Blog #freedom in christ

Noemi Padilla

Nurse and Client Support Specialist with

And Then There Were None (ATTWN)

These are the scriptures that have spoken deeply to Noemi's heart and the resources that she shared. 

Noemi shared her testimony on Truth, Talk & Testimonies

Noemi, please share your testimony. You told me that you were a Christian but backslid. Can you tell me what happened?

I grew up in a very Christian family—I like to say I’ve been a Christian since I was six months old. We left Puerto Rico and came to the United States, and my entire family attended the same church. I grew up there and formed lifelong friendships with friends who shared my cribs in the nursery. So, I had a strong Christian upbringing.

My Christianity—my religion and my life—were two separate things growing up. Again, my grandmother planted amazing seeds, teaching us to count on and trust God. Despite being raised in the church, I had a tumultuous upbringing. I used to think that anybody who was a Christian or member of a church was perfect, but God is the only perfect one, and we’re all sinners. Churches are hospitals for sinners. Unfortunately, there was abuse on multiple levels, even within the church. Growing up in this environment made me angry. If someone is dealing with this in every aspect of their life, told God is good, you begin to question where God is during all this horrible stuff. There was physical abuse, there was sexual abuse, drugs, and alcoholism. There was so much. Thankfully, I was never angry at God.

When I was old enough to make my own decisions, I was making terrible choices instead of making wise decisions, and I became sexually active and promiscuous. During my backslidden years, I believed in God, but I was trying to survive. Amidst everything, I got pregnant at seventeen. Getting pregnant was a big fork in the road as I was about to graduate high school and attend college. For me, the only way out of my upbringing and life living in the ghetto was an excellent education, and this was always super important to me. Despite having terrible attendance, I managed to maintain straight A’s in my studies. I remember I found out a month and a half before my high school graduation and found out on a fluke because I wasn’t even in tune with my body. One morning, after eating two scrambled eggs, I fell gravely ill. I shared my pregnancy news, and my friend suggested I schedule an abortion. That’s how casual and the norm it is—you get pregnant, and the solution is to have an abortion. 

We got a hold of a pregnancy test, and I was pregnant—she wasn’t wrong. From there, I embarked on this mission to get an abortion. I was underage at seventeen, so I took my own Medicaid card from my mom’s bag because I dared not ask her, “Hey, Mom—can I have my insurance card to have an abortion?”. So I grabbed my card and took a bus to the abortion clinic—I remember the location of the abortion clinic—I remember that it was on the 5th floor, and when I got there, somebody took some blood work and some urine. A while later, she comes to me and says, “You’re seventeen, and you’re pregnant with twins—it’s a twin pregnancy.”. At that moment, I felt disconnected from everything and asked, “What did that mean?“ Is it still possible to perform the procedure today?” She responded that it could be done, but it will be more money. I didn’t care if it cost more because I wasn’t paying for it. After all, they put the charge on my insurance card back then. They charged my insurance, and not once did they ask if my legal guardian was there since I was underage. A little while later, she returned to tell me that I was very far along and in the second trimester of pregnancy. Again, I asked, does this mean we can’t do this today? She responded, We can. Nothing was sinking in because, at this point, I was in survival mode. I was trying to come to terms with everything—it was either having babies and getting married and going through another cycle, another generation of this. I pictured having the abortion as a breakaway to go to college and do the best that I can do.

They did the procedure, and I don’t remember much after that other than when I woke up; they said that I was screaming, but you have to get up and go home now. And so, I said okay, and then they asked if somebody was there to pick me up, and I lied and said, “Yeah, my boyfriend is downstairs.”. They responded, “Okay, goodbye,” and gave me some antibiotics. I hobbled to the bus to go back home and remembered that I had almost made it all the way home, but I became sick around four blocks from where I needed to get off the bus. Now, as a nurse, I know that’s the anesthesia and the motion sickness. When I got off the bus, which happened to be in front of my dad’s job, I started throwing up. Somebody told him that his daughter was across the street and she was sick. When my dad walked across the street, I remember panicking, and he asked what was wrong with me. I told him that I must have a stomach flu. He told me to stop it and walk home, which I did. I can’t even tell you that I took the pills they gave me—I boxed my abortion up, put it away, and graduated high school. I went to college and thought I was living a good life, but I was making horrible decisions. 

Was it after college that you started your nursing career?

Yes, I went to college, graduated from nursing school, and started my nursing career. I remember that my first nursing job was at this well-to-do and posh hospital in the Bronx, and supplies were plentiful, so it was a good nursing experience. I did that for about 8 years, and then I went to a city hospital because I wanted to experience both sides, so I went into community medicine at a city hospital and got to see the other side of nursing where you were struggling to keep your patients alive and enjoyed this experience so much more because I felt like I was giving back to my community and felt what nursing is all about. Fast forward–911 happened, and I didn’t want to live in the city anymore, so I moved out to Florida, which was one block away from the abortion clinic where I worked, so I knew very well what was being done there. Still, it didn't bother me because I had an abortion myself, and I was extremely pro-choice at that time. The way I perceived it was that my abortion saved my life when I was seventeen, so I want to go in there and help woman–I want to help save their lives and give them what was given to me, and I think that it’s a key point because one of our phrases that we like to share a lot is that no one grows up wanting to work in an abortion clinic. For instance, in my nursing school and clinical, we were excited to do OB, and no one said, “Yes, let me go work at an abortion clinic.” 

I wanted to give back and help women, and it was super convenient for me because it was a block away from where I lived, and I could walk to work if I wanted. As a former New Yorker, I didn’t have a driver's license at the time–it was like the perfect picture of everything. So I walked in one day after getting off my night shift at my previous job and asked the girl at the front desk if they were hiring. They asked what I do, and I told them that I was a nurse, so they got the executive director. She asked if I had time to interview her immediately because she needed a nurse. We went into a room to talk, and she said I would be a great fit there. From the beginning, she uplifted me, and I’m a former New Yorker–don’t schmooze me, you know. She saw it wasn’t working for me, so she said, “Let me introduce you to our doctor, a New York transplant. She's a former New Yorker.” I said fine, so she introduced me to her, and immediately we meshed–there were many connections. We discovered that we ate Chinese food in the same circle, worked at the same hospital, and had the same work ethic. The next thing you know, I was told that working there would be a good fit, and I thought so.

Then, I was asked if I could start that day because they needed me. I said no because I told her I smelled–I was working at the jail, and jails have a distinct smell because they have a closed ventilation system. I picked up on the nonverbal communication between them, which I came to learn about quickly. And she goes, “Well, you know, we'll offer you a $500 sign-on bonus if you can start right now.” They see where the need is and how they can grasp you, and they see that that would get me. Who doesn’t like $500 dollars? In my mind, I said this is a piece of cake, and $500 dollars can’t hurt. The executive director then took out $500 and paid me–I didn’t even need to wait before the shift was over. About a couple of hours into the shift, I noticed that the support staff was very excited I asked them what they were excited about, and they said that they met the quota and they were going to get lunch that day and if we saw two more patients, we’re going to get the good lunch. I asked them what they were talking about, and they shared that every time we see 12 patients, they buy lunch for us, and if we see 24 patients, we get to get Chinese food instead of pizza or sandwiches. And I'm like, OK, so a little while later, they came up to me and said they would get Chinese food, and what did I want? That didn't seem right to me, so I told them no–I’m okay. The doctor then insisted I get something because I was there all day and needed to eat something. And that’s how they pull you in further. Then, I took out my cell phone which was pretty old, and the doctor noticed and said, “Girl, that phone is ancient. You cannot have that phone to represent us. We'll get you a new phone”. 

Now, let’s look at the whole picture–I got a $500 sign-on bonus, and I was told that every day, if we met the quota, we got free lunch, they were going to buy me a new phone, work was close to home, I could help women–I should’ve caught on quickly, that this was out of the norm. You don't go into any job or hospital and have all these things given to you, but we don't think that clearly when you're being given all these gifts or when you're being given $500 on the spot. So, I started my four years there, and this was just an indication of what life would be like there, in a short amount of time, it was me saying to the support staff–Hold on, you're having a bad day, let's get some dessert or, you know, just everything was compensated–we fixed it–whatever it took to keep the flow and keep the peace and the patients circulating. 

About two months later, they told me I was ready to learn about the sonogram room. I’ve been a nurse for a long time but haven't attended sonography school. They told me that they were going to teach me, and the owner at the time told me she was going to take me under her wing. I thought she must have gone to sonogram school, but she didn’t even have medical assistance credentialing. Yet, she performed the sonograms and taught others how to perform sonograms.

But again, that evil part of us gets uplifted quickly, and they say you can do this, and before you know it, it becomes a challenge for me. I had to perfect sonograms, which became my next milestone. I kept doing sonograms until they were terrific, and I began getting kudos. I got a new Michael Kors bag, and the doctors were so happy with me, and all was well. But throughout all this, we're still performing abortions–We're still treating women horribly–and still an assembly line. Then, the executive director had an accident; she fell, and she got hurt and was going to be out for a long time. The owner called me, saying, “I have a job offer for you. Do you want to be the interim executive director? Because you can do this. You're the only one who can run this clinic.” I responded, “Absolutely not.” I have no desire to do anything other than nursing. And then she said, “Well, it comes with a big pay raise.” Once I heard about the salary, I changed my mind and told her I would do it. I clarified that I had free range to make decisions, and she said yes. So, I thought this was a good opportunity to fix some of the problems we had going on to give better patient care, have the young ladies in a medical professional environment, and, you know, things like that. Well, she fought me every step of the way. Anything that created a wave in her flow was an issue.

Throughout this, I had to hire several young ladies, which I did, and after about two years, I knew I couldn't do this anymore. It was horrendous. But I felt responsible for these young ladies that I had hired, and I had also seen when somebody left the abortion industry, how they get blacklisted and shunned worse than the Amish. It’s a cult-like environment. This family they claim to be so that we can all isolate and deal with each other. You become enemy number one when you have an opinion or step out of that circle. So, I felt responsible for these young ladies, and I told them I didn’t know how long I would be there, but if they wanted out to go talk to the crazy people on the sidewalk and see what they were about. Those were our sidewalk advocates for life and Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, and all prayer warriors were represented. I told them that I would give them good recommendations and see how they could help you out, and then they started quitting one by one like dominoes and having successful encounters with And Then There Were None. They were excited, genuinely cared for, and learned they were real and not horrible. 

We were in that process for about two years, and finally, one morning, I woke up and was so weary. While putting on my uniform, I said, “I couldn’t do this anymore.” Then I heard a voice say, “You don’t have to do this; you can quit.” I started to rationalize. They wouldn't have a nurse if I didn’t go to work. And then, I heard the voice again say, “You can just quit.” I knew it was God speaking to me, and it was the sign I needed, so I told Him I would quit. I called the doctor first and told him I was quitting today, and she said, “Here we go, What do you need? A Michael Kors bag, a few days off?” She wasn't a horrible person. She was just trying to please me in what I was possibly disgruntled over. Regardless of our credentials, we were all in the same cult-like environment. So I said no, I'm going to quit. She goes, all right, just come into the office, and we'll talk. So I got to the office and said, here’s the keys to your kingdom–I don’t want them anymore. The owner took the keys and said, “You’ll be back.” And I responded, “I would not be back”. It became a really bad interaction, but I grabbed my stethoscope and the magazine on my desk and walked away. 

I called my brother and asked him if we could go to the beach. He thought I was having a nervous breakdown, I said, no, let's just go to the beach. I sat at the shoreline by the water's edge and cried for eight hours. Every once in a while, my brother came to give me water and a sandwich. I begged God for forgiveness, and I remember telling Him I wasn’t worthy of this, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing tomorrow but knew what I couldn’t do today. And then, I called And Then There Were None, and it was such a beautiful thing because I remember that initial phone call so clearly. I said, “Hey, this is me, I'm from Tampa, Florida.” The person responded, “Wait a minute–Purple building on Fletcher Avenue. You?” 

My old abortion clinic was distinctively painted purple on purpose so that we could describe it to the patients–it’s the purple building–you can't miss us. So I said yes, that's me. And he said, “We have been praying for you for years.” God sent me the sign; I was now with the right people because they didn’t know me, but they knew me, had been praying for me, and weren’t holding anything against me. I felt instant peace. Abby Johnson’s ministry, And Then There Were None, is focused on ex-abortion workers in any way, shape, or form–It could be medical, it could be clerical, it could be male or female–We have male participants, we have had people who have, reached out to us who have picked up specimens from the abortion clinic. So, it's anyone who is in any way, shape, or form affiliated with or affected by an abortion clinic. 

In my personal redemption path, I trusted my God-seeds, planted so firmly that I trusted them, and knew that he forgave me. That part was so much easier for me than for me to forgive myself. I had already accepted His love. I knew I was redeemed, but I was still knocking myself, wondering how I did what I did, and I was stuck in that phase for a while. It’s a process–Not that you quit, and that’s it. You quit, and then we have different stages of healing, such as Healing Foundations 101 for those who have quit recently, and that’s our accountability weekend, where you have to come to terms with things. I used to say, “They did that”. I was saying this even though I no longer work there, and I’m separated from them. At my first healing retreat, I said this a few times. I said, “Wait a minute, I am they and took responsibility in this safe zone for it and completely broke down. I needed to come to terms with the fact that I participated in over 5,000 abortions. 

When we come to terms with I participated in over 5000 abortions, you know, when we lovingly go through this process where we try and put a number together–Not that it matters because life is life, but it's part of our healing process, and it’s way better for me to go through that with a group of women who are there loving me unconditionally then for me to go through that alone at 1:00 am so they understand. There’s a place for abortion workers to come safely where it's going to be nonjudgmental and unconditional–I promise you that nothing that they say that they've done has been said or done before. We're a unique group, and they can't shock us. The reason why I put my dirty laundry out there and wrongdoings and speak publicly is because if one person in the industry hears or sees a sister to someone who works in an abortion clinic–for me, it was my brother who was a chaplain who prayed for me every day when I was working there. He would call me, saying, “I’m praying for you.” We didn’t have any other conversation other than that for four years, and somebody else can hear it and say, wait, I want to pass this information forward to somebody who works in the abortion industry. 

The devil wants to keep you isolated and keep you having a facade. There is truth, light, and happiness in the world. Put the work in for your healing, and you can laugh and smile again–We do. 

Is there any other encouragement you can give to people?

Please contact any of the ministries mentioned if you are touched by any part of my testimony or anything you heard. And Then There Were None is super vital to both current and ex-abortion workers–we don’t care if you worked in an abortion clinic 25-30 years ago and never had healing because we know what it’s like to carry that burden. So please, any affiliation that you've ever had with any abortion clinic, reach out to us, it doesn't hurt. It's one phone call. You can text if you don't like what you hear, which hasn’t happened yet, but you don’t have to follow through. There’s help out there, and there’s a whole tribe waiting to love you unconditionally and help you get another smile on your face because we know how hard it is to look at ourselves in the mirror and smile. 

Abby Johnson, CEO + Founder

And Then There Were None (ATTWN)

****Text or call (888) 570-5501 to get started on the path to freedom outside the abortion industry**** 

Oasis Pregnancy Care Centers -- Five locations in Florida

Jayson Borawski

"So I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten," Joel 2:25

Jayson shared his testimony on a VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies broadcast. 

These are the questions that I asked Jayson during his interview on the VictoryEmbraced: Truth, Talk & Testimonies YouTube channel, and what he shared. 

Jason, please share about your childhood and how your upbringing affected your life.

I’ll start by sharing that my father served in World War II, and he faced a lot of problems—he consumed alcohol before going to war, but he developed into a serious alcoholic.

My mom and I rode out to California, and when we came home to an empty house, it was extremely tough. We moved further out in Montgomery County, and while we were out there, my mother married for a second time, and that marriage only lasted two years—my stepdad had 5 children—we had 4 in a very crowded house. My stepdad would beat my mom, so I witnessed my mother getting beaten and my biological dad falling drunk. The person my mother married a third time was a gambler. My mom was a psychiatric nurse and practiced nursing for 20 years. 

When we lived in Montgomery County, PA, my brother went into the service, my one sister moved to New York City and my other sister, who is just 4 years older than me, was very close; she became a heroin addict. This was back in the 60s so there weren’t many addicts around back then—maybe 20 in the whole area—and I knew all 20 of them, so I watched them shoot up, and one time I was watching this guy, and he was rocking back and forth, saying, “I got to get straight.” And, I thought to myself, if he wanted to get messed up... Why does he want to get straight? Then, I realized when they were sitting in the apartment, a few people went down to Philadelphia to get the drugs, and they came back, and we would shoot up the drugs. When I saw him all disheveled and disoriented after the shot of heroin, suddenly his countenance changed, and it was fine again, and I thought to myself, “I got to get straight.” That influenced me profoundly watching the change come over him to where that evening, at 12 years old, I went directly to shooting up heroin. Before this, I was smoking marijuana. People say that heroin is better than sex—I thought it was better than life because I didn’t like my life and if it were going to end, I would be fine with that, so I went on to use heroin and various drugs—I didn’t have a lot of money, so I had to steal, and I wasn’t good at it back then, so by the time I was 18, I went to prison. I spent a little time in prison, and when I got there, I realized that there were a lot of things—a lot of different crimes—I learned and was back in 1972, so all I learned in prison was how to make friends with criminals and how to do crimes without getting caught. So after I got out, I became very sophisticated. I would go to the library and I would research different crimes I could do and look at how much time I would have to serve in prison to determine if it was worth it—I wasn’t going to do a crime unless I could make a lot of money, so I started to get involved with forgeries and prescription writing and calling in prescriptions, which made a tremendous amount of money. I don’t want to disclose that—the statute of limitations is up; I don’t want to encourage people to get involved with it. My heroin addiction got bad, and I started losing everything—the people I love were gone, I couldn’t trust anybody, and it wore on me—I got very tired of it after 10 years, so I finally quit, married a girl I met even though I wasn’t prepared at all for marriage, and she was an alcoholic and I was a drug addict. I started taking pills because they were easier to get. It was cheaper. I could get a prescription, and I could sell the pills for an extraordinary price. When I was in Philadelphia, there was a guy who was the number one drug dealer, and he was selling Codeine Syrup and Doriden—it was a sleeping pill and I told him, Why don’t we get the Codeine pills? From this, we invented the thing called Combos in Philadelphia. And that became famous among the heroin addicts. I took a different mixture—I took amphetamines and codeine. The Codeine was to kill the pain, and that made me feel like a god—or like Superman. I had more energy to do more crime, and it was just one thing after another. We would have runners to get the prescriptions I wrote, and for each $6 prescription, we would make several hundred dollars. I then started to get involved in Speed, and Philadelphia was the Speed capital of the world—all the Speed that came into the United States was hubbed in Philadelphia—on every street corner; you can get methamphetamine, and when there was a federal laboratory that was robbed, my company got the Speed—it was pure methamphetamine, and we had to cut it down several times; it was still very powerful, and a lot of it went out to California. So, I was doing various kinds of crimes, and when I got married, we did have a son, and I was proud about that and laid off shooting up for a while, but drank. From all the shooting up though, I had hepatitis A twice and hepatitis B, and actually at one time I had hepatitis A and B the same time, and what I didn’t realize was that I had hepatitis C as well in the latter years and went through the treatment at the time was Interferon. Things like this went on for about 20 years. In those years, I would be in and out of prison, and I left my wife and son because I was too out of control.

For a year, I became homeless, sold drugs while on the streets, and stayed at people’s places for shelter. The police and other people couldn’t find me. I finally got fed up with it, so I committed myself to the state hospital and told them I was going to take my life—I wasn’t going to—I just needed to get out of the whole drug scene. They put me in there, and that’s when I found out I had hepatitis A and B at the same time, so they sent me to the hospital and treated me there for a while, and then I went back to the state hospital. They told me that I couldn’t stay there because I wasn’t crazy and I had methamphetamine psychosis, so I asked them to send me to drug rehab because that’s what I truly needed, so they sent me to a place in Pottstown, PA for an 84-day treatment program. 

How did you overcome your addiction and give your life to Christ?

While there, the lady who cooked the meals was a born-again Christian. We would talk to each other because I did commit myself to Christ and believed for a while that I was saved, but then when I saw myself wired up on drugs, I realized that I wasn’t. One of my prayers whenever I thought I was going to overdose and before I passed out was, “Jesus, let me get saved before I die.” He did answer that prayer.  How did you break free from drug addiction and come to know Jesus? While I was at the treatment center in Pottstown, this lady would get all the people at the church to pray for somebody, and that February, she prayed for me. She had all the girls from the church send me cards and letters. I was very grateful for this. When I got out in March, my friend and I came across a church in Pottstown, so we went in. As I walked up to the church, I heard music playing, and when I opened the sanctuary doors, it was the first time I ever felt love. I gave my life to the Lord and began to attend this church, but I don’t know if I was saved right away because I was still possessed by demons. The way I found out was they had an inner healing ministry and they addressed the demons that were in me and I heard them speak and it was crazy. It was a horrifying experience. I remember feeling a heavy weight on top of me and I was on the floor and was laughing and doing crazy stuff, but one day, almost 2 years later—it took me 2 years to get off of the drugs—and I was sitting in a doctors office and I heard a still quiet voice in my head—it wasn’t audible, but I would run these thoughts in my head that I’m not good enough—there’s nothing good about you and putting myself down and I heard the Lord say, “You don’t need to feel this way anymore.” And then I felt the demons come off my skin—it was a very unusual feeling, and I knew they were demons leaving my body. After this moment, my mind became clear—I could think better, and it was then that I believed the Holy Spirit entered my body. The Lord cast out the demons and put the Holy Spirit in me and this is when I truly experience victory in my life. You can’t do it on your own. 

I got remarried, and in September we celebrated our 33rd anniversary—I call her my Proverbs 31 woman. I got involved with Calvary Chapel in 1991, went through a three-year ministry training course, and then became an acting associate pastor for 6 years. My wife and I had the time of our lives—we did so many ministries together. I have been so blessed—I have 3 children from my previous marriages and have 7 grandchildren; and my youngest son is getting married in October, so we’re going to have more grandchildren. I am blessed!