Forgiveness, Acceptance, and the Quiet Power of Humility

There comes a point in every healing journey when the soul is faced with a sacred choice:
To stay bound by bitterness, or to walk forward with forgiveness.
To fight reality, or to accept life as it has been — and trust it will become more.

Forgiveness is not forgetting.
It is not excusing what was done.
It is the quiet, courageous decision to release yourself from the chains of anger.
Not because the past deserves it — but because your future demands it.

Acceptance, too, is not weakness.
It is a holy strength.
It is the willingness to stop demanding a different past and to start building a stronger future.

The journey of healing is a two-way street.
It moves between grief and grace, between pain and progress.
Some days, you walk forward bravely.
Other days, you crawl.
But every step matters. Every tear matters. Every moment of softness matters.

And above all things, humility must lead the way.
Not the humility that makes you small.
Not the kind forced on you by a world that tried to silence you.
But a deeper humility:
The kind that says,
“I am not better than anyone. But I am no less than anyone either. My life, my voice, my healing — they matter.”

Real humility bows before pain without being owned by it.
It forgives without forgetting the wisdom gained.
It accepts what cannot be changed while fighting fiercely for what still can be.

Forgiveness. Acceptance. Humility.
These are not signs of weakness.
They are the quiet, roaring power of a soul that refuses to be defeated.

With strength and wonder,
Samantha Avril-Andreassen
Founder of Stillness Meets Strength | Author of Homeless, Not Defeated

Fundamentals of Domestic Violence and AbuseFree Online Learning Course

Welcome to Fundamentals of Domestic Violence and Abuse.
 You are taking a powerful step — whether to educate yourself, to heal, or to support others.

This course is designed to be self-paced, gentle, and empowering.
 There is no rush.
 There is no pressure.
 There is only space for learning, healing, and growing — at your own rhythm.

Wherever you are in your journey, I honour your courage.

Now, let’s begin.

Module 1: Understanding Domestic Violence and Abuse

Lesson

Domestic violence is a pattern of abusive behaviour used to gain or maintain power and control over another person. It can happen in any relationship, across every culture, background, or economic status.

Forms of domestic violence include:

• Physical assault

• Emotional and psychological abuse

• Sexual violence

• Financial exploitation

• Coercive control

• Cultural or systemic oppression

Abuse often follows a cycle: tension building → explosion → reconciliation → calm.
 Understanding this cycle can help survivors recognize that the violence is not random — it is calculated and manipulative.

Self-Reflection

What beliefs about domestic abuse did I grow up with?
 What do I understand differently now?

Module 2: Recognizing the Signs of Abuse

Lesson

Signs of Abuse in Adults:

• Physical injuries (bruises, burns, broken bones)

• Fearfulness, hypervigilance

• Withdrawal from friends and family

• Extreme privacy about relationships

• Depression, anxiety, substance abuse

Signs of Abuse in Children:

• Unexplained injuries

• Sudden behavior changes (aggression, withdrawal)

• Fear of going home

• Regression (bedwetting, thumb sucking)

• Excessive alertness ("walking on eggshells")

Not all abuse leaves visible marks.
 Emotional scars are just as real — and often harder to detect.

Self-Reflection

Have I ever overlooked signs of abuse before — in myself or others?
 What might I notice now with clearer eyes?

 Module 3: The Different Faces of Abuse

Lesson

Physical Abuse: Hitting, choking, slapping, pushing, using weapons
 Emotional/Psychological Abuse: Gaslighting, threats, intimidation, humiliation
 Sexual Abuse: Non-consensual sexual acts, marital rape, sexual coercion
 Financial Abuse: Controlling money, sabotaging employment, withholding resources
 Coercive Control: Isolating from support, micromanaging daily activities, constant surveillance

Neglect (especially in children): Withholding basic needs like food, shelter, and medical care

Different survivors experience different combinations of abuse.
 One form often opens the door for others.

Self-Reflection

Which types of abuse have touched my life — directly or indirectly?
 How have they impacted my voice, my choices, my sense of safety?

 Module 4: Safe Reporting and Advocacy

Lesson

When you suspect abuse:

• Children: Reporting is mandatory. You must act if you have reason to believe a child is being harmed.

• Adults: Consent matters. Adults must usually give permission before authorities intervene — unless there is immediate danger.

Reporting Safely:

• Never confront the suspected abuser directly.

• Document observations (not assumptions).

• Know the local reporting hotlines and safeguarding agencies.

• Protect survivor confidentiality unless a life is at immediate risk.

If the system fails:
 Escalate through safeguarding leads, legal support, or advocacy groups.

Self-Help Tool

Reporting Checklist:

• Who is at risk?

• What did I observe?

• When and where did it happen?

• Who else was present?

• What action did I take?

   Module 5: Healing After Abuse

Lesson

Healing is not about erasing the past — it’s about learning to breathe again in the present.

Healing Strategies:

• Grounding exercises (calming the nervous system)

• Creativity (journaling, painting, movement)

• Support networks (trusted friends, therapists, survivor groups)

• Rest (allowing your body and mind to recover)

Healing does not require perfection.
 It only requires your willingness to begin.

Self-Reflection

What does healing mean to me today?
 What small act of kindness can I offer myself this week?

Closing Words

You are not what happened to you.
 You are what you choose to become next.

Learning about abuse is an act of survival, resistance, and rebirth.
 Whether you came here to help yourself or to help others — you are part of the healing.

You are brave.
 You are wise.
 You are not alone.

Created with truth and love by Samantha 
 Founder of Stillness Meets Strength | Author of Homeless, Not Defeated | Survivor and Advocate

Steps to Encourage Recovery from the Trauma of Domestic Abuse

Healing after domestic abuse is not linear.
 It is layered, raw, and at times overwhelmingly tender.
 Recovery is not about "moving on" — it’s about moving through, at your own pace, in your own time, with your dignity fully intact.

For every survivor beginning or continuing their journey, these steps are offered with love, respect, and the hope that they will nourish your spirit as you rise again.

1. Learn About the Dynamics of Domestic Abuse

Knowledge is power — but for survivors, knowledge is also freedom.
 Understanding how domestic abuse operates — the cycles of power, control, manipulation, and trauma bonding — gives you a framework to begin separating what happened to you from who you are.

Abuse thrives in silence and confusion.
 Learning the patterns helps dissolve the shame survivors often carry.
 It is not your fault.
 It was never your fault.

Empower yourself with information. Read. Listen. Seek out trustworthy resources.
 Knowledge will help you reclaim the narrative of your life.

2. Identify the Effects of This Trauma on You

Trauma imprints itself not just on our memories, but on our bodies, our nervous systems, our sense of self.
 Recognizing how the abuse has impacted you — emotionally, physically, spiritually — is essential for healing.

You may notice:

• Hypervigilance

• Fear of trusting others

• Self-blame

• Nightmares or flashbacks

• Deep fatigue or body pain

Acknowledging these effects is not weakness — it is wisdom.
 Naming the wounds is the first step toward tending to them with compassion and care.

3. Reassess Your Values and What’s Important to You

Abuse often forces survivors to live in survival mode, where personal dreams, values, and beliefs are pushed aside just to make it through the day.

Recovery invites you to rediscover:

• What do I believe about myself now?

• What matters most to me?

• What kind of life do I want to build going forward?

This is your sacred invitation to reclaim your identity — not as a victim, but as a full, powerful human being, grounded in your own truth.

4. Practice Self-Compassion and Prioritize Self-Care

Recovery from trauma is demanding.
 You will need radical self-compassion — the kind that doesn’t demand perfection or immediate progress.

Self-care is not selfish. It is survival.
 It includes:

• Rest when your body is exhausted

• Gentle routines that honor your well-being

• Boundaries that protect your peace

• Seeking therapy or support groups if needed

Speak to yourself as you would to a beloved friend.
 Your healing deserves your gentleness, not your judgment.

5. Embrace Creativity as a Tool for Recovery and Growth

Trauma silences. Creativity speaks.
 You don’t have to be a "professional artist" to heal through creative expression.
 Creativity can look like:

• Journaling your truths

• Painting your emotions

• Writing poetry about your journey

• Singing, dancing, sculpting, or simply crafting something with your hands

When words fail, art carries.
 Creativity bypasses fear and taps directly into the soul’s desire to survive, thrive, and tell its story.

In creating, you are declaring:
 I am alive. I am healing. I am more than what was done to me.

Final Reflection

Healing from domestic abuse is a journey that demands patience, tenderness, and courage.
 Every step you take — no matter how small — is an act of defiance against the darkness and an affirmation of your sacred worth.

You are not what happened to you.
 You are what you choose to become from here forward.

Hold your head high, even if it trembles.
 The journey is not easy — but you are not walking it alone.

With strength, faith, and truth,
 Samantha 
 Founder of Stillness Meets Strength | Author of Homeless, Not Defeated | Host of Silent Screams, Loud Strength

A Prayer for When It Feels Like Too Much

Written by Samantha Avril-Andreassen
Author of "Homeless, Not Defeated" and founder of "Stillness Meets Strength"

Lord,
I have carried as much as I can.
And now —
it feels like too much.

You see me.
Sleeping in a car, body cramped, heart breaking.
You see me.
Washing in broken places, surrounded by chaos I did not choose.
You see me.
Trying to hold my dignity in places that have stripped it bare.

I am not asking You to notice me.
I know You already do.
I am begging You to move.
To open the gates that have been slammed in my face.
To tear down the walls built against me.
To make a way where none has been made.

Lord,
I am weary of waiting.
I am tired of being strong.
I am tired of surviving.
I am tired of being the one who must always find a way in the wilderness.

I am tired of hoping when the world keeps handing me heartbreak.

I lay my brokenness before You now —
not neatly,
not quietly,
but desperately.

I lay down the fear that I will be forgotten.
I lay down the fear that injustice will have the final word.
I lay down the ache that sits in my bones like lead.

And I say,
God of Moses, who parted the sea — part this nightmare.

God of Hannah, who heard her weeping — hear mine.

God of Hagar, who found her in the wilderness — find me.

Raise Your hand, O Lord.
Lift me out of this pit.
Send Your angels to guard my body, my mind, my spirit.
Send Your favour into the courts.
Send Your mercy into my days.
Send Your strength into my trembling hands.

I cannot carry this burden another day without You.
And I should not have to.
You are the God who fights for the broken.
Fight for me now.

Rescue me, Lord.
Restore me, Lord.
Rebuild me, Lord.
Remember me, Lord.

I am still here.
Still crying.
Still believing.
Still waiting for the morning that will surely come.

Amen.

Crossing Over: A Reflection and Prayer for Homecoming and Ancestral Blessing

Today, in the quiet, I crossed over.
Not in the eyes of the world, but in the eyes of heaven.
Not with loud steps, but with a sacred knowing.

I dreamed I met my past at the door—
he carrying his burdens out,
and me carrying my healing in.

The black bricks no longer block the way.
The doorway, once guarded by fear, opened as I stepped forward.
And I crossed into my rightful place—
not as a trespasser,
but as a daughter returning home.

Today, my family lifts prayers at the gravesite where my father, Joseph Blessing, rests.
Today, even from afar, I light a candle in honor of them.
Of him.
Of all the ancestors who still whisper my name in blessing.

Today, I raise my own altar.
I call upon those who came before me,
those who fought so I could walk,
those who still rise with me when I am weary.

And I say:

Prayer

Dear Lord,
Dear ancestors who carried the weight of hope through generations,
Dear Father who rests beneath the soil and yet still walks beside me—

I honor you.

Today, I walk through the doorway of healing.
Today, I reclaim the home that fear tried to steal.
Today, I remember that blood, spirit, and prayer build altars stronger than any walls.
Stronger than distance.
Stronger than death.

Bless my family, Lord, as they gather in love and remembrance.
Bind us in spirit, even when geography keeps us apart.
Let the earth rise up in honor beneath their feet.
Let the heavens open in song above their heads.

And as for me—
Let my steps into this new season be steady.
Let my voice carry the memory and the hope of all who came before me.
Let my hands build again what love calls home.

I am not outside the altar.
I am part of it.

And by your grace,
I am crossing over.

Amen.

The Spirit That Would Not Stop: In Honour of Pope Francis

Even after a long hospital stay, even with a body weary from the demands of life and leadership, Pope Francis did not stop loving.

He visited the imprisoned.
He spoke to world leaders.
He kept reaching for the least, the last, and the lost—even when he no longer had the strength to fully carry out the gestures he loved most.

"This time I couldn't do it," he said, with regret—not because of pride, but because of deep, personal sorrow at not being able to serve in the way he always had: by bending low, by washing feet, by living the Gospel not in words, but in action.

Even in his frailty, his spirit was stronger than ever.
Even when he couldn't kneel, his heart knelt for the forgotten.

Pope Francis reminds us that our love is never measured by our ability to perform acts of service perfectly—but by the fact that we still desire to serve even when it costs us everything.

His final regret was not about his comfort.
It was about service.
It was about love.

And in that, he lived—and died—as a true servant of Christ.

With Fear and Tremors, I Spoke Anyway: My Journey to Reclaiming My Voice

“Nerves and fear have got in the way of sharing all of who I am, and today—with courage, prayer, and the gentle grace of this season—I begin again. Not perfectly. Not loudly. But truthfully. And with wonder, I choose to show up as my full self.”

This isn’t just a quote—it’s a lived reality. It’s the honest beginning of Season 2, Episode 1 of Silent Screams, Loud Strength, now streaming. It’s the story of how I found my voice, not in the absence of fear, but in the middle of it.

For years, I let fear and nerves take up space where my truth belonged. I second-guessed myself before I ever opened my mouth. I worried if my voice trembled, it wouldn’t be taken seriously. But there came a moment when I realized that the cost of staying silent was greater than the risk of being heard. That moment changed everything.

Embracing My Voice With Fear and Tremors

There’s a myth that bravery is loud and polished, that courage always looks confident. That’s not my story.

My truth is quieter. It shakes sometimes. It is carried on a breath that doesn’t always feel strong. But it is mine, and I no longer ask permission to speak it.

I didn’t wake up one day fearless. I chose, trembling, to show up anyway.

For survivors, especially those who have been silenced by abuse, systems, and shame, reclaiming our voice is not an event—it is a process. A sacred rebellion. And often, it begins with the words we whisper to ourselves in private: I am allowed to speak.

The Power of Showing Up As My Full Self

I used to offer the world only the parts of me I thought were palatable: the capable woman, the creative mind, the composed survivor. But not the parts of me that still cried in the dark. Not the woman who had panic attacks before hearings. Not the girl who once believed she didn’t deserve to be heard.

That’s changed.

Now I show up as my full self—not to perform, but to be present. Not to prove, but to live freely. My wholeness is no longer hidden behind perfectionism. It is found in my willingness to be fully seen—even when it’s uncomfortable.

I am not what was done to me. I am what I choose to do with what remains.

Speaking Is Sacred Defiance

When I speak—on the podcast, in court, in prayer, or simply at the river—I am reclaiming space in a world that tried to take it from me. Every word I offer is a quiet defiance. A refusal to be erased.

I speak not because it’s easy, but because it’s necessary.

I speak for my son.
I speak for the girl I used to be.
I speak for the women who are still afraid.
And I speak because my silence was never consent.

In a world that rewards silence and punishes survivors for their grief, speaking at all is a radical act. And I intend to keep doing it—with fear, with tremors, and with truth.

To Every Survivor Reading This

You don’t need to wait until your voice is steady to use it.

You don’t need to be polished to be powerful.

Your story—your real, raw, unedited truth—deserves to be spoken, written, and heard. Whether you whisper it through tears or shout it into the wind, what matters most is that it’s yours.

Let this be your season to begin again. Not perfectly. Not loudly. But truthfully. Just as you are.

Season 2, Episode 1 of Silent Screams, Loud Strength is now streaming.
This is my beginning again.
May it meet you in yours.

—

Samantha
Author of Homeless, Not Defeated | Healing Within | The Little Voice That Roared
Host of Silent Screams, Loud Strength
Founder of Stillness Meets Strength

Springing Into Spring: What Survivors Are Hoping to Grow in the Healing Season

Spring doesn’t knock politely—it bursts through winter’s silence.
It climbs from the frozen ground, uncurling in petals and possibilities.
It dares us to believe in beginnings again.

And for survivors—those who have endured pain behind closed doors,
who have screamed in silence,
who have weathered storms that no season can compare to—
spring is not just a shift in temperature. It is a sacred metaphor.

🌱 A Season of Resurrection

Spring reminds us that what looks dead may only be resting.
That healing sometimes happens underground,
in darkness,
in unseen roots
before it breaks into bloom.

Survivors know this intimately.
We’ve had to do the deep work of healing in quiet.
Of holding ourselves together when no one saw the battle.
And now—when the season shifts—we are asked to rise, too.

But this time, we rise not for anyone else’s comfort.
Not to smile for the world or pretend we’re okay.
We rise for ourselves.
For our voices.
For our futures.
For the version of us that never gave up.

🌼 What We Are Hoping to Accomplish

This spring, survivors everywhere are planting different kinds of seeds.
Not all look the same—but all matter deeply.

Some are planting:

• Boundaries—learning to say “no” without guilt

• Courage—to speak our stories, even if our voices shake

• Stillness—to rest without shame, knowing we’ve earned peace

• Strength—to face legal systems, families, or fears that once caged us

• Joy—the radical kind that says “I deserve to feel light again”

And some are simply planting hope—because hope is enough to grow a new life.

🌸 What Spring Reminds Us Of

Spring reminds us that:

• Even the most brutal winters end.

• Dormancy is not death—it’s preparation.

• Beauty is not found in perfection—it’s in persistence.

• Every survivor is already a miracle in bloom.

When we see daffodils fighting through frost or cherry blossoms opening after storms, we remember:
We too are allowed to take up space.
We too are allowed to bloom.

🌷 How Spring Empowers Each Survivor

Spring doesn't ask you to bloom all at once.
It whispers: "Just begin."

It gives you permission to:

• Emerge gently from survival mode

• Begin again after relapse, heartbreak, or court battles

• Reconnect with your body and your breath

• Believe that the worst thing that happened to you is not the end of your story

Spring empowers us by mirroring the resilience we’ve had all along.

You’ve already survived the winter.
Now you’re being called—not to be perfect—but to be present.

🌞 A Bold Reminder to Every Survivor Reading This:

You are not behind.
You are not broken.
You are becoming.

Let this season be one of gentle boldness.
Let it be a time where you finally realize—
you do not need permission to bloom.

You already are.

With love and truth,
Samantha
Founder of Stillness Meets Strength
Author of Homeless, Not Defeated | Host of Silent Screams, Loud Strength

Remembering From Ashore: A Sacred Thanksgiving for My Family

Today, my family gathers to give thanks—to honour tradition, life, memory, and the beautiful tapestry of generations that tie us together. Across oceans and circumstances, across time and space, they come together around a ritual that has lived within us for years. A Thanksgiving Friday held in my mother’s presence—a deeply spiritual and cultural act of unity and remembrance.

Though I am not there in person, my spirit walks beside them.
And from ashore, I honour them all.

This afternoon, I stepped into a sacred silence of my own. I visited the church, lit candles, and whispered prayers for each soul that shaped my story:

• For my father, Joseph Blessing, whose strength and lessons guide my every step

• For my brother, James Tinashe, whose spirit lives on in laughter, memory, and love

• For my mother, whose enduring grace continues to anchor the family

• And for Pope Francis, a global shepherd whose humility touched even the quietest corners of the world

I wrote my name into the Book of Condolences for Pope Francis—not because I am someone of great power, but because I am someone of deep love. I prayed not just for my family, but for the world—for the tired, the grieving, the displaced, and those who remember through pain.

Then I walked to the river.

There, beside the flowing water, I offered my own thanksgiving: Not with music or meals,
but with stillness.
With every step, I prayed.
With every breath, I remembered.
And in that moment, I knew:

Remembrance doesn’t require presence.
Love doesn’t need proximity.
And family can be honoured even when your feet aren’t at the table.

To my family:
Though I am not with you today, I send my heart across the sea.
May you feel my love in the silence between laughter.
May my prayers wrap around you like soft winds.
And may the legacy of our ancestors continue to unite us—
even when we walk different paths.

To everyone who is grieving, remembering, or honoring from afar—
You are not alone.
There is no “right way” to show up in love.
Only the honest way.
And that is enough.

🕊️ Written with love by Samantha Avril-Andreassen
In memory of Joseph Blessing & James Tinashe
In gratitude for those who gather, and those who remember from ashore

“A Candle for the Departed: A Prayer for Peace, Remembrance, and the Saints”

Today, I lit a candle.
Not out of tradition, but out of longing.
Not out of duty, but out of deep remembrance.

In a quiet sanctuary, I stood in prayer—
For my father, Joseph Blessing,
For my brother, James Tinashe,
For Pope Francis, whose humility and heart touched the world,
And for every soul who has walked into the mystery of eternity.

I felt the silence stretch beyond the walls,
into the arms of heaven itself.
And I asked the saints—those known and unknown—
to intercede, to carry our prayers like soft incense before the throne of grace.

✨ Prayer of Remembrance and Intercession

O Lord of Light and Mercy,
We lift to You all the dearly departed,
especially Joseph Blessing, James Tinashe, and Pope Francis.

May their souls rest in Your eternal peace.
May their memories be a blessing upon us.
And may Your mercy flow like a river over every soul who has passed,
whether remembered by many or mourned in quiet solitude.

Holy Mary, Mother of God,
Saint Joseph, guardian of the weary,
Saint Francis of Assisi, friend of the humble,
and all the saints—
pray for us.
Pray for the souls of the departed.
Pray for the living who are learning to carry grief and grace in the same hands.

Let the light of this candle burn as a witness:
That love does not end.
That faith carries us forward.
And that heaven is never far
from the heart that still believes.

Amen.

A Reflection & Prayer of Remembrance

For Joseph Blessing and James Tinashe
Written by Samantha, their daughter and sister—still loving, still remembering.

Today, while my family gathered in tradition,
I walked a quieter path.
Not out of distance—but devotion.
Not out of absence—but intention.

I went to the church.
I lit a candle—not just for myself,
but for everyone my heart still carries.

I whispered the names of two men who shaped my world:
Joseph Blessing, my father—whose wisdom still echoes in my soul.
James Tinashe, my brother—whose laughter still dances in my memory.

I asked God to hold you both in peace.
To surround you with light where the pain can no longer touch.
To remind you that I am still here,
still fighting, still loving,
and still carrying your names forward
as symbols of strength, endurance, and faith.

I walked by the river,
because sometimes, prayer needs no words—
only footsteps that say: I remember. I honour. I am healing.

And though I couldn’t be part of the family thanksgiving today,
I gave thanks in my own way:
For the love we had,
For the lessons you left,
And for the quiet presence I still feel,
every time I close my eyes.

✨ Prayer

Dear Lord,
Thank You for my father, Joseph Blessing,
And my brother, James Tinashe.
Let their souls rest in Your eternal embrace.
Let peace be their breath and joy be their song.
And let me walk this life knowing they are with You—and with me.

In every candle I light,
In every prayer I whisper,
In every river I walk beside—
Let their names be lifted
and their love be remembered.

Amen.

Even When the World Doubts Us

From the woman who rose, resisted, and rebuilt

There are moments in life where the world will question your worth.
Moments when doors close quietly.
When systems fail loudly.
When even the ones who love you can’t understand your storm.

And in those moments?

You must remember this:

Even when the world doubts us,
we must never doubt ourselves.

For within us lies the strength to RISE,
the courage to RESIST,
and the divine fire to REBUILD.

I know what it feels like to be doubted.
To be displaced. Disregarded. Disbelieved.

I’ve been called everything but powerful.
I’ve had my truth questioned.
My safety stripped.
My voice silenced.

And yet — I rise.

Not because the world gave me permission,
but because my soul gave me no other choice.

This blog is for:

• The woman walking through fire with no one watching

• The man rebuilding from the rubble they left him in

• The survivor who’s not just healing — but roaring

You are not broken.
You are becoming.
And the doubt they cast on you will only reflect the glory that’s coming.

So let them doubt.
Let them underestimate.
Let them write you off.

Because when you RISE —
they’ll have no choice but to rewrite the narrative.

📣 To everyone in pain, in process, in prayer:

Hold your head high.

You were never the weak one.
You were the warrior in the waiting.

And your rebuild?

It’s going to shake the very ground they buried you in.

Keep rising.
Keep resisting.
Keep rebuilding.

Your legacy is louder than their doubt.
And your time is now.

With all my heart,
🕊️
Samantha

Do Your Worst — I’ll Still Rise”

🎓 For every system that tried to fail me

Do your worst.
Break the locks.
Steal the keys.
Call me every name except the woman I am destined to be.

Push me to the margins.
 Hand me your silence like a sentence.
 Wrap your robes in power and call it justice —
 I’ll still rise.

Do your worst.
Strip me of comfort.
Leave me to sleep in steel and shame.
Let the rain write verses on my windscreen.
I’ll turn every storm into scripture.

Because I’m not just surviving —
I’m studying.
I’m scripting.
I’m building a dissertation in resilience —
And when it’s done?

I will pass.
With honours.
With power.
With a high-level degree in divine defiance.

You underestimated the girl with no roof.
But I’ve got a temple for a backbone
And a gospel in my chest.
You wrote me off —
But I edited the ending.

You tried to fail me…
But I am the syllabus now.
And every breath I take?
That’s a distinction.

So go ahead.
Do your worst.
Because I?
I will still graduate from this fire — a woman of war and wisdom.

And they’ll hand me no robe…
But I’ll walk in glory anyway.

To Those Challenged This Palm Sunday: A Message of Hope

By Samantha Avril-Andreassen
Homeless, Not Defeated

If you are hurting right now…
If you are in the middle of something you can’t even put into words…
If you are fighting to hold your voice, your dignity, your peace…
I see you.
And more than that — God sees you.

Today is Palm Sunday —
the beginning of a road that looked like celebration…
but held sorrow.
A road that was loud with praise…
but would soon grow silent.

And still, He walked.

So if today you are carrying pain that no one understands…
If the road ahead feels long and lonely…
Walk anyway.
Even if your knees shake.
Even if your voice cracks.
Even if the palms aren't laid down for you just yet.

Because your journey is not for nothing.
The same God who wept is the one who rose.
And the same power that raised Him lives in you.

This is not the end of your story.
It’s the part they’ll talk about when they say:
“She kept walking.
She kept believing.
She didn’t give up — and that was her victory.”

So to every heart breaking quietly,
To every soul walking through fire,
To every woman building herself back piece by piece —

You are not alone.
You are not forgotten.
And you are not finished.

This moment is not your forever.
It’s your becoming.

With you in spirit,
🕊️
Samantha

Palm Sunday — I Walk Anyway

🕊️ By Samantha Avril-Andreassen
🌿 Homeless, Not Defeated

Today is Palm Sunday.

The day they laid branches on the ground — not for a king in gold, but for a man riding a donkey.
A man who knew betrayal was waiting…
and still walked forward.

And this morning, I’m reminded:
That’s what I’ve been doing, too.

I’ve walked through eviction, courtrooms, car parks, and riverbanks.
I’ve walked through pain, silence, disbelief.
I’ve walked alone when the world seemed to stop watching.
But like Him — I walk anyway.

Because the road to healing is sacred.
And even when they don’t lay palms down for you…
Even when they block your voice, close the doors, erase your name…
You walk anyway.

Today, I hold space for the God that still sees me.
For the swans that keep showing up as signs.
For the courage to walk — not with certainty,
but with purpose.
With power.
With prophetic breath in my chest.

So if you're reading this —
Know this:
Your road doesn’t have to be perfect.
It just has to be yours.

And whether you're riding a donkey or crying in silence —
You're still walking toward something divine.

This is what Palm Sunday means to me now:
🌿 A journey walked with sacred defiance
🌿 A pain carried with grace
🌿 A woman choosing to rise, over and over again

🕊️ I may be homeless… but I am not defeated.
I am walking.
And that is holy.

With love,
Samantha
www.samanthavrilandreassen.com

✨ Samantha’s Warrior Prayer – For the Women Who Rise ✨

This prayer was born from fire. From the silence of homelessness, the sting of injustice, the tears that no one saw. It is for the women who have been told they don’t belong. For the ones who were erased, forgotten, removed from the room. It is for those who are fighting to be heard, to be housed, to be healed.

You are not alone. This is your prayer too.

Heavenly Father,

Ancestors who walk with me,

Spirit of truth and justice — hear me now.

I rise tonight not in fear, but in fire.

I am a diamond — forged under pressure, tested by trials, and still unbroken.

They may have won battles against me, but they will not win this war.

Because I am the war.

I am the voice they tried to silence, now rising with thunder in my chest.

Let my tears become ink.

Let my pain become power.

Let my truth pour from my lips and land on every courtroom floor like judgment.

I am not alone.

My father watches me with pride.

My ancestors wrap their strength around my shoulders.

And my God — the same God who raised Jesus from the grave — is raising me with Him.

This little Black woman — they underestimated her.

But I am not to be played with.

I walk with authority.

I move with purpose.

And I will not bow to fear or silence again.

Let the earth shift beneath my feet.

Let the walls shake.

Let my voice crack the silence and bring light to the darkness.

Because I am not the victim.

I am the reckoning.

Amen.

Written by Samantha Avril-Andreassen

For every woman who has been displaced, dismissed, or doubted.

You are powerful. You are rising. And you are not alone.

When the System Fails to See You

Poverty Is an Injustice We Must—and Can—Overcome
 Inspired by the words of Nelson Mandela and the lived experience of Samantha Avril-Andreassen

“Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity, it is an act of justice.”
 — Nelson Mandela

Poverty is more than economic hardship—it is systemic exclusion, a stripping away of dignity, safety, and belonging. It is a manifestation of injustice. For some, it comes quietly through generational inequality. For others, it is weaponized with violence, intentionally orchestrated through misuse of systems that should have protected them.

I know this, because I have lived it.

When the System Fails to See You

On 24 February 2025, I was evicted from the home I owned and maintained—a home with a mortgage solely in my name. Despite the legal reality that my ex-husband had no home rights and was not on the mortgage, a court order empowered him to sell our home. This was not justice. It was erasure.

It was not just a home that was taken—it was my sanctuary, my security, and my identity as a mother, survivor, and Black woman. The court failed to recognize the very real trauma I endured and the abuse I survived. My homelessness wasn’t a result of poverty in the traditional sense—it was the result of a weaponized legal system, manipulated by someone determined to erase me.

And now, I find myself in a place where none of my rights stand. My voice was silenced. My presence—dismissed. My truth—ignored. In a system that claims justice, I was made invisible.

Poverty Is Not Just a Lack of Resources—It’s a Lack of Protection

When we speak of poverty, we must recognize its many faces. It is not always the result of idleness or chance. Sometimes, it is deliberately inflicted. A tool of control. A punishment for surviving abuse. A silencing mechanism.

I was driven into homelessness not because I failed—but because the law failed me.

Because I am a Black woman who dared to speak up, who dared to survive, who dared to rebuild. Because I didn’t fit into the neat boxes of how systems expect victims to behave. Because the courts still don’t fully understand coercive control, post-separation abuse, or the intersections of race, gender, and trauma.

We Can—and Must—Do Better

Poverty and homelessness are not inevitable. They are created—and what is created can be dismantled and rebuilt.

We must build a world where:

• Survivors of domestic abuse are protected—not punished.

• Legal systems recognize coercive control and racial injustice as urgent, intertwined crises.

• Housing is treated not as a luxury, but as a human right.

• Black women are believed, supported, and protected.

• No one is made homeless by the hands of an abuser with the blessing of a broken system.

My Pain Is Not Just Mine

I share my story not for sympathy, but for solidarity. Because there are too many others like me. Too many silenced. Too many displaced. Too many made poor through injustice, not inadequacy.

I share my truth because Nelson Mandela’s vision is not a dream of the past—it is a call to action for the present.

From Surviving to Thriving—Together

I believe in a world where justice is not blind to trauma. Where the law protects the vulnerable instead of empowering the oppressor. I believe in a world where poverty is not a punishment, but a problem we come together to solve.

Poverty is not just about economics—it is about power, race, and justice. It is about reclaiming humanity in systems that have lost sight of it.

And together, with compassion, action, and unwavering belief in dignity, we can build a world where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.

#PovertyIsInjustice #SurvivorJustice #EndHomelessness #NelsonMandela #StillHere #BlackWomenDeserveJustice #TogetherWeRise

Poverty Is an Injustice We Must—and Can—Overcome

“Overcoming poverty is not a gesture of charity, it is an act of justice. It is the protection of a fundamental human right, the right to dignity and a decent life.”
 — Nelson Mandela

Poverty isn’t just a lack of income—it’s a lack of opportunity, access, voice, safety, and hope. It affects billions of lives globally, stripping people of basic human rights and the ability to dream beyond survival. And while poverty is complex, systemic, and deeply entrenched, it is not inevitable.

Poverty Is a Violation of Human Dignity

When Nelson Mandela spoke of poverty as an injustice, he reframed it not as a matter of charity, but of human rights and equity. No one chooses to be poor. Often, it's the result of circumstances beyond an individual’s control—cycles of violence, colonization, poor governance, inequality, discrimination, and lack of access to education, healthcare, housing, and fair work opportunities.

To accept poverty is to accept a world where a child goes to bed hungry while others live in excess; where dreams die early not due to lack of talent or drive, but due to lack of access. That should never be acceptable.

Together, We Can Build a Better World

It’s easy to feel helpless in the face of such a massive issue. But change begins with action—yours, mine, ours together.

• Educate Yourself and Others
   Understanding poverty’s root causes is the first step. It’s not just about income, but systems. Learn about structural inequality, policy gaps, and what communities are doing to lift themselves up.

• Support Empowerment-Based Initiatives
   Charity has its place, but empowerment goes further. Support programs and organizations that focus on education, job training, mental health, affordable housing, and micro-enterprise development.

• Use Your Voice and Vote
   Speak up for policies that address economic inequality, protect workers, and expand healthcare and education. Elect leaders who prioritize people over profit.

• Engage Locally
   Volunteer at shelters, food banks, or mentorship programs. Small, consistent action in your own community can create ripples of transformation.

• Listen to Those With Lived Experience
   The best solutions come from the people who have experienced poverty firsthand. Elevate their voices, advocate for their leadership, and never assume you know better than they do about their own lives.

A World Where Everyone Thrives

Mandela believed in the possibility of a just world. So must we.

We envision a world where every person has access to safe shelter, nutritious food, meaningful work, and the freedom to pursue their dreams—not just to survive, but to thrive. A world where no one is forgotten. A world where no one is left behind.

This vision is not naïve—it’s necessary.

Let’s Choose Justice

Eradicating poverty will take bold vision, collaboration, and relentless compassion. But we owe it to each other—and to generations yet to come—to try. Not as an act of charity, but as a commitment to justice, dignity, and shared humanity.

Together, we can build a world where everyone has the opportunity to thrive.

#PovertyIsInjustice #EndPoverty #NelsonMandela #SocialJustice #HopeInAction #HumanDignity #TogetherWeRise

Fully Known, Deeply Loved: Restoration Through Psalm 139

There was a time in my life when I felt unseen. Unheard. Forgotten.

I stood in a courtroom as the system failed to protect me. I watched as the home I had nurtured became a battleground. I was silenced in spaces that were meant to uphold justice, and the pain of abuse, betrayal, and displacement echoed louder than my voice could reach.

But even in that silence — God heard me.
 Even in that darkness — God saw me.
 Even in that brokenness — God loved me.

And Psalm 139 became a lifeline.

A God Who Knows Every Part of Us

“O Lord, You have searched me and known me.
 You know when I sit down and when I rise up;
 You discern my thoughts from afar.”
 (Psalm 139:1–2)

When trauma robs you of your sense of identity, Psalm 139 tenderly reminds you: you are deeply known by the Creator Himself.

In the aftermath of domestic abuse, I questioned everything — my worth, my strength, even my reality. Gaslighting had distorted the truth so much that I felt like a ghost in my own story. But this psalm met me where I was — in fear, confusion, and survival mode — and whispered a gentle truth:

“I know you, child. You are not invisible to Me.”

While I was being evicted from the very house I was paying for, while my voice was lost in legal battles, and while trauma threatened to reduce me to silence — God reminded me that He saw the whole picture. He saw the injustices. He saw the tears cried behind closed doors. He saw me.

There’s Nowhere You Can Go That God Won’t Follow

“Where shall I go from Your Spirit?
 Or where shall I flee from Your presence?
 If I make my bed in Sheol, You are there!”
 (Psalm 139:7–8)

When I was forced from my home and left to face homelessness, I felt abandoned. I was physically displaced — but emotionally? Spiritually? I was wandering in a wilderness.

And yet… God was there.
 Not just in the peaceful moments — but right there in the chaos.

Psalm 139 reassures us that there’s no depth too dark for God’s presence. Whether in a hospital bed, a courtroom, a temporary shelter, or a tear-stained pillow — God is not afraid to sit with us in the lowest places.

For survivors of abuse, this is a revelation. Because trauma isolates. Shame tells you that you’re too broken, too messy, too complicated for anyone — even God — to stay close. But this scripture cancels that lie completely.

God doesn’t walk away when we’re at our lowest. He draws even closer.

You Were Not a Mistake — You Were Made for More

“For You formed my inward parts;
 You knitted me together in my mother’s womb.
 I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.”
 (Psalm 139:13–14)

The abuse I endured tried to strip me of identity. I was reduced to labels: victim, woman, mother, problem. The court order that forced me out of my home didn’t see me as a human being with a heartbeat and a story. But God did.

Psalm 139 reminds us that we are not defined by what was done to us, but by Who created us.

Even through years of trauma, I began to reclaim what had been buried:
 My creativity.
 My resilience.
 My purpose.
 My voice.

And from the ashes of that pain, SJ Interior Designs, Home Fix Boutique, and my books — Silent Screams, Loud Strength and The Little Voice That Roared — were born. These are not just projects. They are sacred declarations of survival. They are evidence that the woman the world tried to break is still here — building, writing, and healing not only for herself but for others.

Search Me, Lead Me, Restore Me

“Search me, O God, and know my heart!
 Try me and know my thoughts!
 And see if there be any grievous way in me,
 and lead me in the way everlasting!”
 (Psalm 139:23–24)

This final verse is not a plea of guilt — it is an invitation. An invitation for God to continue the healing process. To sift through the rubble and reveal beauty again.

In my own healing journey — through journaling, meditation, therapy, prayer, and reflection — I have come to understand that restoration is not an instant destination. It is a daily surrender. A daily trust that God is still leading me, even when I don’t know what tomorrow looks like.

And today, I offer that same truth to you:
 You are not too far gone.
 You are not too broken.
 You are not what happened to you.
 You are who God is lovingly restoring you to become.

A Reflection for You

If you are in a place where the world feels loud but you feel voiceless — Psalm 139 is for you.

If you’ve been displaced, discarded, devalued — Psalm 139 is for you.

If you are rebuilding from the ruins of trauma — Psalm 139 is your anthem of hope.

You are fully known. You are deeply loved.
 And your healing is holy.

Thoughts

Psalm 139 has become more than a passage in my Bible — it’s a truth I now live and breathe. When systems fail, God does not. When others forget, He remembers. And when we fall apart, He doesn’t leave — He restores.

This is the heartbeat of my story. And if you’re reading this, maybe it’s yours too.

 Journal Prompt:

How does knowing that you are fully known and deeply loved by God change the way you see your trauma — and your healing?

From Struggle to Strength: Finding Healing and Restoration in Psalm 106

When we walk through the valleys of life, it can often feel like we’re surrounded by darkness, lost in the weight of past struggles and traumas. Yet, just as the psalmist in Psalm 106 recounts the history of Israel’s failures and God's unwavering faithfulness, so too does our journey reflect the same story of hardship, redemption, and restoration.

A Journey of Struggles and Failures

Psalm 106 is a powerful reminder of how Israel repeatedly failed to trust in God’s goodness, forgetting the mighty works He had done and turning to idolatry and sin. The psalm recounts a history of mistakes, rebellion, and the suffering that followed. Yet, it also powerfully emphasizes the enduring love and mercy of God, even when His people did not deserve it.

For many of us, including myself, the road to healing can feel much the same. It’s a road filled with pain, confusion, and moments when we feel as though we’ve fallen short. I have faced deep struggles in my own life—trauma, domestic abuse, homelessness—and there were times when I questioned if I would ever find my way out. Much like Israel, there were moments when I felt lost, unable to see the way forward. But just as the psalmist’s story of God’s faithfulness continues, so does my story of healing and the unwavering love that carries me forward.

God’s Faithfulness Despite Our Failures

In Psalm 106, despite the repeated failures of Israel, God’s faithfulness shines through. Even when His people rebelled, His mercy was never far. He delivered them time and time again, not because they deserved it, but because of His steadfast love.

This truth resonates deeply with my own journey. There were times when I felt unworthy of God's love and mercy—especially in the aftermath of the abuse and loss I endured. Yet, in those moments of despair, I found God’s faithfulness waiting for me, offering me grace when I thought I had none left. His love and mercy have been a constant thread throughout my journey. I’ve witnessed it not only in my own healing but also in the lives of others I’ve been able to touch through my work.

Through my podcast, Silent Screams, Loud Strength, and my books, I have found my voice again. The strength I never thought I had has emerged from the depths of my pain, not because I am strong on my own, but because of the unwavering faithfulness of God.

A Prayer for Redemption and Restoration

The psalmist ends Psalm 106 with a heartfelt plea for God to remember His covenant and deliver His people. It’s a cry for redemption, for restoration, and for God to bring healing in the midst of brokenness.

For those of us who have endured trauma, the plea for restoration resonates deeply. I have cried out to God many times, asking for restoration—for my home, my peace, and my sense of self. Just like the Israelites, I have found that God hears my prayers. He sees my brokenness and does not abandon me. The same God who delivered Israel time and time again is the God who is restoring my life, piece by piece.

Through this journey, I have seen first-hand that restoration doesn’t always happen overnight. It’s a process, sometimes slow and filled with challenges. But in this process, God is at work. I am constantly reminded that I am not defined by my past but by the person I am choosing to become.

Gratitude for God’s Unfailing Love

As the psalm concludes, there’s an overwhelming sense of gratitude for God’s mercy. The Israelites, despite their unfaithfulness, are reminded of God’s eternal love and His enduring promises. This gratitude is a thread that runs through my healing journey as well.

When I reflect on my past struggles, I don’t just see pain and loss—I also see the fingerprints of God’s love and faithfulness that have carried me through. His mercy has brought me here, to a place where I can stand and speak my truth, where I can help others find their own strength, and where I can offer healing to those who have experienced similar struggles.

Psalm 106 reminds us that even in our deepest despair, we are not abandoned. God's love is constant, His mercy unyielding, and His promises ever true. And just as God delivered Israel, He is also delivering us—restoring our brokenness and leading us into the future He has prepared.

A Journey of Healing and Hope

Through the pain of my past, I have found hope. Psalm 106 gives me the courage to keep moving forward, to embrace the healing process with faith, and to trust that God will continue to restore what was lost. My story is not defined by my past struggles but by my journey of healing, which is ongoing—just as the psalmist’s story of redemption continues.

If you find yourself in the midst of struggle, whether it’s the aftermath of abuse, loss, or any form of trauma, know this: You are not alone. Just as God was faithful to the Israelites, He is faithful to you. His mercy is endless, and He is always at work, bringing restoration and healing.

As we reflect on Psalm 106, let it be a reminder that God’s love never fails. He is with us in our brokenness, He is with us in our healing, and He is leading us toward a future of restoration. You are not defined by your past—you are defined by who you choose to become, and God is walking beside you every step of the way.

Healing Begins with Remembering

Take time to remember God’s faithfulness in your own life. Let Psalm 106 be a reminder that despite the struggles, God’s love and mercy are waiting to embrace you and carry you toward healing. Just as the Israelites were restored, so too will you be restored. And in the process, you will find the strength to rise, to heal, and to help others do the same