FROM MULE TO MESSENGER

Queen of the County Line

I didn’t ask for the crown.
I just kept crossing lines — some I was pushed over, some I wandered past.
But every time, God came after me — not to punish me, but to commission me.

So no, I’m not Queen of the South.
I’m Queen of the County Line —
where I learned how to carry the light back into places most people avoid.

You know how folks are always asking, “What’s a good series to watch?”
Well, if you like grit, revenge, and a woman who figures out how to work the system after it works her over, try Queen of the South.

Now before anybody clutches their pearls, hear me out.

I’m not trying to glamorize drugs or violence or anything else. But I do recognize a storyline that hits something deep, because sometimes the fiction looks a whole lot like the truth — just telling our story in a fake Hollywood Southern accent.

She didn’t ask for power.
She didn’t dream of being in charge.
She just wanted to build a life with someone she loved —
but pain, betrayal, and the system she never signed up for dragged her under.

And instead of dying there,
she learned how to rise.

No, I’ve never run a cartel. I don’t sling product.
But I have carried shame for people more powerful than me.
I have been used for what I could carry, then discarded when I spoke up.
I have felt the snap of old patterns and the hush of trauma that trains you to keep quiet.

So when I say I went from mule to messenger, I mean it.

I used to carry secrets. Now I carry light.
I used to traffic in silence. Now I traffic in truth.
And I don’t whisper anymore.

Some of us weren’t made to stay small.
Not for pride, but for purpose.
Not to boss others, but to break chains.

I believe Jesus still sets captives free.
And I believe He sends the ones He freed to go back and get the others.

That’s the call on my life.
From mule to messenger.
From stuck to sent.
From silence to story.

So now you know why I’m like this.
Why I don’t do small talk well.
Why I ask hard questions, dig too deep, and sometimes make people squirm.

Because when you’ve carried things you were never meant to carry,
when you’ve walked that county line with truth burning a hole in your pocket,
you stop worrying about being palatable.

You just want to help people get free.

So no, I’m not too much.
I’m just enough for the kind of healing that costs something.

That’s what The Truth and Tallow is built on — where we shine light on what gets rendered down and redeemed.

I didn’t get here by accident.
I was pushed into places I never asked to be — the kind that were meant to crush me.
But it turned out to be the very thing that taught me how to stand up, speak up, and live free.

I know I can be intense.
Some people say I ask too many questions or dig too deep.
But I’m not trying to interrogate — I’m trying to illuminate.

See, I’ve been stuck too.
I’ve sat in the dark with pain and silence and patterns I didn’t know how to break.
And it wasn’t surface talk or a feel-good quote that pulled me out — it was truth.
It was raw. It was real. And it cut deep.

It took someone brave enough to shine a light and help me see.

That’s what I long for now.
Not to fix you. Not to heal you.
But to make space for you to encounter the One who can —
the One who has always held the keys.

The Truth and Tallow was never about image — it’s about what’s real.
It’s about what gets rendered down and used, not wasted.
It’s about the truth that costs you something.
The kind Jesus said would actually set us free.

These days, we throw around buzzwords like triggered, narcissist, toxic, victim, boundaries…
And listen, those are real things.
But they’ve been overused, distorted, diluted — until they no longer carry the weight they were meant to hold.
We’ve dressed up bondage in trendy language and called it empowerment.

But I’m not here to coddle dysfunction.
I’m here to call the real ones —
the ones who still feel the pull when truth hits the bone.

I’m the person who, when the teacher says:

“This next part is going to be brutal.
It’ll cost you sleep, comfort, and maybe even your ego.
So if you’re not ready, this is your chance to leave…”
I start leaning in.
Smiling, even.

I say:
“Let’s go.”

I believe some of us are built for this.
Not to blend in, but to recruit.
To carry the message.
To shine the light.
To cut through deception and call people back to truth —
not the world’s version, but God’s.

So if you’re tired of soft answers…
If you’ve got a holy ache that won’t shut up…
If something in you wakes up when things get deep —

Then you’re not alone.

Welcome to The Truth and Tallow.

I’m still pulling thorns out of my own feet — but I’ll carry the flashlight if you want to walk a little way with me.

~ Tina