Kathy Gaulton begins her memoir, Repurposed, by sharing sumptuous details of her life as a merchandiser for high-end boutiques. She describes flying first class to Florence, where she stayed in a hotel room that made her feel like “a princess in a movie,” shopped for Prada, and networked with members of the Ferragamo, Fendi, and Gucci families.

The scene she paints is worlds away from the difficulties her grandparents and parents knew and the deprivations she suffered as a child. Growing up in Southern California, Gaulton, who is Japanese American and currently lives in Placentia, was never allowed to forget that her family was poor. Her father had worked on his family’s lettuce farm. Being relocated to an internment camp during World War II left lasting scars on her mother—and her mother’s entire family.

Gaulton’s professional achievements look like the American dream come true, but as Repurposed unfolds, it becomes clear that Gaulton’s truth transcends worldly success and material wealth. Her story is, as a reviewer for Kirkus Reviews puts it, a “heartfelt, extensively intimate account of finding a deeper Christian calling in life.”

The Anaheim Japanese Free Methodist Church—where her grandfather was pastor—was the central focus of Gaulton’s family. But as a young woman in the 1960s, she chafed against her religion’s rules. She dated and smoked and enjoyed herself. She also began earning her own money, which afforded her an additional level of independence. When she became a retail buyer, she found her calling. For someone raised with a scarcity mindset, shopping for a living was a thrill. And, she says, she excelled at it. “Even when I was buying luxuries, I always wanted to get value for a dollar. I could buy to my heart’s content, but I always had a high profit margin. My bottom line was always really good.”

At 22, Gaulton got married. She and Gary would ultimately have three children together. They had a nice house, nice cars, and nice clothes. Gaulton was making good money—and credit cards made them feel like they could splurge. Everything came crashing down when the economic recession of the early ’8os hit, though. The process of rebuilding their lives would take a long time—as well as some unexpected turns.

Gaulton had what she calls “a born-again experience” during this difficult season. “I really saw the love of God as opposed to seeing God as a disciplinarian.” Instead of fighting against external restrictions, she found an inner resilience. “One of the things that happens when you are born again is that God gives you new eyes, and you see things in a different way. So the hurtful aspects of the religion I grew up with—the authoritarian part—becomes unnecessary. God works within you so that you don’t desire the things you shouldn’t desire.” She offers this example: “I smoked when I was pregnant with my first child. When I became pregnant with my second child, I asked Jesus to take away the desire to smoke. And I just stopped. That’s a testimony to God’s power and how the Holy Spirit can work within you.”

Gaulton’s newfound faith didn’t mean that she was enthusiastic when Gary declared that he wanted to join the ministry. Her grandfather’s experience as a pastor had been difficult. Most of his parishioners had, in Gaulton’s words, “fought tooth and nail to stay alive” during internment, and—like her family—they had emerged with nothing. When congregants gave food to her grandmother, it was rotten. Malicious gossip spread throughout the church, and Gaulton’s grandparents were often the focus. “There was no love for the pastor’s family,” she says. Ultimately, her grandfather would take his own life.

She also struggled to see herself—a modern businesswoman—in the role of pastor’s wife. But Roy Takaya, one of her husband’s mentors, helped her reimagine what being a pastor’s wife might look like when he said, “You need to be yourself. God wants you to be who He made you to be.”

It was during a missionary trip to Kenya that she found her true calling: “shopping for the Lord.” Tasked with helping five women with five sewing machines start a small business, she thought about all the fabrics she had seen for sale as she browsed local markets. She gave these women enough material to start crafting simple bags that she knew she could sell in the United States, and this was the beginning of what would become Heavenly Treasures, a thriving microenterprise network.

What makes Gaulton’s story especially engaging is that her faith journey did not force her to repudiate the person she had become after she fell away from religion or to deny her worldly talents. Instead, she’s been able to foster what one pastor friend calls “redemptive consumerism” by being—as Pastor Takaya encouraged her to be—authentically herself:

It is my passion and the beat of my heart to shop in the marketplaces and greet the artisans and vendors. Shopping is not just something I do. It’s my love and my passion. Take me to a market anywhere in the world and I am at home. My endorphins kick in and my heart starts to race. When I visit our partners, my heart is overjoyed to see that one new item, that single advancement that the artisan might have made since the last time I was there, or to hear a story of a changed life. In the field, my gift of shopping is at its highest, and I try to buy something small from everyone I stop to see….Shopping is not always about buying. Shopping is relationship building, information gathering, idea creation and honoring what the artisan has made.

Gaulton has grown into her role as pastor’s wife as she has grown Heavenly Treasures into a nonprofit with operations in 17 countries. When asked about the projects she’s most proud of, her thoughts go back to Kenya; Heavenly Treasures involves at least 700 artisans in that country. The organization offers various kinds of training. And there’s a financial co-op for small-business owners.

“All of this,” Gaulton says, “started from us buying a few products from a few people.”

Jessica Jernigan is a writer who lives and works in Michigan.