A testimony of grace.
As a little girl, I was clothed in innocence—
pure-hearted, wide-eyed, and trusting of all.
My earliest memories echo in the dust of my daddy’s junkyard,
where we lived first in a tent, then in a shack.
At four years old, I’d cling to my daddy’s rough, sweaty hand
as we walked the cracked roads of a life we didn’t choose.
He was a man fractured by pain, caught in alcohol and meth addiction—
trying to silence his sorrow,
but losing pieces of me in the process.
A safe place to begin
At five, I was gathered into the arms of my aunt and uncle.
And for the first time, I knew what it meant to stay.
Running water. Warm meals. My own seat at the table.
But most of all, love.
Unconditional, unwavering love.
They made me feel wanted—like I belonged.
I was still broken, but I had a safe place to begin to heal.
Around the age of eight, my mother re-entered my world.
Oh, how my heart leapt.
My mother. My blood. My longing. My momma.
Those visits were precious to me,
even though her world was shadowed by addiction.
I wanted to rescue her, see her smile, keep her safe.
When innocence was shattered
At nine years old, I experienced sexual abuse
at the hands of people I should have been able to trust.
I was left in a fog of confusion and fear.
The little girl who trusted everyone
now trusted no one.
As I grew, pain wrapped around me like chains.
In high school, I reached for anything to numb the ache.
Addiction became my healer, my prison, my false god.
By eighteen, I wasn’t just broken. I had lost the desire to live.
But the prayers of my grandmother—faithful, relentless—
had built a shelter I didn’t even know I stood beneath.
Heaven met me in a jail cell
It was in a jail cell that Heaven met me.
There, in the silence of my rock bottom,
I cried out—every fiber of my soul shattered and exposed.
God, in His mercy, met me there.
He didn’t just meet me. He rescued me.
He breathed life into dry bones,
took my heart of stone,
and gave me one that beat with hope again.
“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted…”
Psalm 34:18
I surrendered.
No more halfway faith. No more games.
Grace became my foundation
I entered a faith-based recovery program—
thirteen months of pruning, pressing, and purifying.
God’s Word became my foundation.
I graduated, then stayed to serve for four years,
pouring out what was so graciously poured into me.
In 2015, I met my husband.
In 2016, we married and began building RSM’s residential ministry
together in Elizabethton, Tennessee,
carrying forward the calling God had placed on Joshua’s heart in 2011.
What began as one place of healing
now reaches across four campuses in Tennessee and Virginia.
Only God could write this story.
My life, His glory
I am still a woman with flaws. Still learning.
But I’ve grown into the woman God always saw in the ashes.
With reverence and awe,
I pour into the women God entrusts me with—
not because I am worthy,
but because He is.
I live to proclaim the name of Jesus,
to shine the light I found in that jail cell—
the light that chased out the shadows of my past.
He loved me in my ruin.
Even then, He shed His blood for me.
I will never stop singing of that grace.
I have fallen in love with Jesus Christ—
my Savior, my King, my Rock, my Redeemer.
He pulled me from the hand of the enemy
and led me to repentance with mercy that never runs dry.
Thank You, Jesus.
Oh, how I love You.
May my life be a mirror of Your glory.
— Marley Scalf