Mrs. International 2016 · Author · TV Co-Host · Advocate · Mother of 7 · Follower of Christ
“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves; ensure justice for those being crushed.”
Proverbs 31:8 — NLT
Born in Hollywood, California, Priscilla Pruitt is 100% Cuban-American — the proud daughter of Rafael, a man who risked everything for freedom. As a young man, Rafael escaped Communist Cuba on a raft, crossing treacherous waters with nothing but faith and determination. He became a pastor in America, building a life rooted in unwavering love for God and family.
Raised in that same spirit of courage and devotion, Priscilla grew up bilingual, deeply grounded in her Cuban heritage, and anchored by an unshakable faith in Jesus Christ. Her father’s sacrificial love shaped who she is today — a woman who believes that love can change the world, one person at a time.
An ordained minister, author, television co-host, international advocate, and bilingual public speaker, Priscilla lives by a simple conviction: “Because I Choose Love.” It’s more than a motto — it’s the thread that runs through everything she does, from saving abandoned babies to feeding orphans to raising her seven children. Every cause, every stage, every act of service comes back to the same choice.
“The things you do for yourself are gone when you are gone, but the things you do for others remain as your legacy.”
Jesus First
“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.”
Psalm 46:5 — NIV
Everything Priscilla does begins and ends with her relationship with Jesus Christ. Her faith is not a chapter of her story — it is her story. From her earliest memories of praying alongside her father to leading worship and serving alongside her husband Sean, Priscilla’s walk with Christ has been the compass guiding every decision, every sacrifice, and every act of love.
Together with Sean, she serves as a youth pastor — leading a weekly youth group of over 100 young people. Their mission: to pour hope, truth, and the love of God into the next generation.
Before the stage, before the cameras, before the title — there is the kitchen table at six in the morning. There are five children to homeschool. Lessons to plan, questions to answer, and a house that never stops needing her.
Priscilla made a choice that few people see and even fewer fully understand: she put her dreams on the back burner. The speaking invitations, the film projects, the advocacy work that could fill every hour of every day — she set it all aside to invest everything she has into her family. Because her first ministry has always been her home.
Two daughters in dance — rehearsals, recitals, costumes, and competitions. A son on the football field. Five kids with five different schedules, five sets of needs, and five hearts that need her presence more than the world needs her platform. On top of that, there is a husband whose needs she prioritizes, a home that always needs cooking and cleaning, and a garden she tends with her own hands — her quiet place where God speaks to her.
But when the house is finally quiet — when the last child is in bed, the dishes are done, and the world has gone to sleep — Priscilla goes to work. In those still hours of the night, she pours herself into the callings God has placed on her heart: Safe Haven Baby Boxes, saving the lives of abandoned newborns across the country. Co-hosting God’s View TV, bringing faith and truth into living rooms nationwide. And the project closest to her soul — Ninety Miles, the film that will honor her father Rafael’s legacy and carry his story of faith to a generation that desperately needs to hear it.
It is that film — and the fire behind everything she does — that has led many who know her to say something remarkable: that Priscilla is an Esther of her generation. Like the biblical Esther, she was placed in a position of influence not for her own glory, but “for such a time as this.” A voice for the voiceless. A protector of the innocent. A woman who carries the weight of a calling and the grace to see it through — all while raising the next generation under her own roof.
“Who knoweth whether thou art come to the kingdom for such a time as this?”
ESTHER 4:14
The first woman from Wyoming to ever win the Mrs. International title. But the crown wasn’t the goal — it was the megaphone God gave her to amplify a mission that began long before the stage.
Priscilla didn’t enter pageantry for a title. She entered because Wyoming was ranked the #1 state in the nation for teen suicide — and she couldn’t sit still while children were dying. Her original mission was to build a recreation center in their small town, a safe place where kids could gather, be mentored, and feel seen. She believed that if teenagers had somewhere to go and someone who cared, it could save lives.
A pageant platform, she realized, was the fastest way to be heard. It would give her a voice, an audience, and the credibility to make things happen. So she stepped into a world she knew nothing about — not for vanity, but for purpose.
Then, through the journey, God refined her calling. While preparing for competition, a coach asked: “If you could do anything in ministry, what would it be?” Without hesitation, Priscilla answered: “Baby boxes.” She had just watched The Drop Box, a documentary about abandoned babies, and the image had seared into her heart. When that coach looked it up and discovered Safe Haven Baby Boxes had just launched, Priscilla knew this was the mission God had been preparing her for all along.
Her Platform
“Choose Love”
“Building families through the power of love, until there are no more abandonments.”
“This is not about a crown; this is my life’s mission. I am so grateful because I know my new role will open so many doors and broaden the borders for my mission of saving babies around the world. My family is one-hundred percent committed to this cause.”
Watch the Crowning Moment
International Spokeswoman & Board of Directors
After watching The Drop Box, a documentary about a pastor in South Africa who rescued abandoned babies from dumpsters, Priscilla felt an undeniable calling. She told Sean she was ready to move overseas if that’s what it took.
Then, while competing as Mrs. Wyoming, a coach asked her: “If you could do anything in ministry, what would it be?” Without hesitation, Priscilla answered: “Baby boxes.”
That coach looked it up and discovered Safe Haven Baby Boxes had just launched in April 2016. Priscilla found them in May 2016 — one month later — and has been part of the organization ever since.
God didn’t send her overseas. He placed the calling right at her doorstep.
Raising awareness about safe, legal options for mothers in crisis across every community and state.
A lifeline of compassion, anonymity, and real resources — available day and night for any mother in crisis.
A last resort for mothers who refuse every other option — offering complete anonymity. No name. No blame. No shame.
As Priscilla emphasizes, these numbers prove the baby boxes truly function as a last resort. The vast majority of women who call are helped through the hotline, connected with crisis pregnancy centers, or guided toward adoption and legal surrenders. The baby box is there for the mothers who refuse every other option — and it saves lives that would otherwise be lost.
Safe Haven Baby Boxes are high-tech, life-saving devices installed on the outside walls of fire stations, police stations, or hospitals. They are placed in carefully chosen locations with no cameras and maximum privacy, so a mother can approach without fear.
Safe Haven Baby Boxes doesn’t just save babies — they care for the mothers too. The organization has helped mothers with clothing, cars, bill payments, and whatever is needed to help them become the parents they want to be.
Priscilla shared the story of a mother who surrendered her baby but changed her mind after the 30-day legal window. Rather than turning her away, the organization hired a lawyer on the mother’s behalf and helped her get her baby back — understanding the devastating reality of postpartum depression.
Mothers who use the baby boxes receive full legal immunity. No questions asked. No names taken. No legal consequences. They also have 30 days to change their mind and reclaim their child.
In August 1972, a 17-year-old girl was brutally attacked and left for dead. She pressed charges — only to discover six weeks later she was pregnant. Standing before the man who would perform an illegal abortion, she changed her mind. Hidden by her family for the rest of her pregnancy, she abandoned her newborn in a box outside a small hospital in Ohio just two hours after giving birth. She loved her baby enough to save her — but was too afraid to go inside.
That baby was Monica Kelsey. Monica later met her birth mother and held her hand as she passed away. Inspired by baby boxes she discovered in South Africa, Monica brought the concept to America and built the high-tech, life-saving system it is today. Safe Haven Baby Boxes has been operating since 2016, and Priscilla has been there from nearly the very beginning.
This mission is deeply personal. Priscilla’s own grandmother in Cuba attempted a self-induced abortion while pregnant with her father Rafael — a reality all too common in developing countries. Rafael survived, escaped Cuba on a raft, and became the pastor who raised Priscilla in faith. Every baby she helps save carries the echo of her father’s story: a life that almost wasn’t, that became everything.
“No name. No blame. No shame.”
24-Hour Crisis Hotline
Write your state legislators · Volunteer your time · Share the hotline number with anyone who may need it
Priscilla has dedicated her life to being the hands and feet of Christ — advocating for those who cannot advocate for themselves.
In 2009, Priscilla and Sean funded the creation of three orphanages in Honduras through Impact Ministries International. Their flagship facility, the “City of Refuge” in El Motatal near Comayagua, has won “Best Orphanage in the Country” three times. It is completely self-sustaining — with a school, medical clinic, bakery, trade school, farm with 20 cows and 40 sheep, fruit orchards, and water wells. Priscilla has a deep love for children everywhere — she reads to them, holds them, and pours into their lives.
In 2012, when Wyoming ranked #1 in the nation for suicide, Priscilla and Sean left behind their friends, family, and comfortable life — moving their entire family to Newcastle to help. Priscilla volunteered as the high school cheer coach and together they became youth pastors, opening their home to the community. Their weekly outreach grew to over 100 young people — providing food, basic necessities, mentorship, and love to kids battling bullying, depression, and hopelessness, personally covering 100% of the cost. Their campaign grew statewide, and Priscilla met with Governor Matt Mead to advocate for change. Wyoming’s suicide ranking has since improved from #1 to #4.
Before Wyoming, Priscilla and Sean led a homeless ministry in Northern Colorado — feeding, clothing, and sharing the Gospel with people living on the streets. Their heart for the marginalized has always been at the core of everything they do.
A passionate advocate for clean living, Priscilla grows her own food, raises chickens for fresh eggs, and has spent years researching and practicing natural remedies. She believes that how we care for our bodies is an act of stewardship and love.
Priscilla’s children’s book tackles bullying head-on with a message of compassion and courage. Beautifully illustrated by Mitzie Stone, the story follows a boy named Joey who discovers that labels aren’t always correct — and that sometimes hurting people hurt other people. It has touched families across the country and reinforces the same truth Priscilla lives by every day — that love is always the answer.
God opened the door for Priscilla to co-host God’s View, a Christian television program airing on the LIFE! Christian Broadcasting Network across the United States and around the globe. Alongside hosts Andy and Charlene, Priscilla brings her warmth, bilingual voice, and real-life experience to a show built on faith, empowerment, and the transforming power of God’s perspective. The show airs weekly and reaches women seeking hope, truth, and encouragement.
As a spokesperson for the American Heart Association, Priscilla walked the runway at New York Fashion Week on February 9, 2017 in the AHA’s Go Red for Women Red Dress Collection at the historic Hammerstein Ballroom in New York City — using her platform to raise awareness for women’s heart health, the #1 killer of women in America.
Faith-Based Feature Film — In Development
Four men. A raft of inner tubes and bedsheets. Three days adrift in the Caribbean. One prayer that changed everything.
One Prayer. Two Storms. Two Lives Saved.
Rafael — moments after rescue
In the 1970s, under Castro’s brutal regime, a young Cuban man named Rafael made a desperate decision. His wife and baby daughter had already fled to America through the Freedom Flights. The Cuban government refused to let Rafael follow — his ID stamped ESCORIA (scum) because his family had left. He would hold them again, or die trying.
With three friends — one of whom had already served twelve years in prison for a previous escape attempt and faced execution if caught again — Rafael built a raft from three Russian truck inner tubes, rope, and bedsheets. An estimated 16,000 rafters did not survive the crossing between 1959 and 1994. They launched anyway.
What followed were three harrowing days and nights — ten-foot waves, a merciless current pulling them toward the Bermuda Triangle, starvation, dehydration, and a twenty-two-foot shark circling their raft. The Caribbean sun blistered their skin by day; hypothermia gripped them at night. By the third day, all hope was gone.
It was Hector — the man who had the most to lose — who spoke first: “We need to pray. We are dying.” Pepe turned to Rafael: “You are the spiritual one. YOU pray.”
Rafael had practiced Santería his whole life — but in that moment, the only face that came to him was the crucifix from his grandmother’s mantle. She had told him as a boy: “When the day comes that you have nothing else, that is the face you will see.” For the first time in his life, Rafael prayed to Jesus. What happened next is the heart of this story.
“What are you looking for?”
“Freedom.”
“Okay. Welcome aboard.”
— Dr. Schroeder, skipper of the research vessel Pagurus
Ninety Miles is not just Priscilla’s next project — it is the story that shaped her entire life. Rafael was her father. The faith born on that raft became the foundation of her family, her ministry, and everything she has built. The photographs still exist. And his story has never been told on screen.
In Loving Memory of Rafael Artiles
This film is his legacy — a son of Cuba, a man of God, a father whose faith carried across ninety miles of open ocean and echoed through every life he touched.
This faith-based feature film weaves Rafael’s harrowing 1970s escape with a modern-day story of his granddaughter, whose own crisis of faith and secret addiction force her to truly hear her grandfather’s testimony for the first time — and discover that the same prayer, spoken fifty years apart, can save two lives.
The men were first rescued by Dr. Schroeder aboard the research vessel Pagurus, then transferred to the United States Coast Guard Cutter Diligence (WMEC-616, Key West). Both vessels are documented in the archival photographs below. Dr. Schroeder later moved to Australia. Rafael wrote letters to him for years, but they were eventually returned — no forwarding address. The two men never saw each other again.
The raft — actual rescue photograph
Archival Photographs — The Rescue
Rafael
Hector
Pepe
Flaco
USCG Diligence
WGA Registered Screenplay · Based on a True Story
Written by Priscilla Pruitt · Full treatment (40+ pages), pitch deck with archival photographs, and screenplay available upon request.
For production inquiries, faith-based film partnerships, or media requests regarding Ninety Miles:
Visit NinetyMilesFilm.com Film Inquiries
In the spirit of Sound of Freedom · Unbroken · I Can Only Imagine · Breakthrough
Before the crown, before the cameras, before any title — Priscilla is a wife and mother. Married to Sean Pruitt, she is the devoted mom of seven incredible children, ages 3 to 28.
A passionate homeschooler, Priscilla pours into her children’s education and character every single day. She nurtures each child individually — from her youngest, Elle (age 3), whom she dedicates hours to teaching and taking to dance where she scores in the top percentile, to Naelyn, whom Priscilla lovingly calls her own daughter and counts among her seven. She is at every practice, every game, every recital — always cheering the loudest.
At home, she tends her garden, raises twelve chickens for fresh eggs, and is a devoted advocate for natural remedies and clean living. She has a deep love for horses and spends time riding whenever she can. Every two years, she donates her hair to cancer patients — teaching her children that sacrifice and giving are acts of love.
A self-described “girly-girl/nerd,” Priscilla loves family movie marathon nights — Star Wars, The Lord of the Rings, Back to the Future — alongside Disney movies, painting, decorating, cooking, and biking through the Black Hills National Forest as a family. Her favorite color is red: the color of hearts, love, and her birthstone. Her home is a reflection of who she is: full of love, order, and warmth.
A name that carries the weight of heaven. A life that answered a prayer whispered by a ten-year-old every single night.
Adonai, age ten, had been praying every single day for a little sister. She never stopped asking. On Christmas Eve, the family gathered together — and Priscilla told them the news. God had answered.
After a year marked by profound loss — Priscilla’s beloved father Rafael, dear friend Paul Oebel, and cousin Armando Marquez — this baby was the joy spoken over darkness. A gift of restoration. A promise kept.
Elle Shaddai Joy Pruitt was born August 7, 2022 at 7:53 a.m. — 7 lbs 9 oz, 20.5 inches.
Years before Elle ever arrived, Priscilla already knew she was coming. She spoke about her constantly — this little girl she hadn’t met yet but loved with absolute certainty. To those around her, it was faith. To Priscilla, it was something God had already shown her.
On the night of September 6, 2019 — nearly three years before Elle’s birth — Priscilla was given a dream. In it, a mighty angel appeared before her, dressed like a warrior, radiant and unmistakable. He made an announcement in the manner of Scripture, speaking with the authority of the Lord: “El Shaddai is coming.”
And then, by the grace of God, Priscilla was allowed to hold her. She saw her face — the most beautiful little girl she had ever laid eyes on. Priscilla held her close, showed her to Sean, and marveled at how perfect she was. Every detail was vivid, as though heaven itself had let her glimpse the daughter she would one day bring into the world.
The dream took place in their home — yet it wasn’t quite their home. It felt as though the house was lifted up, floating above the earth, surrounded by the night sky and the stars of the universe. They were with the angel, dwelling in the heavens. And in that holy, weightless moment, there was only one word to describe it: peace.
From that night forward, Priscilla spoke about Elle as though she had already arrived. She told family, friends, anyone who would listen — “She’s coming. God showed me.” And years later, when Elle Shaddai Joy finally entered the world on August 7, 2022, Priscilla wasn’t surprised. She had been waiting for her — because God had already introduced them.
Elle was born 100% naturally — at home, in water, with no epidural, no medications, no medical interventions of any kind. Just faith, prayer, and the power of God.
Long before the contractions began, Priscilla made a decision: she would not give in to fear. She read Supernatural Childbirth by Jackie Mize, a book that transformed the way she understood what God designed a woman’s body to do. Through its pages, she confronted every fear about the pain of labor and replaced it with Scripture, with promises, with the unwavering belief that God had already gone before her into that delivery room.
Where the world said you can’t do it without drugs, Priscilla said I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Where fear whispered that the pain would be too great, faith answered louder. She prayed over her body, over her baby, over every moment of the birth — and she walked into labor with a supernatural peace that could only come from the Lord.
With the help of midwives from Tender Gifts Midwifery, doula Brianna Spicka by her side, and birth photographer Mary Ann Mercurio Graves capturing those sacred first moments, Priscilla brought Elle into the world exactly the way God intended — in power, in peace, and through faith alone.
She threatened to come early, but the family prayed — and she came right on time, full term, at the hour God appointed.
Elle has been the calmest baby from day one — rarely cries, sleeps like an angel. Her big brother Eli, who seemed the least excited about a new sibling, became the most smitten. He couldn’t stop holding her.
Adonai — “My Lord.” El Shaddai — “God Almighty.” Two sisters, both carrying names of the Most High. Adonai prayed every single day for a sister. God didn’t just answer her prayer — He gave her a best friend with a name that echoes her own.
Together, they are a living reminder that God hears the prayers of children — and He answers in ways more beautiful than anyone could imagine.
“He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children. Praise the Lord!”
PSALM 113:9
When God closes one door, He opens another — and sometimes it comes with an oak-canopied street and a gate just like the one in your friend’s dream.
After stepping down from leading the evangelism and homeless ministry at their church in Colorado — with a new baby on the way and still grieving the loss of Priscilla’s father — the Pruitts entered a season of seeking. For the first time in a long time, they felt a shift. They needed to focus on family. And they needed to ask God a simple question: “Where do You want us?”
Sean works remotely — all he needs is a phone and good WiFi. They could go anywhere. So they waited on the Lord.
Then the confirmations started coming — one after another, from people who had no idea what the others had said.
They told the Lord: “Okay, we’ll consider Texas. But please — not somewhere too hot, too congested, too much traffic.” Like Gideon, they asked God to make it clearer.
He did.
They found an area that is lush and green year-round — just like Amanda’s dream. It rarely gets above 92° or below 40°. No traffic. No waiting for a table at dinner. And then they found the house.
The house was built the same year Sean was born. God has always spoken to this family through numbers — and every number lined up.
There was just one problem: another buyer had already put in a cash offer that same day. Their realtor asked if they wanted to offer over asking price. They prayed about it, and the Holy Spirit answered clearly: not a penny more, not a penny less.
They offered exactly asking price. No closing costs. No extras. Just faith that if this was God’s house, no one could take it from them — cash offer or not.
They waited without anxiety. Completely at peace.
The owners even asked if they could move in at the end of July — the exact week the Pruitts’ Colorado lease expired. God’s timing, down to the day.
The oak trees form a canopy over the entire street — so beautiful that photographers show up just to take pictures. At Christmas, every house and every tree is decorated to the nines. For Priscilla, who has dreamed of living in one of those magical Christmas neighborhoods since she was a girl in California, it’s a dream she never dared to pray for out loud.
The property has a garden big enough for Priscilla to spend all day in the yard — her place of peace, where God speaks to her. Sean has a full apartment in back for his studio, office, and work. The kids got their pool. And you enter through a big, beautiful gate — just like Amanda saw in her dream.
Even the connections were already in place. A friend offered to introduce them to a pastor in their new city — and it turned out Sean already knew him from growing up in Anchorage, Alaska. Only God could connect two people from Alaska in a small Texas town. New friends from the National Religious Broadcasters event were already there. Safe Haven Baby Boxes had just passed legislation in Texas. And the city has a shelter where Priscilla can serve — exactly the kind of halfway-house ministry she’d been dreaming of building.
“God is so good. This move, this house — it’s everything we prayed for and so much more. Thank you, Jesus.”
A small ranching town of barely three thousand people in northeast Wyoming — and a young family who arrived on nothing but a word from God.
In 2012, a young family stood at the edge of everything they knew and stepped off. They had never been to Wyoming. Never driven through it. Had no family there, no friends, no job waiting. What they had was a stirring in their spirits they could not shake and signs that seemed to follow them everywhere — billboards, conversations, license plates — all pointing to a place called Newcastle, a small ranching town tucked into the northeast corner of Wyoming. They left a beautiful home in Texas and drove north on nothing but a word from God and the faith to obey it.
The house that waited for them was a shipwreck. There were no light fixtures in the entire home. No doors on the bedrooms or the bathrooms. No flooring — just bare subfloor throughout. The staircase was exposed two-by-fours, terrifying for a family with an eight-month-old baby learning to crawl. A foot-long pack rat had taken up permanent residence, and mice ran through every room. The couple stood in this wreckage, looked at each other, and chose to believe God had not made a mistake.
Priscilla with the Newcastle youth group — assembling goodie baskets for the community
Before and during those years, the Lord spoke through dreams and visions in ways that both confirmed the calling and illuminated the battles ahead.
Within three months of arriving in Newcastle, the family had started the largest youth group the town had seen. Every Wednesday night, their home filled with teenagers — kids from broken families, kids whose parents were in prison or strung out on meth, kids who had never heard someone tell them they mattered. Wyoming held the grim distinction of being the nation’s suicide capital, and these young people carried that weight in their eyes.
One evening, the husband called all the kids downstairs for macaroni and cheese. Every child rushed to the table and started eating — except one little girl. She sat down on the couch in the next room, frozen, as if she didn’t believe the food was for her. When he told her the plate was hers, she stood up slowly, like someone who had been taught she didn’t deserve a seat at the table. He didn’t know it at the time, but she was being abused at home. That moment became a lasting metaphor for everything the youth group represented: a table set with love, and children who had to learn they were welcome at it.
The youth group sessions were real. No church polish, no performance. One December evening, the leader taught from Matthew — the story of Jesus feeding four thousand with a few loaves and fish — and turned it into a conversation about stress and surrender, using a car’s check engine light as an analogy. These were ranch kids and oil field kids. They needed someone to meet them where they were.
But the family’s vision went further. They saw a town with no recreation center, no place for young people to go, and they decided to do something about it. They launched a campaign for a community center — organizing fundraisers, a fall festival at the fairgrounds with hayrides and games and an auction, interviewing local teenagers on camera about what they needed. The kids spoke plainly: “There’s really nothing to do besides babysitting.” One teenager said a community center would “help kids get out of more trouble.”
The wife’s platform grew beyond the town. She won Mrs. Wyoming and used the title not as a crown to admire but as a key to open doors. Over the course of her reign, she made fifty-seven appearances — parades, Veterans Hospital visits, fundraisers, marathons, pageants, nursing homes, school assemblies, women’s conferences, even a meeting with the governor. When she went on to win Mrs. International, the pace only accelerated. In her first quarter alone, she logged forty-three appearances and eight television interviews, using every one to raise awareness about safe haven laws and baby abandonment.
She flew across the country advocating for Safe Haven Baby Boxes, educating people about the mothers who still abandoned their newborns at hospital doorsteps because they were terrified of face-to-face interaction — and the babies who froze to death in winter months because there was no safe, anonymous alternative. She raised money to donate cradles to hospitals in Texas, the number one state in the nation for infant abandonments. She connected with international ministry organizations operating orphanages across fifteen countries on five continents.
At the Festival of Trees in Casper, she helped raise sixty thousand dollars for the Special Olympics. She flew to Texas for charity fashion shows where one hundred percent of the proceeds went to families affected by domestic violence. She visited Cook Children’s Hospital and built teddy bears for children fighting for their lives. She spent time at the Ronald McDonald House decorating for their Boo Fest and meeting the families living there. She spoke at the Boys and Girls Club of Dallas, looking into the faces of children who needed to hear that their dreams were not too big for where they came from.
Back in Newcastle, the husband made repeated visits to the Veterans Hospital in Cheyenne — six times to the Cheyenne VA alone, plus trips to the Denver VA — sitting with men and women who had given everything and now lived in the quiet aftermath of that sacrifice.
All of this from a family that had arrived in a town they’d never heard of, with no plan, no connections, and a house full of mice.
But for every door God opened, the enemy kicked at the frame.
The opposition in Newcastle was fierce, and it came from the places you’d least expect. Community leaders came against them — not openly, but in the privacy of their own homes, stirring up dissension. Church leaders who should have been allies became adversaries. Lies spread through the small town like brush fire. A horrible article appeared in the local newspaper attacking the family and their community center vision. They wrote a rebuttal, but the damage was done — not to their reputation so much as to their spirits.
Their closest allies began to waver. The handful of faithful volunteers who had stood beside them became fearful and scared, because they were being attacked too. The whisper campaigns and sideways looks of a small town can be more devastating than any open confrontation. Local business owners sat across from the husband and told him flatly that the community center was impossible. An attorney confirmed the obstacles. Everyone had a reason it couldn’t be done. Nobody seemed to remember the kids who needed it.
Then the darkness deepened. A fifteen-year-old sophomore in the community took his own life. The spiritual weight of it was crushing. That day, the attacks on the rec center, the article in the paper, the lies about the youth group, the fear in his allies’ eyes, and now a dead teenager all converged into a single, suffocating pressure. Part of him wanted to give up. Part of him wanted to leave.
And then that very night, they held youth group — and the biggest crowd in months showed up. They came ready to listen. God moved in a powerful way. It was, as the husband described it, like casting nets over and over with nothing to show for it, and then suddenly the nets were full. It renewed their spirits, their minds, their desire to keep going.
He was reading through Deuteronomy at the time — chapter seven, where the Lord tells His people not to fear the nations as they enter the land to conquer it: “Remember what I did in Egypt.” And he felt God saying the same thing to him: You came here because I told you. You’re obedient. And I’m going to deliver you just like I did your forefathers. But you’ve come here to lead them. Lead them out of the bondage.
The first community center fundraiser nearly broke them before it started. Two hours before the event, the wife discovered that the PA system at the fairgrounds was gone. The husband tore through the house in a panic, ripping the receiver out of the media room, pulling speaker wires, trying to rig something together. Nothing worked. Then, forty minutes before the event, a local pastor offered to bring equipment. They made it to the fairgrounds — and found that the volunteers had pulled off something beautiful. The food was arranged, the auction baskets were set, the hayrides were ready, the youth were all there helping. And the crowd that came wasn’t critical or demanding. They were just there to support. Seventy-five percent of them were kids. The feared inquisition never happened. God showed up instead.
But the financial strain was constant. The family was stretched thin — so tight that when their eldest needed a plane ticket for the holidays, they debated whether they could afford it. Instead, they felt God say go, and they drove five and a half hours to Denver on icy roads that everyone warned them not to travel — and on that trip, through a series of impossible, miraculous turns, every domino fell into place for their next chapter.
When it was finally time to leave in January of 2017, they stood before their youth group three separate times to say goodbye — and each time barely made it through. One said it was the toughest thing he’d ever done. The other said the greatest moments of their life were Wednesday nights in that room. They had come to Newcastle with no plan to start a ministry, and they were leaving with hearts permanently marked by the children they had loved.
They arrived in Newcastle on blind faith. They left having started the largest youth group the town had known, launched a campaign for a community center, raised tens of thousands of dollars for Special Olympics, advocated for abandoned infants across the nation, visited veterans in hospitals, donated cradles to save newborns, comforted children fighting for their lives, stood on stages and in living rooms and at fairground pavilions speaking hope into places that had forgotten what it sounded like.
They did not build what they envisioned. The community center was never completed in their time. The house was never fully finished. The opposition was never fully silenced. But the seeds — the seeds went into the ground. And according to the word of the Lord, those seeds are still growing, producing warriors and leaders in a small Wyoming town where two strangers once showed up with nothing but a word from God and the stubborn, trembling faith to obey it.
Two broken roads that led straight to each other — and to a God who wastes nothing.
They weren’t looking for love. Neither one of them. Both Sean and Priscilla had walked through the wreckage of broken marriages — the kind of pain that makes you wonder if God still has a plan for your heart.
But God wasn’t done writing their story. He was, in fact, just turning the page.
Where the world saw two people with fractured pasts, God saw the beginning of something beautiful — a love story authored by heaven itself, stitched together with signs only He could orchestrate.
Sean had always had one dream car: a black Chevrolet Camaro SS. Not just any Camaro — the kind that makes the ground tremble when you turn the key. He grew up loving fast cars, the way some boys love baseball or fishing. But the Camaro SS was the one. The one he never forgot.
Years before they ever met, Sean walked into Hudiburg Chevrolet in Fort Worth, Texas. Sitting on the lot was a black Camaro SS — a 35th Anniversary Edition. Only two of them were ever sold at that dealership. Sean walked up to it, placed both hands on the hood, and prayed out loud:
He didn’t buy it that day. He couldn’t. He just believed.
Fast forward — God brings Priscilla into Sean’s life. Two broken people choosing to trust God one more time. And Priscilla? She happened to own a black Camaro SS. Not just any Camaro SS.
It was the exact car Sean had laid his hands on and prayed over.
The same 35th Anniversary Edition. From the same dealership. One of only two ever sold there. The car Sean had claimed in faith years before God brought them together. Priscilla had been driving his answered prayer all along — and neither of them knew it.
Now — to be clear — Sean didn’t marry Priscilla for the Camaro. He married the love of his life. The car is just one of a hundred stories they could tell. But they tell this one because it captures something words alone can’t: the way God weaves details together across years, across lives, across miles — details no human hand could arrange. The Camaro wasn’t the miracle. The miracle was that God had been writing their love story long before either of them knew the other existed.
That’s how God works in the Pruitt story. Not with billboards and megaphones — but with whispers, with numbers, with a black Camaro sitting on a dealer lot years before the love story even began. Every major event in their lives — every move, every door that opened, every closed one that led somewhere better — carries His fingerprints: sometimes subtle, sometimes unmistakable, but always unmistakably Him. He is always listening.
A second chance at love. A prayer answered before it was even fully understood. Two people who thought their best days were behind them — discovering that God was just getting started.
“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”
ROMANS 8:28She is the daughter of a man who escaped Cuba on a raft. That same defiance of impossible odds — that refusal to accept the world as it is when she can see what it should be — runs through everything she has ever done.
Priscilla Pruitt is a mother of seven, a woman of deep and daring faith, a national titleholder, a television host, a child advocate, a voice for the voiceless, and a relentless force of grace in every room she enters. Together, she and Sean had four children of their own. Sean brought one child from a previous relationship, and the couple raised Priscilla’s nieces on her sister’s side — all living under their roof at different phases of life. Seven children, one family, one household built on love. Her platform is not a slogan. It is a conviction she has lived out across hundreds of stages, hospital hallways, veterans’ bedsides, children’s shelters, and the living rooms of teenagers who had never been told they mattered.
In 2014, Priscilla entered the Mrs. Wyoming pageant just thirty days before the competition — and won. It was not ambition that drove her. It was a quiet leading from God, and the faith to act on it. She went on to compete at Mrs. America, where she earned First Runner-Up against the most accomplished women in the nation. In 2016, she was crowned Mrs. International.
But Priscilla never treated a crown as a trophy. She treated it as a key — one that could open doors to the places where people were hurting the most.
During her reign as Mrs. Wyoming alone, she made fifty-seven appearances: parades, Veterans Hospital visits, fundraisers, marathons, nursing homes, school assemblies, women’s conferences, and a meeting with the governor. As Mrs. International, the pace only intensified. In her first quarter, she logged forty-three appearances and eight television interviews, maintaining a normal rhythm of twelve to fifteen appearances every month — all while raising children in a small Wyoming town where everything was two to three hours away.
Since 2008, Priscilla and Sean have been working to prevent the abandonment of children and infants around the world. By 2012, they had launched their own organization outreach. By 2016, she was partnering with Safe Haven Baby Boxes, The Hope Box, and the National Safe Haven Alliance.
Her mission was born from a heartbreaking reality: even with safe haven laws in all fifty states, desperate mothers were still leaving their newborns at the doorsteps of hospitals and fire stations — and in winter months, some of those babies froze to death before anyone found them. Priscilla set out to change that. She raised money to donate cradles to hospitals across Texas — the number one state in the nation for infant abandonments — and advocated for baby boxes that would allow mothers to surrender their children safely and anonymously, without the shame of a face-to-face interaction.
She took the mission international, holding a conference call with Impact Ministries International — an organization operating fifty-five orphanages in fifteen countries — to place baby boxes at every location, beginning with Honduras. She was in conversations with partners in South Africa, China, and across the globe. What had started as a personal conviction became a worldwide campaign to save the smallest and most vulnerable lives on earth.
The scope of Priscilla’s service during those years is staggering in its breadth and deeply personal in its detail.
She visited the Cheyenne Veterans Hospital six times — driving six hours one way to reach the Denver VA as well — sitting with men and women whose names she learned and whose stories she carried. One veteran, a man she had come to know over multiple visits, told her from his hospital bed: “Sometimes someone like you comes along. You made my day. You made my week. You made my month. You even made my year.” Each visit grew harder as more of her friends passed away. She always left in tears. She always went back.
She spent three days with the athletes of the Special Olympics — not a quick photo opportunity, but a genuine immersion: watching them compete in bowling, cycling, and soccer, dining with them, dancing with them at the victory banquet. At the Festival of Trees in Casper, she helped raise sixty thousand dollars for the Special Olympics in a single event.
She flew to Texas to walk the hallways of Cook Children’s Hospital, where she built teddy bears for a nine-year-old boy recovering from heart surgery and a little girl too sick to leave her room. She visited the Ronald McDonald House to read Christmas stories to families living in temporary limbo between hope and heartbreak. She attended the Colorado Children’s Hospital’s North Pole event, where every hallway was transformed into a winter wonderland for kids fighting for their lives.
She was the showstopper at a charity fashion show where one hundred percent of the proceeds went to families impacted by domestic violence. She ran the Jingle Bell Run to raise money for arthritis research. She walked the South Dakota Heart Walk surrounded by cheerleaders. At the Boys and Girls Club of Dallas, she spoke to children about pursuing their dreams, about overcoming fear, about self-image and bullying — looking into the faces of kids who needed to hear that their lives could be more than what the world had told them so far.
On Christmas Eve, she launched “Operation Give Love” — an undercover mission in pajamas at midnight with friends, sneaking into a family’s home while they were at mass to fill the space beneath their tree with presents. The next day, she hand-delivered goodie bags — candy, stuffed animals, and small treasures her youth group had assembled — to children who might not have had a single gift to open.
What makes Priscilla extraordinary is not the sum of her accomplishments — though that sum is remarkable. It is who she is when no one is watching.
In one of her most honest moments, broadcast live, she confessed something that stunned her followers. Despite being Mrs. Wyoming, despite being First Runner-Up at Mrs. America, she did not feel pretty enough to go on camera. She did not feel skinny enough. She did not feel worthy of anyone’s attention. She had recorded a video, deleted it, and was arguing with God about whether to try again.
She hit record and never deleted it. That willingness to stand before others in her imperfection — to let the cracks show so that the light could get through — is the truest measure of her courage.
Prophetic words have followed Priscilla throughout her journey. In a ministry setting, a woman asked the Lord what He wanted to say to her. The answer came simply and powerfully:
Years earlier, in 2009, a prophetic word foretold the shape of her life’s calling: “Priscilla is going to be dealing with orphanages and other things.” At the time, she and Sean had barely begun their advocacy work. By 2016, she was in conference calls with orphanage directors on four continents.
That is exactly what happened. From a mouse-infested house in a tiny Wyoming town, a fountain sprang up — and its water reached veterans in hospitals, athletes on playing fields, abandoned babies in cradles, abused children at kitchen tables, grieving families at Christmas, and teenagers who had never been told that God loved them.
Perhaps no one has captured who Priscilla is more honestly than the man who has walked beside her through all of it.
That was always her sign-off. Every video, every appearance, every message to the world ended the same way: “I am your Mrs. International, reminding you to choose love.”
It was never a tagline. It was the thesis of her entire life. The two pillars of love, she taught, are patience and kindness — and every other attribute of love falls beneath them. She lived those pillars in veteran hospitals and children’s wards, on pageant stages and in small-town living rooms, through long drives across frozen Wyoming highways and late-night Christmas missions in her pajamas.
Priscilla Pruitt did not simply wear a crown. She laid it down — over and over again — at the feet of everyone who needed it more than she did.
