Because She Is Becoming
By Dr. Verlyn Fontaine Waterman
I was not born for myself alone.
I was born with a divine assignment—designed to be a blessing, crafted to be a vessel. The hand of God etched purpose into my being before I drew my first breath. And though the journey has not been easy, I have walked it for the sake of every woman God destined me to impact—those I’ve met, and those I have yet to encounter.
For years, I served—even when it hurt.
Even when I had nothing left for myself, I poured.
I gave through emotional pain, spiritual warfare, physical weakness, and mental exhaustion. And I gave not because I had much, but because I was compelled by love and anchored in obedience.
Recently, I received devastating news:
A faithful woman from my team—a soul who gave sacrificially to young girls out of her own nothingness—had passed away after a stroke. Her life was a seed, planted with compassion. Her hands built when hers were empty. Her loss pierced me deeply, because I know that path too well.
Not long ago, after enduring my second cancer diagnosis, rounds of radiation, and a series of unrelenting pressures, I suffered a stroke. Or so I thought. The neurologist looked at me with grave compassion and said, “You didn’t have one stroke—you had three.” And with surgical precision, he added:
“If you want to live, you must let go of anything and anyone that does not serve your healing. Choose peace. Choose life. Choose you.”
That moment was holy.
I entered the silence.
Not to retreat—but to return.
To God. To stillness. To myself.
I stopped living for the approval of others and started living for the preservation of the assignment placed within me. I established boundaries—not out of pride, but out of sacred necessity. And though some called me arrogant, hasty, or self-absorbed, I understood something they could not see:
My peace was non-negotiable. My life was on the altar. My obedience had a price.
I watched as some vanished from my life—exposing their resentment, bitterness, and hidden judgment. They had no problem with my truth until it demanded distance. They applauded my strength when it served them, but vilified my boundaries when they excluded them.
But I see clearly now.
Every decision I’ve made has been part of a divine unveiling. Every loss, a clearing. Every silence, a healing. I no longer grieve who or what has left. I honor the becoming.
And I know this with certainty:
My choices are sacred. My voice is sacred.
My calling is not optional—it is essential.
The mission God has given me has deepened. I no longer serve from a place of obligation. I serve from a place of consecration. What God placed in me is not just for encouragement—it is for deliverance. It is for the awakening of women across generations and nations.
I can no longer delay.
Not one more minute.
Because there are women waiting—
In silence.
In shame.
In confusion.
In fragments.
And if I do not rise, how will they know they can? If I do not speak, how will they remember their name? If I do not build, how will they find shelter?
This movement is no longer a vision—it is a mandate. It is time to dig deeper, rise higher, and love harder. Because one more life should not be lost without knowing who she is.
Because she is becoming.
And I must be ready to meet her there.
Dr. Verlyn