My name is Wendy Arnold.

I grew up in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, as the middle child of four brothers. I learned early how to survive and stand on my own. The men in my life taught me strength and independence. The women—especially my mother—were not always supportive, but I loved them anyway. I adapted to my surroundings and did what I had to do to make it.

At 32 years old, I moved to Indiana. Within two months, I was in jail for the first time. That moment began a cycle that led to seven incarcerations in the Clinton County Jail. My life changed drastically, and once again, I adapted—but this time in all the wrong ways. I became involved with multiple drug dealers and was introduced to many drugs, even making them at one point. I believed the people around me loved me, and I did whatever they wanted without question.

One night, I learned how little I truly meant to them.

I was with a drug dealer who gave me bath salts, telling me it was meth. Completely unaware and out of my mind, I was beaten severely and left for dead at TPA Park. I was stripped of everything except a shirt and pajama pants. Somehow, I dragged myself to the edge of the woods, where a man and woman passing by on a golf cart saw me and called for help.

“Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial, because having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life.”
—James 1:12

Everything changed during my sixth time in jail—the longest and hardest sentence I had served. While there, I took a class called Unshackled. One day, when my name was called, a woman I had never met stood beside me and asked, “Are you Wendy Combs?” Her name was Jenny Gardner. She told me that Josh had been requesting prayer for me every Wednesday, in their small group, for a long time. That moment broke me. I knew it was time to get help.

A few months later, I was released to WeCare to finish my sentence. I completed the program in July 2020, regained custody of my daughter, found housing, began working at the sheriff’s department, and faithfully attended church. Everyone—including me—thought I was doing well.

But small compromises crept in. I stopped staying connected. I thought meetings weren’t necessary. I believed I could drink a little as long as I avoided drugs. I quit my job and started working at another place and that is where I met my husband, Travis. We thought drinking was harmless—but I don’t do anything small. Before long, I was fully addicted again. I lost myself. I became someone I didn’t recognize.

After my third DUI, seventh incarceration, and a marriage on the brink of collapse, I knew I had to return to what worked.

On April 13, 2024, after a fight with Travis, I walked away from home drunk, crying, and desperate. I called WeCare, and within minutes, Rachel, Jenny, and Julie showed up. Jesus rescued me again—through WeCare.

Today, I am almost 2 years sober. I have been working at IGA for a year and I’m blessed to have this position considering my background. I am staying connected, committed, and accountable. I volunteer at WeCare, help with devotions and classes, attend therapy, remain active in church, and sing in the Redemption Choir. I am honoring God, WeCare, my husband, myself, and my community.

I’ve learned that recovery isn’t just about abstaining—it’s about living a life aligned with God’s will. As Jim, our therapist, once told me, “You need to tap into your courage.” With God’s help, I’m doing that—one day at a time.