Some of my friends tease that I can both take a life and save a life – because of my former career as both a women’s self-defense instructor and CPR instructor – and because of the seemingly odd transition from quasi-law enforcement to Christian ministry.

The connection, however, is not as puzzling as it may appear:

I spent two years getting progressively worse before finally being diagnosed with stage 4 Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. I spent a week in the hospital and knew that if I survived, I wanted to do something to give back – somehow. (This is the short answer version I tend to give when asked why/how I became a chaplain.)

After divorce, cancer, and a full hysterectomy all before the age of 35, I was ready for a change. I assumed that change would be within law enforcement.

In my role as Crime Prevention Officer with Belmont University, I acted as the liaison between our department and our local police department. As the officer in charge of local and federal reporting, I worked closely with the TBI (Tennessee Bureau of Investigation). In planning for the 2008 Presidential Town Hall Debate, I spent the better part of a year working closely with the Secret Service. Naturally, I assumed my future would entail transitioning from campus security to some form of law enforcement, and I was leaning toward the TBI.

In 2014, I was serving as co-assistant chief when the Chief of Security retired. That same year, the campus experienced its first on-campus suicide. The other co-assistant chief and I were acting as interim chiefs. When I got the call, I was at a funeral for church acquaintances murdered by their son-in-law.

When we arrived, Mike and I worked together like a well-oiled machine – the Wonder Twins as we had been nicknamed. He, a former police officer, naturally gravitated to the logistical needs of the situation. Without giving it a thought, I naturally sought to the emotional needs of our staff. I knew that everyone – from the first officer on the scene to those who were never even there, would be emotionally impacted.

After the scene was properly managed and everything returned to “normal,” Mike and I met with all three shifts to debrief the incident. I started each meeting with a prayer, the first time I ever prayed with our staff. The following day, I arranged for our campus counselor to come talk to all of our staff.

After reflecting on everything that happened, although a life in ministry was still not on my radar, I did come to realize a two things:

1. This was no longer my Belmont.
2. Law enforcement was not the proper path for my future.

When I moved back home to Texas a few months later, burned out from a 24/7 on-call lifestyle, I attempted to take what I loved most about my work at Belmont and start working for myself. I created a company called Strong Response, teaching both self-defense and CPR.

It did not take long before I realized I am a TERRIBLE business owner. Without fail, I always sought to do what was in the client’s best interest above and beyond my own financial needs.

So, I sought and struggled to find a “real” job again. By this time, I had answered the call to ministry, but had not sensed a call to a particular path – although I knew I did not want to become a church pastor.

Then, after a very long time of struggling, I got an interview. They seemed impressed with me and even offered me more money to teach CPR in-house. Before the interview concluded, they asked if there was anything keeping me from being able to start immediately. I said no. They said they would be in touch.

On my way home, I got a phone call from the pastoral care department of Methodist Hospital. The woman said she came across my application, knew my pastor, and asked if I was interested in their paid internship position. I was at a loss for words. It was a Wednesday afternoon. She told me to think about it and call her back in a few days. I applied months before – back when I applied to any and every available job I found – and I completely forgot about it.

I was in my car, just about to take the exit for home. Instead, I turned around and headed to church. When I got there, I sought out my pastor and told him everything. I asked for his advice. He said, “duh, of course you’re going to take that job!” I must have looked at him quizzically because he added, “that’s all you’ve been talking about!” He put the pieces of the puzzle together for me.

Still, I could not take the job without first talking with my father. When I moved back to Texas, we had a deal. I could live with him for a year rent free while I got back on my feet.

It had been well over a year, but he had been supportive because he knew how hard I was trying. If I took this job, it would mean less money – and I would have to go back to school – which meant I would potentially need his help for 4 more years.

When I told him about it, he also encouraged me. He said, “that other opportunity is just a job. This is a career. Of course, you need to do it.”

With the support of my pastor and my dad, I turned down the steady job and veered course – and I am eternally grateful. I absolutely LOVE what I do – and see how both my cancer journey and the suicide experience led me to where I am today.

AND . . . I get a HUGE kick out of God’s sense of humor. Not only did I work at Belmont, but I graduated from Belmont. I started as a music business major and ended up with a BA in religion, never intending to work in ministry (long story).

During one semester of a spiritual formation class, we had to volunteer with a hospital chaplain. I hated every single minute of it. I was painfully shy back then. I suffered a near panic attack before going into any room, had to take a few deep breaths after leaving the room, and had to psych myself up to do it all again. It was pure torture. When the semester was over, I swore I would never do that again – NEVER!

Yep, I look back and imagine God in that moment, laughing, saying, “We’ll just see about that!”