My Freedom Story

It was early in the morning on December 28, 2016. This was the anniversary of my mother’s passing, which was a tough day every year, but this one felt especially painful as it marked 25 years — a quarter of a century — since we lost her to Leukemia. I was only 7 years old when she died, and now I was a 32-year old mother of 3 without a mom to shop with, laugh with, call for advice, or see with my husband and kids. I felt robbed.

I decided to take the dog for a walk down to a small secluded beach behind our neighborhood to get away and hear my own thoughts for a bit. Tears welled up as I stood and stared out at the gulf, thinking about all of the things I’d missed out on over those 25 years. The feeling in my heart matched the gray clouds that hovered over the water.

(I even snapped this photo because it matched so well.)

I felt sad and alone — not because I didn’t have people around me who loved me — but because I was holding those people at an arm’s length out of fear that I’d lose them, too. As a result, I felt deprived of connection and normalcy. I felt like I was going through the motions without really living. 

“This SUCKS!” I angrily called out through the tears as my bare feet stepped through the cold, wet sand. 

 My words met the horizon and evaporated into the morning mist. 

Then a quiet but strikingly clear voice replied in my mind and literally stopped me in my tracks. 



 “25 years is a long enough sentence,” it lovingly directed. 
“…You can walk free.”



I stood there, stunned. 

Sunlight peeked through the clouds, and those words did the same in my heart, flowing into the tiny cracks and offering truth to those lonely feelings I’d been carrying for all of those years. 

(I even snapped another photo because – again – it matched so well.)



I then saw in my mind a pathetic image of myself curled up in the corner of a dark and damp prison cell, dressed in tattered rags and wrapped in chains, next to a feeding bowl with a tiny bit of water in it. 

My attention turned to the door. The cell bars were slid wide open. I looked back at my malnourished body, and noticed that the lock on my chains was undone. 

I was only trapped there because I hadn’t walked free. 

Tears welled up in my eyes again, but this time out of astonished gratitude rather than anger or pain.

I knew that the voice was right. 

Feeling the sunlight on my face, I took a huge breath of ocean air and made a choice. I would accept the freedom that had been granted to me long ago. 

I would no longer stay in that damp, dark corner. I would stand up and let those chains fall to the ground, then walk through the cell door and LIVE.

(See? I even wrote it down in my notebookl!)

The instant feeling of relief and joy I felt in that moment was indescribable. The darkness was gone. I really was free.

This experience set off a series of beautiful changes in my life, as I opened myself to this truth — that I no longer needed to suffer because of something terrible that happened in my past. I could accept the fact that the sentence really had been served, because of my Savior’s atoning sacrifice. 

Because of Him, I could love, connect, laugh, create, and grow with freedom. 

-----

Now, I won’t say that from that powerful epiphany everything changed completely and I never felt those feelings ever again. Sitting in a damp, dark cell for so long definitely required some rehab. 

Slowly but surely, I learned to walk upright and adjust my eyes to the light again. When I’d find myself back in that corner, I learned to choose freedom again and again. That process brought some very useful lessons from a loving and very patient God. That’s what I’m teaching next, in the form of the Freedom Resort -- a digital destination to help people find their own freedom and answer the call to "something bigger." You can join the Beta group if you'd like to see it come to life. Click here for more info. 

This project is where I share the lessons and tools that I’ve learned along my journey of embracing this freedom with the help of a loving Father in Heaven and my Savior, Jesus Christ.

You may not have lost a parent at a young age like I did, but I know you’ve been through something hard. We all have. It's time to rest from the burden of carrying all of it. Then, when you’re ready, fully accept and own your freedom. It doesn't take the hurt away, but it sure allows you to enjoy the sunrises and sunsets again.

Thanks for reading to this point, friend. I’m so happy you’re here.
 

To Freedom,
Shalon Ironroad
Founder, Freedom Resort