Spill the Cafécito — My Testimony.

I grew up in the Bronx, NY, in a big, vibrant Puerto Rican and Dominican family filled with generations of imperfect but resilient people. As a little girl, I had big dreams, but life took an unexpected and devastating turn when I was just 5 years old. During a daddy-daughter vacation in the Dominican Republic, I lost my father in a tragic car accident. That moment shattered my world, including my relationship with God.

Growing up, I often heard stories of people encountering Jesus. To me, it sounded mysterious and impossible. I couldn’t understand why anyone would want to have a personal relationship with God. The version of God I knew growing up was harsh and unapproachable. Raised in a strict religious environment, I was taught that even the smallest sin would lead to hell. Asking questions was considered disrespectful, and confessing your wrongs felt like a prerequisite to being heard. God seemed like a distant judge rather than a loving Father, and no matter how much I prayed or tried to be good, I felt like I could never measure up. So, I walked away.

For years, I lived life on my own terms. I partied, indulged in my desires, smoked, drank, and treated others the way I thought they deserved. My feelings and impulses ruled my decisions, leaving me broken, insecure, angry, and searching for validation in all the wrong places. The big plans I had as a little girl—dreams of a romantic engagement, a beautiful wedding, a big family, and a home—came crashing down. I couldn’t see life beyond my pain. My trauma, both inflicted by others and caused by my own decisions, clouded my vision and hardened my heart. It wasn’t until years later, through therapy, that I began to understand the truth: I was angry—not just at life, but at God.

In 2017, a year after giving birth to my son, a friend invited me to a Women’s Weekend Conference. I didn’t know it at the time, but that weekend would change my life forever. For the first time, I heard about a Heavenly Father who loved His children—not one who wanted to punish them but one who wanted to bless them, save them, and bring them into His Kingdom.

That weekend, I surrendered my life to God—not because I fully believed, but because I was ready to let go of the life I had been clinging to. I’ll share more about the difference between surrender and belief another time, but in that moment, I experienced something I had never known: love, grace, and community. I was surrounded by women who wanted to nurture, empower, and uplift one another. It was foreign to me. Growing up in New York City, survival mode was all I knew. But in the arms of Jesus and the company of those women, I felt something shift.

Since that moment, Jesus has never let go of my hand, and I’ve come to understand that even in my anger and brokenness, He was always there. He never abandoned me. He never stopped loving me. And He has never stopped longing for me to come back home.

I want to share my journey—not just to inspire but to show others that it’s okay to be angry, to wrestle with doubt, and to question God. He is big enough to handle all of it. My prayer is that through my testimony, you’ll see how faithful, loving, and patient He is, and that you’ll find encouragement to take your first steps toward healing and restoration in Him.