After I got out of the hospital, there was no place to go. I was still very sick, my stomach and intestines totally a mess. Such misery.

It was so very cold, in the month of December. I didn't have enough clothes. I could not go on. Once more I fainted, in the street. I woke up in a hayfield, where I guess someone had thrown me to die.

I suddenly remembered there had been money in my pocket. But it was gone. I wanted to find the Korean woman who had been with me before I passed out, but I was unsuccessful.

Wandering around the streets I came upon a greenhouse, and stayed there one night. I was discovered by the owner, who asked me what was wrong, and a third time I passed out.

This time when I woke up, I was in an old lady's house. She had had no clue I was a North Korean, and so had ordered some men to take me to her house.

"Please let me stay here several days," I begged. But the woman was afraid when she finally realized who I was. Harboring a North Korean refugee would bring fines she surely could not afford.

She tried to feed me. But all of my mouth, my gums, were split open. I could hardly eat anything.

The lady placed me on the back of a tractor and took me to a Buddhist Temple. After talking to a monk there for 30 minutes, it was decided that they could take me in. They fed me. They took care of me the best they could. I stayed in this temple one month.

After healing some, I worked awhile in a Korean-Chinese market area. As I got stronger, three months later, I began laboring in a factory that made women's accessories. Then in a Korean restaurant for one year.

Of course, during that time I never stopped thinking about my daughter.

It was in this situation that I was first introduced to the church. I even found a place where North Korean defectors gathered and were sent on from there into South Korea.

I attended this little group for two weeks. Then one day I was about to go there again, when someone standing at the corner warned me, "Don't go there. Yesterday six people were arrested in that place! For the next three years, I never went to church again, out of fear.

I stayed in that Chinese city near Shanghai for six years. One and a half years I worked in the accessory factory. But I also learned to do work on the side. I saw South Korean vendors coming in and out. I got an idea. With the money I had saved up from restaurant work I was able to start a little business with these vendors.

I was not alone in this venture. Another Korean woman worked with me. It would normally be hard for a North Korean woman to have a successful business in China, especially at a port city. But my friend was a citizen.

Before I came to faith, I was a drinker. I did a lot of visiting of bars in those days, and began to make some friendships with men who offered to protect me. They were not exactly law-abiding citizens, but they were a strong bunch of men, and I needed their help.

These connections kept my business safe for three years. Then things began to go down, and I had to move to yet another city. I worked successfully there another three years.

It had been six and a half awful years since that fateful day when my daughter was arrested. Through a series of circumstances I was able to make contact with people who knew the truth about what had happened. The truth I discovered was that my daughter, only a young teenager, had been powerfully kicked to the floor in her jail cell by a cruel guard. She had not survived that blow. My daughter was dead.

Somehow I had to carry on. Somehow I had to carry on.

But the rain continued to pour down on me.Things seemed to be getting worse. Someone became jealous of the prosperity of my business, and I was reported.

The ever-present North Korean CIA found me and started following me again. One of them actually approached me and asked me, "Can you translate this note into Chinese?"-a test designed to prove that I was not actually Korean Chinese but rather a North Korean defector. Of course I could not translate the note. I began to run. I ran so fast, that I did not even know where I was going.

I got on my cell phone and contacted one of my "protector" friends. "A North Korean man is following me, please come and help!" Almost immediately, some motorcycles appeared. They rescued me. "Where do you want to go?"

"Take me to a plastic surgery hospital!" In three hours I knew I could have eye surgery.

But that wasn't going to help enough. I had to get out. Through this gang, a broker was found that could get her to South Korea immediately.

But this broker only took six people at a time, and he was already full for this trip. A call was made, an exception was allowed for, and I was on my way. I gave up all my merchandise, my business, and seven days later I left China.

I took the route that so many before me have taken, hundreds and hundreds of miles, over four months, to take a trip that should only be a couple of hours.

When I arrived in South Korea the Korean CIA questioned me for a full month. I had to tell the truth, since they knew most of the story anyway!

In that four-month ordeal, sitting in a country in Southeast Asia, I had some serious doubts about the whole God thing. Even after I got here and was encouraged to go to seminary to learn more about the things of the Lord, I wasn't so sure. It seemed like they were pushing their denomination and their viewpoint.