Highway, from Arizona to Alaska, in April, in six days. After crossing the border into Alaska, I broke my sway bars and was stranded in Glenallen, AK. By 2011, I had lost all of my material possessions and was homeless with my son. Two months after I had rented a room from a man, unbeknownst to us, during the night he took his own life. The next morning, after my son's bus had left, I returned to the house and to my room. A few moments later, I heard a woman screaming, "Oh my God! Oh my God!" repeatedly. About five minutes later, the police arrived. I was questioned, and it was then, that an officer told me he had died by suicide. A few weeks later, I learned from the daily newspaper that it was suspected he had taken his own life because he was being investigated by his employer, ServiceMaster in Anchorage, Alaska, for embezzlement and fraud. The weight of these circumstances and the loss left a profound impact on my life. we were homeless again. In 2012, we re-located to Seattle WA and within a few months I was in a relationship with another man I had no business being with. He mimicked the depravity of abuse and narcissism I had survived, the entirety of my life. By 2013 I was pregnant and suffering from severe depression domestic violence, severe and chronic Hyperemesis-Gravidarum. I was constantly in the emergency room due to severe dehydration. During that time I had unknowingly contracted a bacterial STD from my significant other. The bacteria was dangerous for the baby. I was scared and deep in the middle of the most abusive relationship I had experienced. Immediately, I found an an OBGYN after my ER visit. I shared everything with Dr. Bruce Erhart. All of the childhood abuse and the current abusive relationship, etc. I was a blubbering mess but thought I could trust this doctor. I was only six-weeks along when I was given a physical examine by Dr. Bruce Erhart. Before it happened, he excused the witnessing nurse and left the room with her as he verbally gave her the task of getting my paperwork ready for when I checked out. Then the door closed. He returned quickly, by himself and that is when he sexually assaulted me. how did this happen? with my son I had chosen to have an at home birth with a midwife. I had no experience with OBGYN'S. I was mortified when the full details came together during a different ER visit. After I shared with the attending Swedish nurse, what the Swedish OB-GYN doctor did during that physical exam—and how I contracted a terrible infection that lasted for ten days—I felt overwhelmed. I explained that it felt different than when a gloved hand is used during the exam, and at the last minute, before I could do anything or resist, I heard the quiet but unmistakable sound of a glove being removed but second guessed myself. Why did i second guess myself? I then felt his hand enter my body repeatedly as he used his gloved hand to press on my stomach in several different areas. The exam was painful and similar to the kind you have when getting a pap-smear. I didn't know what to do. Was this actually happening? I second guessed myself. I was in shock and disbelief. but, I did not imagine anything. he had used his bare hand to complete the physical exam. The er nurse listened and stated she believed me. She informed me there was no valid reason a physical exam should have been done, especially without a nurse present and that something very, very wrong and serious had taken place. She acted very suspect toward the OBGYN and explained the harm that had come to my body. She also, strongly suggested I make a formal complaint against him. I was consumed with anger, rage, exhaustion; s o many other emotions raged. This is the moment that broke me. There was nowhere to turn. I had no support. I had no confidants. There was no one to offer encouraging or wise words. The impact this had on me was unexplainable. I was pregnant. I had been assaulted. My unborn child had been assaulted. I was Isolated and alone. Estranged from most of my family. Unknowingly, I had also contracted Lyme disease and mononucleosis (EBV) during my pregnancy and experienced horrible symptoms for years before being given medical treatment. I also suffered with severe undiagnosed postpartum depression that left me suicidal, most days. For those of us who have endured abuse—especially the explicit sexual abuse outlined in my testimony—our souls often fracture into countless pieces. The most beautiful parts of us splintered away. We bury ourselves in pits of nothingness. afraid to breathe without permission. We live for approval, seeking those who will control and manipulate us—because that is all we know. Are we allowed to dream? Are we allowed to hope? Are we allowed to live? Are we doomed to spend our lives merely surviving? We can't fathom the time it takes to heal. We can't fathom the amount of time that will pass before we discover our laugh. We can't fathom the time it takes for the heart to soften and trust. Unbeknownst to us, Jesus knows... Jesus knows how to love us with persevering accuracy and precision. Jesus knows our hearts need gentle words spoken in love and kindness. Jesus' plan is to heal and restore every fractured piece of our souls. I never thought I would live to understand what it feels like to be whole, to be healed, to be loved, and to be protected. Walking in the atmosphere of lies, for all those years, left me blind. I wandered with such desperation to just get it right, to just be okay, to just be good enough to go to Him. For years I was unable to see what my purpose was. I understand now that my purpose is, to love Him. To make Him my everything. Too look to Him alone for everything I need, spiritually, physically, financially, mentally, and verbally. I never thought I'd be alive and have the breath to testify of Gods goodness To testify of His depth of love, mercy and grace toward us all. My heart is awestruck as I read Song of Songs 2:1–2 “I am truly His rose, the very theme of His song. I am overshadowed by His love, growing in the valley. Yes, you are my darling companion. You stand out from all the rest. For though the curse of sin surrounds you, still you remain as pure as a lily, even more than all the rest.” Tears pour down my face . Jesus' love for me is pure, intentional, and unshakable. Jesus has never forgotten me. Jesus never thought I was too broken to heal. Jesus never thought I was beyond his saving and redeeming reach. The Living God who knit me into my mothers womb, has never let go of me—not for a single heartbeat. The breath in my lungs is proof that I have value and my story is far from over. Without question, Jesus is more real and loving than anything I've been taught. Without question, Jesus Christ, triumphed over every sin, shadow, every lust and perversion; every prison, every chain, and every dark and depraved decision I have made or might make. He sees every scar I carry. His hands have gathered every tear I've shed. He has silenced the lies with The Truth of His love. He surrounds me with His love—protecting the most beautiful parts of me. Even now, His love wraps around me, restoring my dignity and sealing my eternal birthright as, His Sacred Beauty. Specifically, purposed and created by His hands. Sacred Ones...repeat those words as many times as you need! Breathe deep and lift your heads. Step into the truth He has set before you. You are and have always been His Sacred Beauty—treasured, chosen, redeemed. And nothing—not even the darkest night—can steal the sunrise He has written for your life. Contact Me Today Please reach out with all prayer requests or if you just need to talk. r.galloso@sacrdbeauty.com