Stronger Together: we need each other

I recently had the privilege of speaking at a summer youth camp, sharing parts of my personal testimony. The camp’s theme was "Stronger Together," and as I prepared my heart and my words for those young people, I found myself reflecting on what those two words actually mean in the quiet, daily reality of our lives.

For me, "stronger together" isn't a modern self-help slogan or a catchy camp theme. It is a biological, emotional, and spiritual truth. It is the very reason I am still here to tell my story.

Looking back over the last 17 years since the unexpected tragedy that changed my life, I realize that surviving, healing, and continuing to grow has required an entire ecosystem of people. God never designed us to walk this earth as isolated islands, yet we so often try to do exactly that.

To understand why we must stand together, we have to look at two fundamental truths: the fragile nature of our earthly existence, and the divine blueprint for our relationships.

The Vapor of Life and the Suddenness of Change

These concepts are not new. They are as ancient as scripture itself. We live our lives making plans for next week, next year, or our retirement, forgetting how thin the veil truly is between our normal routine and a completely different reality.

The Bible pulls no punches when describing how quickly our earthly status can shift. In the book of James, we are reminded of just how fleeting our time here is:

James 4:14 "Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."

Our life is a vapor. A flash in the pan. A breath in the wind, so quick to be gone.

My own history began with a sudden, tragic accident—a moment that instantly divided my life into "before" and "after." When I spoke to the youth at camp, I wanted them to understand a hard but necessary truth: tragedy does not have an age limit. It does not wait for you to grow up, finish school, get married, or feel "ready." It doesn't respect our timelines.

But as I’ve shared before, it doesn’t even take a massive, dramatic tragedy to completely rewrite the course of your life. It can happen in the middle of a completely normal, everyday event.

Years ago, during my initial recovery at a hospital in Atlanta, Georgia, I looked around at the other patients sharing the rehabilitation unit with me. Some of them were there, like you might expect, due to high-impact car accidents or traumatic gunshot wounds. But others were there because of things so mundane, so ordinary, that you would never think twice about them:

• One patient was there simply because they tripped over a loose shoelace.
• Another was wearing a favorite knitted sweater, and as they stood up from a porch swing, a single button got caught causing the wooden swing to hit her where her neck and head meet.

A loose string. A snagged button.

These were not daredevils or people taking massive risks. They were just living a normal day, and in a fraction of a second, an ordinary moment turned into a life-altering catastrophe. If our lives can hinge on something as small as a shoelace or a button, how can we possibly think we are strong enough to walk this path alone?

The Divine Rescue of Community

Because our lives are so fragile, and because the unexpected is always just around the corner, God built a safety net into the very fabric of creation: each other.

When my accident happened, my need for people was immediate and overwhelming. In the beginning, I needed the highly specialized, intense physical care of doctors, surgeons, and therapists. As the weeks turned to months, I needed the round-the-clock care and comfort of nurses, family, and close friends. And alongside them, I needed the community of people who sent cards, wrote notes, offered up prayers, and visited me—small gestures of encouragement that kept my spirit alive when my body was broken.

Even now, 17 years later, that need has not disappeared. I still need people. I still rely on their expertise, their physical assistance, and their encouragement when I am trying to make new physical gains and push past my current limitations.

Scripture speaks directly to this lifelong, reciprocal need for partnership in the book of Ecclesiastes:

Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 "Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up."

There is a profound warning in that verse: "Woe to him that is alone when he falleth." Falling is an inevitable part of the human experience. We will fall physically, emotionally, and spiritually. The tragedy isn't the fall itself; the tragedy is falling without a hand to reach down and pull you back up.

The Power of Your Circle

We have all heard the secular phrases before: "There is strength in numbers," or "Show me your friends, and I’ll show you your future." But these aren't just modern sociological observations. Who you surround yourself with—your "circle"—has a massive, undeniable influence on your life, whether you want to admit it or not.

The writer of Proverbs understood the sharpening power of deep, intentional relationships:

Proverbs 27:17 "Iron sharpeneth iron; so a man sharpeneth the countenance of his friend."

If we surround ourselves with dull, unsupportive, or negative influences, we become dull. But when we build a circle of faith, strength, and encouragement, we sharpen one another. Throughout scripture, we are given beautiful, concrete examples of people who survived their darkest moments purely because of the strength of their circle.

1. Aaron and Hur: Holding Up Weary Hands

In Exodus 17, the Israelites found themselves in a fierce battle against the Amalekites. Moses discovered that as long as he held up his staff in his hands, Israel prevailed. But Moses was a human being, and his arms grew heavy.

Exodus 17:12 "But Moses' hands were heavy; and they took a stone, and put it under him, and he sat thereon; and Aaron and Hur stayed up his hands, the one on the one side, and the other on the other side; and his hands were steady until the going down of the sun."

Moses was a great leader, chosen by God, but he could not hold his hands up alone. He needed Aaron and Hur to literally carry the weight for him. Sometimes, we are Moses—weary, exhausted, unable to keep fighting. In those moments, we need friends who will bring us a stone to sit on and hold our hands high until the victory is won.

2. The Lame Man’s Friends: Tearing Down Barriers

In Mark chapter 2, we find the story of a man sick with palsy (paralyzed) who desperately needed to get to Jesus. The house where Jesus was teaching was so packed with crowds that there was absolutely no way through the door.

A lesser circle of friends might have said, "Well, we tried. We’ll come back tomorrow." But this man’s circle was different.

Mark 2:4-5 "And when they could not come nigh unto him for the press, they uncovered the roof where he was: and when they had broken it up, they let down the bed wherein the sick of the palsy lay. When Jesus saw their faith, he said unto the sick of the palsy, Son, thy sins be forgiven thee."

Notice that scripture says Jesus saw their faith—the collective faith of the friends who carried the stretcher, climbed the roof, and tore up the tiles. This man received his healing and walked out on his own two feet because he had a circle of friends who refused to let barriers stand between him and his miracle.

3. Jonathan and David: Strength in the Wilderness

When David was on the run for his life, hunted like an animal by King Saul, he was isolated, terrified, and weary. In his moment of deepest despair, Saul’s own son, Jonathan, risked everything to find David in the woods.

1 Samuel 23:16 "And Jonathan Saul's son arose, and went to David into the wood, and strengthened his hand in God."

Jonathan didn’t offer David a military strategy or a political alliance; he went into the dark woods simply to strengthen his hand in God. He reminded David of God's promises when David was too tired to remember them himself. That is the ultimate purpose of a godly circle: to point us back to the Father when our own strength is gone.

Who is in Your Circle?

Because our circle has such a powerful influence on us, we must be incredibly intentional about who we allow into our inner world. The Bible warns us about the quiet, eroding power of poor companionship:

1 Corinthians 15:33 "Be not deceived: evil communications corrupt good manners."

If we surround ourselves with people who feed our fears, validate our excuses, or pull us away from our faith, we will slowly find ourselves slipping. But when we choose a circle like the ones Moses, the lame man, and David had, we build a foundation that can withstand any storm.

As you look at your own life today, ask yourself:

1. Who is holding up your hands when you get weary? Do you have an Aaron and a Hur in your corner?
2. Who is willing to help you tear off the roof to get to Jesus? Do your friends push you closer to God, or do they pull you away?
3. Are you being that friend to someone else?

Tied Together for the Journey

Our lives are indeed a vapor. We do not know what tomorrow holds, and we cannot guarantee that a simple walk down the driveway or a button on a sweater won't change everything in an instant. Tragedy and change are unpredictable, and they do not wait for us to be ready.

But we do not have to walk this fragile road in fear. God has given us a remedy for our vulnerability: each other.

By building a strong, godly circle, by opening ourselves up to receive help, and by standing ready to hold up the hands of those who are weary, we fulfill the ultimate law of Christ. Let us cherish our circle, guard our influences, and live out the truth every single day that we are, by God's perfect design, stronger together.

Galatians 6:2 "Bear ye one another's burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ."

 

Protected More Than I Knew

A Warning Sign I Didn't Understand

As I have reflected on different parts of my recovery journey, I have recently found myself thinking about an event that happened in 2012. At the time, I knew it was serious, but I do not think I fully understood just how serious it could have become.

After my motorcycle accident and the surgeries that followed, I began developing painful fluid pockets on my back. They would swell and become very uncomfortable. One of them was removed, but the fluid pockets continued to return.

There was one in particular that became especially painful. The pain grew so intense that I was taking Tylenol every four hours just to get some relief. Despite everything I had already endured during my recovery, this was a difficult and frustrating experience.

Then one day, the fluid pocket burst.

I knew something was wrong. I went to the emergency room, where they examined the area and took a swab for testing. A short time later, the lab results came back showing that bacteria was growing in the sample.

Prior to that, I had undergone scans, including CT scans and ultrasounds, to make sure my vertebrae had healed properly. Discussions had already begun about removing the metal hardware from my back. However, after the fluid pocket burst and the testing revealed bacteria, the situation suddenly became much more urgent.

The doctors quickly scheduled surgery and moved forward with removing the hardware.

Looking back now, I realize there was much more at stake than I understood at the time. An infection around implanted hardware is not something to take lightly. Had it continued to spread, it could have affected my bones, entered my bloodstream, or caused serious complications throughout my body.

At the time, I was focused on getting through the pain and dealing with whatever came next. Years later, I find myself reflecting on how close I may have been to an even greater medical crisis.

Sometimes we only recognize the significance of certain moments when we look back. What seemed like another setback in my recovery may have actually been a warning sign that led doctors to discover a problem before it became far worse.

As I think about that experience today, I am reminded that there are times when God protects us from dangers we do not fully see or understand. We often focus on the trials we face, but sometimes the greater story is found in what never happened because of His provision and care.

There is still much about that season of my recovery that I continue to process and reflect upon. But one thing is certain: looking back now, I realize I may have been protected more than I knew.

The Blessings We Never See

As I have reflected on this experience, I have realized that the infection itself is only part of the story. The greater lesson may be how often we are unaware of what God is protecting us from.

At the time, I knew the fluid pockets were painful. I knew the surgery was necessary. What I did not fully appreciate was how much worse the situation could have become had the infection spread further. There are countless dangers, both seen and unseen, from which the Lord protects us every day.

Psalm 121:7-8 "The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: he shall preserve thy soul. The LORD shall preserve thy going out and thy coming in from this time forth, and even for evermore."

Many times, we thank God for the blessings we can see while never realizing the problems He prevented altogether.

The longer I live, the more I realize that we often focus on the blessings we can clearly identify while overlooking countless others. We thank God for the prayers He answered, but we rarely think about the prayers we never knew we needed. We celebrate the doors He opened, but we seldom consider the dangers He closed off before we ever encountered them.

I think about the infection in my back and wonder how many times God has intervened in my life without me fully realizing it. At the time, I only saw the pain, the doctor visits, and the uncertainty. Looking back now, I can see that what felt like a setback may have actually been a mercy. The bursting of that fluid pocket was frightening, but it also led to the discovery of a problem that needed immediate attention.

How many times has the Lord protected me in ways I never recognized?

The truth is that none of us really know. We do not know how many accidents were avoided, how many illnesses were prevented, or how many situations were redirected by God's hand. We simply trust that He is faithful.

Psalm 91:11 reminds us, "For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways."

That verse does not mean we will never face hardship. My own life is evidence that trials still come. However, it does remind me that God is actively involved in the lives of His children. Even when we cannot see what He is doing, He is still working.

Perhaps that is why gratitude is so important. If we only thank God for the blessings we can identify, we may miss countless reasons to be thankful. Every ordinary day is filled with mercies we often overlook. Every breath, every step, every moment of strength, and every obstacle that never materialized is a reminder of God's care.

When I stop and think about it, I realize that some of the greatest blessings in my life may be the ones I never saw at all.

Every Improvement Matters

My recovery has also taught me to appreciate small victories. Before my accident, there were countless things I did without a second thought. I never considered what a gift it was to walk, maintain my balance, swallow, tie my shoes, or brush my teeth. Today, I celebrate milestones that many people might overlook.

Recently, I discovered that I can now puff my cheeks out and hold air in them. To most people, that probably sounds insignificant. Yet for me, it represents progress. It represents muscles strengthening, nerves responding, and abilities returning that were once lost.

It reminds me that every improvement matters.

Sometimes the things we did as children for fun were actually developing muscles, coordination, and abilities we would one day depend upon. We rarely think about those things until they become difficult.

Perhaps that is true spiritually as well. We often take God's daily provisions for granted because they seem ordinary. Yet every breath, every step, every movement, every answered prayer, and every danger avoided is evidence of His grace. Those gifts should never be taken lightly.

The older I get and the further I move along this recovery journey, the more I realize that nothing should be taken for granted. Every step forward is worth celebrating. Every ability is a gift. And every day is another reminder that God has been protecting and sustaining me in ways I may never fully understand this side of heaven.

 Be encouraged. 🧡

Understanding More of the Puzzle

Understanding More of the Puzzle

John 8:32 "And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."

I don't mean to always be talking about my medical appointments, but that is my current situation, and I want to let people know how it's going so you can weigh in and let me know if this seems like a good direction.

Recently, I visited an ear, nose, and throat doctor (ENT) because of a recommendation that followed my swallow study. I had actually seen this same doctor at least twelve years ago for these issues. At that time, he performed several esophageal dilations using a gauge and also injected Botox into the muscle that should paralyze it (relax) to open to allow swallowing.

When I scheduled this recent appointment, I wasn't entirely sure what the purpose would be. Nothing had changed, and those previous procedures did not produce any noticeable results. However, I am very glad I went.

The doctor remembered me and my situation, and many of my questions were finally answered. I was able to talk through several concerns and gain a better understanding of what is actually happening. As someone who likes to be informed, that was valuable in itself.

Working with Speech Therapy and Understanding the Swallowing Process

Proverbs 4:7 "Wisdom is the principal thing; therefore get wisdom: and with all thy getting get understanding."

I explained that I am currently working with a speech therapist and that I recently completed another swallow study. We discussed the exercises I am doing and what they are intended to accomplish.

One thing he explained is that these exercises are not about strengthening the muscles in my throat the way someone would strengthen a bicep in the gym. The muscles involved in swallowing do not increase in mass through exercise like other muscles.

Instead, the exercises are helping coordination and reflexes.

My upper esophageal sphincter (UES) is an involuntary muscle. I cannot consciously command it to open or close. Because my brain injury affected coordination and reflexes, the exercises are designed to improve timing and communication between the brain and the swallowing muscles.

The doctor compared swallowing to throwing a curveball. A pitcher must coordinate numerous muscles with precise timing. If one movement happens too early or too late, the ball will not spin correctly. Swallowing works much the same way. One event must occur at exactly the right time before the next event can happen.

That explanation made a great deal of sense to me.

He also explained that a swallow study does not show the entire esophagus. We know that the esophagus works through coordinated contractions that move food toward the stomach. He suspects that the coordination of that process may also have been affected by my brain injury.

Neurological Factors: Nerves, Spasticity, and Ataxia

2 Timothy 1:7 "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

Ultimately, the doctor helped me understand that my swallowing difficulties are primarily neurological.

While muscles are involved, muscles rely on nerves to tell them when to contract and when to relax. If the nerve signals are disrupted, the muscles cannot function as intended.

This made me think about something my chiropractor has often mentioned: my muscles are extremely tight. I have muscle spasticity, which is abnormal muscle tightness. It stands to reason that this would affect internal muscles as well as the ones I can see.

I also have ataxia, which affects coordination. One example is that walking and talking at the same time can be surprisingly difficult. When I try to do both simultaneously, my walking often suffers because my brain is trying to process multiple tasks at once.

Understanding these challenges does not eliminate them, but it does help me better understand what my therapy is trying to accomplish.

Exploring a New Procedure

Proverbs 22:3 "The prudent man foreseeth the evil, and hideth himself: but the simple pass on, and are punished."

The doctor also discussed a newer procedure that has become more common over the past few years.

Rather than using a traditional gauge dilation for the entire esophagus, this method uses a specialized balloon. Because the upper portion of the esophagus is more oval-shaped than round, a double-balloon system can better fit that shape.

When inflated, the balloons stretch the area and may break some of the muscle fibers that contribute to the tightness.

Neither of us knows whether this procedure will help. However, we agreed that sometimes you do not know unless you try.

So I am going to schedule the procedure.

If it helps, wonderful. If it does not, then at least we will have explored another option and gained more information.

Brain Pathways, Learning, and Recovery

Romans 12:2 "Be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind."

People often say that you cannot teach an old dog new tricks, but that is not entirely true.

A child's brain may learn faster than mine does today, but the brain retains an amazing ability to adapt and learn throughout life.

The goal of many of these exercises is to help establish new neurological pathways. Through repetition, practice, and consistency, the brain can learn alternative routes for accomplishing tasks.

That process takes time.

It takes patience.

And it takes persistence.

But it is possible.

Finding Peace in What I Cannot Control

Proverbs 3:5 "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding."

There is something strangely comforting in knowing that my UES is an involuntary muscle.

I cannot simply decide to open it through willpower any more than I can consciously control my heartbeat. For years, I think part of me carried the burden of feeling as though I should somehow be able to make it work if I just tried hard enough.

What brings me peace is not that I have stopped trying. It is that I finally understand the issue better.

For years, swallowing felt like a mystery. I knew what was not working, but I did not fully understand why. Now I have a clearer picture of how my brain injury, coordination, reflexes, and muscle function all fit together.

At times, I found myself looking at teaching hospitals and specialty programs, wondering if there might be someone else who could provide the explanations I was missing. I wasn't necessarily searching for a miracle cure as much as I was searching for understanding.

What surprised me was that many of the answers I had been seeking were provided during this appointment with my ENT. He took the time to explain what was happening, why the therapies were being recommended, and how the neurological aspects of my injury continue to affect swallowing. For the first time in a long while, I felt like I had a clearer picture of the situation.

Learning more about the neurological side of swallowing has changed my perspective.

My responsibility is not to directly control the UES. My responsibility is to faithfully do the work that may help my brain build stronger pathways, improve coordination, and develop better communication with the muscles involved in swallowing.

That distinction brings tremendous relief.

The outcome is not entirely in my hands, but the effort is.

I can show up to therapy.

I can practice the exercises.

I can remain consistent.

And then I can trust God with the parts that are beyond my control.

Understanding more of the puzzle has not removed the challenge, but it has replaced confusion with clarity. And sometimes clarity is a gift in itself.

The Blind Man and Simple Obedience

John 9:7  "He went his way therefore, and washed, and came seeing."

As I reflected on all of this, my mind went to the blind man in John chapter 9.

The man had no control over his blindness. He could not repair his eyes. He could not create his own healing.

Jesus placed clay upon his eyes and told him to wash in the pool of Siloam.

The instruction may have seemed simple. It may even have seemed insignificant.

Yet the man obeyed.

He did what was within his power to do and trusted God with what was beyond his ability.

That speaks deeply to me.

My exercises may not seem dramatic. They may appear repetitive and small. Yet my responsibility is not to control the outcome. My responsibility is to faithfully do what has been placed before me.

Confidence is not believing that I can fix everything.

Confidence is trusting God while faithfully doing the next thing He has given me to do.

Laying Down the Weight

1 Peter 5:7 "Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you."

For a long time, I think I carried a weight that never truly belonged to me.

Somewhere in the back of my mind was the belief that there had to be something more I should be doing—some hidden answer I needed to discover, some missing piece I was responsible for finding.

I kept feeling as though there must be another solution, another effort, another strategy waiting just around the corner.

But lately, I am beginning to see something different.

Not every burden is mine to carry.

Not every problem is mine to solve.

Not every outcome is mine to control.

There may not be another layer to uncover.

There may not be another weight to pick up.

Perhaps my responsibility is simply to be faithful with what I know today, continue doing the work in front of me, and trust God with the parts that belong to Him.

For once, that realization feels less like surrender and more like freedom.

Not more striving.

Not more pressure.

Not more weight.

Just peace.

And after many years of searching for answers, that peace feels like a gift from God.

Personal Training

One exciting development in my recovery journey is that I recently completed my first session with a personal trainer. After years of learning how to compensate for injuries and adapt to physical limitations, I am now beginning the process of refining some of those habits.

Many of the movements and patterns I developed over the years were necessary. They helped me regain independence and keep moving forward. But now, with guidance and intentional training, I have an opportunity to improve the quality of those movements.

One of my primary goals is to improve my gait, or walking posture. That means slowing down my walking, engaging my core, and being more conscious about bending my right leg, which remains my weaker side. For years, my brain has naturally encouraged me to protect that side and place more trust in my stronger leg. The challenge now is teaching my brain that my right leg can do more than it thinks.

Recovery is often as much neurological as it is physical. My body must learn to trust itself again. By slowing down and allowing proper movement patterns to develop, I hope to engage muscles that have been underused and improve my balance, stability, and confidence.

I'm excited to see what unfolds in the coming months. Every step may be slower, but each step is also more intentional. Sometimes progress isn't about moving faster; it's about moving better.

Continuing to Learn

Philippians 3:14 "I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus."

If there is one thing I have learned through this journey, it is that recovery is rarely a straight line. Sometimes progress comes through answers. Sometimes it comes through therapy. Sometimes it comes through trying a new procedure. And sometimes it comes through learning a better way to do something I have been doing for years.

For a long time, I viewed recovery as reaching a destination. Now I am beginning to see it more as a process of continual learning. Each appointment, each exercise, each conversation, and each new challenge reveals another piece of the puzzle.

I do not know what the future holds. I do not know whether the upcoming procedure will help. I do not know how much improvement may come from speech therapy or personal training. But I do know this: God has been faithful through every stage of this journey, and He has never stopped teaching me.

Today, I understand a little more than I did yesterday. I have a little more direction than I had before. And I have renewed hope that growth is still possible.

So I will keep doing the next thing.

I will keep showing up to therapy.

I will keep practicing the exercises.

I will keep taking intentional steps.

And I will keep trusting God with the results.

After all these years, I am still learning, still growing, and still discovering that God's work in my life is not finished yet.

Be encouraged. 🧡

Never Finished Healing

As many of you know, I have recently restarted some speech and swallowing therapy exercises. While those areas remain important to me, there is another journey I am preparing to begin—one-on-one personal training sessions through the YMCA.

Some may wonder why I am choosing to pursue this now.

The answer is simple: I believe I am in a place physically where I can continue making gains in areas that perhaps I was not ready to tackle before. I feel stronger than I once did, and I am hopeful that I can continue advancing my recovery and independence.

Recovery is not always about returning to where you were. Sometimes it is about becoming stronger than you were yesterday.

A New Challenge

The areas I hope to improve are balance, coordination, and movement. Those may sound like simple things to many people, but they are areas that can impact nearly every part of daily life.

There is also another challenge I hope to work on—something that happens in my mind.

Many times, when faced with a task, my first thought is not always, "I can do that."

Instead, my brain often tells me that I cannot. It warns me that it may be unsafe, too difficult, or outside of my abilities. While caution can be helpful, there are times when fear becomes a barrier instead of a protection.

I want to learn how to quiet those thoughts and focus instead on finding a way to accomplish the task before me.

Not recklessly.

Not foolishly.

But confidently.

I want to continue discovering what is possible instead of assuming something is impossible.

2 Timothy 1:7 "For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind."

Excited and Nervous

If I am honest, I feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness.

This next step feels different from many of the therapies I have done before. It feels less like learning something new and more like fine-tuning something that already exists.

I want my movement to become smoother and more graceful rather than rigid and forced.

I know there are challenges that stand in my way.

I live with ataxia, among other physical limitations, and those things affect balance, coordination, and movement. I understand that there are realities I must work with and limitations I may always face.

But I have also learned something over the years.

Improvement is possible.

Maybe not always in giant leaps.

Maybe not always at the speed we would like.

But improvement is possible.

How I Define Success

Success may mean different things to different people.

For me, success is not measured in leaps and bounds.

It is measured in steps.

If there is something I can do today that I could not do yesterday, that is success.

If my balance improves slightly, that is success.

If I become a little more confident in my movements, that is success.

If I learn a new way to accomplish a task independently, that is success.

Sometimes we become so focused on the finish line that we fail to celebrate the progress we are making along the way.

The truth is that every accomplishment is built one step at a time.

Galatians 6:9 "And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not."

Finding the Edge

There is another thought that often makes me smile.

If you have ever filled out an intake form at a doctor's office or therapy appointment, you have probably seen the question:

"Have you fallen in the last 12 months?"

Most of the time, my answer has been yes.

Now, before anyone panics, I should clarify that I rarely fall these days compared to years ago. My balance has improved tremendously, and many times I can catch myself before a stumble turns into a fall.

Still, every time I see that question, a humorous thought crosses my mind.

Part of me thinks, "If I answer no, am I really trying hard enough?"

Of course, I understand the purpose of the question. Safety matters, and I certainly do not want to take unnecessary risks. But there is also a deeper truth hidden in that thought.

How do we discover our limits if we never test them?

How do we learn what we are capable of if we never step beyond what feels comfortable?

Many of the improvements I have made over the years happened because I was willing to attempt something that felt difficult, awkward, or even a little intimidating.

If I always stayed where I felt completely safe, I might never discover what I was actually capable of doing.

Growth often happens at the edge of our comfort zone.

Not in reckless abandon, but in courageous persistence.

Sometimes we have to lean forward a little before we realize God has already given us the strength to take the next step.

God's Strength Along the Way

When I look back over my journey, I know I have not reached this point on my own.

Without God's strength, His mercy, His courage, and His faithfulness, I would not be able to do the things I do today.

There have been many moments when I wanted to quit.

Many moments when progress seemed slow.

Many moments when the mountain in front of me appeared too large to climb.

Yet God continued to carry me through.

Every milestone, every improvement, every victory belongs first to Him.

Isaiah 40:31 "But they that wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint."

Never Finished Healing

If I am completely honest, there are still times when I wish I could be exactly as I was before my accident.

I think that desire is natural.

But I am also a realist.

While I choose to remain positive and hopeful, I understand that expecting a complete return to the person I once was is not realistic.

Instead, I choose to focus on what is possible.

I choose to focus on the next step.

I choose to focus on the improvements that can still be made.

Because healing is rarely a single event.

It is often a lifelong journey.

Even seventeen years after my accident, I am still learning, still adapting, and still finding opportunities to grow.

A Lesson for the Soul

As I think about this physical journey, I cannot help but see similarities to our spiritual walk.

Just as our bodies require attention, growth, and continual improvement, so do our souls.

I do not believe we ever truly arrive.

There is always something God is teaching us.

Always an area where we can grow.

Always a lesson to learn.

Always a closer walk with Christ to pursue.

The Christian life is not about reaching a point where we no longer need God.

It is about continually depending on Him as He shapes us into what He wants us to become.

Philippians 1:6 "Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ."

Looking Ahead

As I prepare to begin these personal training sessions, I do not know exactly what the future holds.

There will undoubtedly be challenges.

There will likely be frustrations.

There may even be days when progress seems invisible.

But I also believe there will be lessons learned, confidence gained, and unexpected victories along the way.

For now, I am choosing to take the next step.

Not because I know exactly where the path leads.

But because I know Who walks beside me.

And sometimes, the greatest victories begin with simply being willing to try.

So, I Ask

• Is there an area of your life where fear is holding you back from taking the next step?
• Have you been overlooking small victories because you are focused only on major accomplishments?
• What is one way God has strengthened you during a difficult season?
• Are you allowing yourself to grow one step at a time, or are you demanding instant results?

No matter where you find yourself today, remember this:

Progress is still progress, even when it comes one small step at a time.

 Be encouraged. 🧡

 Listen to these lyrics! 🎵Waiting in the Water

Seeking Clarity While Walking by Faith

There are seasons in life when we desperately want answers.

We want to know why something happened.

We want to know what caused it.

We want to know what can be fixed, what cannot be fixed, and what the future may hold.

For me, one of those questions has centered around my swallowing difficulties.

For many years, I have known that my upper esophageal sphincter (UES) muscle does not function properly. This is the muscle at the top of the esophagus that should relax and open to allow food and liquid to pass into the stomach.

Recently, a swallow study confirmed that the muscle remains tight and does not open as it should. But the study also revealed other findings that gave me more to think about.

My epiglottis, which helps protect the airway during swallowing, does not completely close over the airway.

My larynx moves upward, but it does not move forward the way it should during swallowing.

As I reflected on those findings, I began wondering whether the tracheostomy I had for three months after my accident may have contributed to some of those issues.

After doing some research and discussing it with my speech therapist, I learned that a tracheostomy can sometimes affect laryngeal movement. At the same time, we know that my swallowing difficulties cannot be explained entirely by that one factor.

My situation is more complicated than that.

There are multiple pieces to the puzzle.

And that led me to a question I have wrestled with for quite some time.

Muscular or Neurological?

I have often wondered whether my swallowing difficulties are primarily muscular, neurological, or some combination of both.

The distinction seemed important to me.

If something is muscular, perhaps it can be strengthened and improved through exercises and therapy.

If something is neurological, the path forward may look very different.

For a while, I found myself thinking about that question quite often.

I wanted clarity.

I wanted to understand.

I wanted to know exactly what I was dealing with.

But the more I thought about it, the more another question began to emerge.

What Would Change Today?

What would actually change for me today if I knew the answer?

That question stopped me in my tracks.

If the problem is muscular, I still need to do my exercises.

If the problem is neurological, I still need to do my exercises.

If it is some combination of both, I still need to do my exercises.

No matter what category my difficulties fall into, the work in front of me remains the same.

I still need to be faithful with what I have been given today.

And that realization brought me peace.

Faith and Action Work Together

One verse that has continually come back to my mind is:

James 2:22 "Seest thou how faith wrought with his works, and by works was faith made perfect?"

For a long time, I think I struggled with whether seeking answers somehow demonstrated a lack of faith.

I did not want to pursue additional evaluations or specialists if doing so meant I was doubting God.

But that is not what this verse teaches.

Faith and action are not opposites.

Faith and works are not enemies.

Faith works alongside action.

Faith continues moving forward.

Faith continues doing what can be done.

Faith continues trusting God while taking the next step.

For me, that means continuing the swallowing exercises my therapist has given me.

It means putting in the effort.

It means remaining faithful with the opportunities and resources God has already provided.

Seeking Wisdom Is Not the Same as Doubting

As I thought more about my situation, I began researching specialized medical centers and teaching hospitals that focus on complex swallowing disorders.

There may be opportunities in the future to pursue additional evaluations.

There may be specialists who can provide greater clarity regarding some of the questions I still have.

And I have come to realize that seeking wisdom is not the same as doubting God.

Throughout Scripture, God's people sought wisdom, understanding, and counsel.

Seeking knowledge does not diminish faith.

Sometimes it is simply part of good stewardship.

If God desires for me to travel further down that road and seek additional answers, I believe He is capable of opening the right doors at the right time.

He knows where the answers are.

He knows who has the knowledge.

He knows what I need.

And He knows when I need it.

Trusting God With the Unknown

One of the hardest parts of any long journey is learning to live with unanswered questions.

We naturally want certainty.

We want a roadmap.

We want explanations.

But sometimes God gives us enough light for the next step instead of the entire journey.

Proverbs 3:5–6 "Trust in the LORD with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths."

That does not mean we stop learning.

It does not mean we stop asking questions.

It does not mean we stop seeking wisdom.

It means we do not place our confidence in our own understanding above our confidence in God.

Doing Today's Work

I have not received every answer I would like.

There are still questions.

There are still possibilities.

There are still things I do not fully understand.

But I have become increasingly convinced that my responsibility is not to solve every mystery today.

My responsibility is to do today's work.

Today's exercises.

Today's therapy.

Today's prayers.

Today's obedience.

The future answers can wait for the future.

If Clarity Comes

If God chooses to provide greater clarity through specialists, testing, or future evaluations, I will be thankful.

If He opens those doors, I will walk through them.

But until then, I will continue moving forward with what I already know.

And if one day healing comes—whether gradually, unexpectedly, or in a way that cannot be fully explained—I want God to receive the glory.

Psalm 115:1 "Not unto us, O LORD, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake."

As I continued reflecting on my questions, James 2:22, and the work that is presently before me, I was reminded of something I have often spoken to the Lord about in my private prayers.

For many years, I loved to sing. Singing requires breath support, stamina, and lung capacity. Since my accident, however, my lungs are not what they once were. Between a collapsed lung, scar tissue, a tracheostomy that remained for a long period of time, and other complications, my breathing capacity is noticeably different than it was before.

One of the things I am currently working on is learning to take deeper breaths from my diaphragm rather than relying on shallow breathing. Some of the exercises my therapists have recommended include using an EMST device, which requires forceful exhalation to strengthen muscles involved in swallowing. Yet, as I have thought about it, I realize it serves more than one purpose. While these exercises are designed to help my swallowing, they are also helping strengthen my breath support and endurance.

Likewise, many of the exercises I do in speech therapy are intended to strengthen muscles involved in swallowing, but they also strengthen muscles used for speaking (and singing). The very things I have been praying about are, in some measure, being addressed through the work that is set before me today.

That realization reminded me of an important truth: many times when we ask God for something, He does not simply hand it to us. Instead, He gives us an opportunity to work toward it. He opens a door, provides a tool, sends instruction, or places a task in front of us. We still have to walk through the door, use the tool, follow the instruction, and do the work.

Perhaps part of the answer to some of my prayers is not found in waiting for a dramatic change, but in faithfully taking the next breath, doing the next exercise, and being diligent with the opportunities God has already provided. The Lord may choose to grant greater improvement, or He may not. That part remains in His hands. My responsibility is simply to be faithful with what He has placed before me today.

I do not want to squander an opportunity that God may be using to answer a prayer I have prayed for years. James 2:22 reminds us that faith works alongside action. While I trust God for the outcome, I also want to faithfully do the work that is presently in front of me and leave the results in His hands.

Ecclesiastes 9:10 "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might..."

Final Thoughts

Perhaps the greatest peace does not come from having all the answers.

Perhaps it comes from knowing what we need to do today.

I may not fully understand every aspect of my condition.

I may not know exactly how all the pieces fit together.

But I know this:

God is faithful.

The work in front of me is clear.

And I can trust Him with the answers that have not yet come.

Be encouraged. 🧡

We Saw the Truth

Reflections After My Swallow Study

There are certain appointments that carry emotional weight long before they ever arrive. My recent swallow study was one of those appointments.

Leading up to it, I had mentally prepared myself for anxiety, fear, and uncertainty. But interestingly enough, walking into the study itself, I was calmer than I expected to be. I think part of that peace came from simply knowing it was finally time to see the truth clearly.

The speech pathologist conducting the study immediately helped put me at ease with her genuine interest in my history and in understanding what brought me there. That meant more to me than she probably realized. My mom and my own speech pathologist were also there to observe the study, which brought another layer of comfort and support.

During the Study

As part of the swallow study, we worked through various items from the food tray while following specific swallowing instructions. One of the swallowing methods had a long clinical name, but the basic process involved holding my breath, swallowing, coughing, and then swallowing again.

That was the pattern I followed while trying different liquids and pudding consistencies.

Watching the study unfold in real time was both fascinating and emotional. There is something very strange about seeing the mechanics of your own body displayed on an X-ray screen. Things that you cannot normally see suddenly become visible.

What the Study Revealed

Ultimately, I think the overwhelming feeling I walked away with was relief.

The study confirmed what I had already suspected: there had been very minimal improvement since my previous study. While that may sound discouraging to some people, oddly enough, there was peace in finally having confirmation.

One of the main findings was that my upper esophageal sphincter (UES) muscle is still very tightly closed and only barely opening. We could also see on the X-ray that a small amount of the substance being swallowed was entering my airway.

What made this especially significant is that I did not cough or react when it happened. This is known as silent aspiration.

Part of the reason for this appears to involve my epiglottis, which is supposed to fold down over the airway during swallowing to help protect it. Mine is dropping, but not completely covering the airway opening the way it should.

The study also showed that while my larynx moves upward during swallowing, it is not moving forward properly, which is another important part of airway protection.

Hearing these findings was emotional, but at the same time, there was comfort in understanding what was actually happening rather than continuing to wonder.

Areas That Can Still Improve

One encouraging part of the appointment was hearing that several of these areas may still be strengthened through exercises and therapy.

I also realized something during this process: in previous years, I may not have been physically or mentally ready to fully tackle this kind of therapy. There were so many other areas of life, recovery, and survival demanding my attention at the time. Looking back now, I can understand that sometimes people are simply not in the right season yet for certain battles or responsibilities.

Now, however, I feel more prepared to focus intentionally on these goals in a way I may not have been able to before.

One of the methods discussed was EMST, or Expiratory Muscle Strength Training. I have already started looking into purchasing one of the small handheld devices used for these breathing and strengthening exercises.

For the first time in a while, I felt like we were not simply looking at problems — we were identifying specific areas that could potentially improve.

That does not mean the road ahead will be easy.

There is still a great deal of work ahead of me.

But having direction changes everything.

The Relief of Knowing

One of my greatest fears before the study was not necessarily that something major had happened.

My greatest fear was that something major had happened and I did not know it.

That uncertainty can weigh heavily on the mind.

So in many ways, I was thankful that the study did not reveal some major unseen decline. Instead, it revealed the truth of the situation honestly and clearly.

We saw the truth.

We got the information.

And now we know how to proceed.

Moving Forward

Part of moving forward will also involve revisiting an ENT specialist I saw many years ago, probably at least twelve years ago, for another consultation and updated evaluation.

And honestly, one of the things that brought me the most peace afterward was knowing that everyone involved is finally on the same page.

Now everyone has seen the same study.

Everyone understands the same findings.

Everyone has seen the reality of what is happening and what is meaningful moving forward.

There is comfort in shared understanding.

Even when the news is not perfect, clarity itself can still bring peace.

Faith and Expectation

It may seem strange that I wasn't especially hopeful or expecting a larger amount of the food to move into my stomach during the study. I am always hopeful, because I know the Lord is able to do whatever He wills. At the same time, I was also prepared to accept whatever the study revealed, trusting that truth and clarity would be more valuable than assumption.

Realistic Hope and the Work Ahead

I am a positive person, but I am also a realist. I can sometimes be very factual in my delivery rather than always being emotionally reflective, and I am working on that balance.

Going forward, I know there will be several exercises for strengthening. I think the ones that involve visible movement in my face, mouth, tongue, and speech will not be the hardest for me to stay engaged with. The more difficult ones will likely be the internal strengthening exercises — the ones that I cannot see visible results from and that feel hidden from me. Those may be the harder ones to stay motivated through, but I am determined to do this. That is not in question for me.

I know that everything is a process, made up of small steps. Rome was not built in a day, and everything I have ever learned or improved in my life has taken time, effort, practice, and repetition. This will be no different. I believe I will gain results over time.

The initial goals will likely focus on rebuilding coordination and strengthening pathways that have not been consistently used for many years. In a way, it feels like retraining communication between my brain and different parts of my body. I do not always have the perfect words to describe it, but that is the best way I can explain it right now.

At first, we may even be focusing on something as basic as managing my own saliva. Even that alone would be a significant milestone — not needing to constantly rely on a cup or worry about frequent spitting and management throughout the day. That would be a meaningful step forward in daily life.

What I Walk Away With

I do not walk away from this study feeling hopeless.

I walk away feeling informed.

I walk away grateful for honest answers.

And while the improvements may not yet be dramatic, I am thankful there are still things to work toward.

Sometimes peace does not come from hearing perfect news.

Sometimes peace comes from finally seeing the truth clearly enough to know where to go from here.

John 8:32  “And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”

I know there is hard work ahead.

But now we have a baseline.

Now we have direction.

And now we move forward from here.

Looking Ahead

So no, I do not walk away from this study devastated.

And I do not walk away pretending the challenges are smaller than they are either.

What I walk away with is clarity.

I walk away with understanding.

I walk away knowing that there are still muscles that may be strengthened, pathways that may be rebuilt, and goals that are still worth pursuing.

Some of those goals may seem small to other people. But when you have lived with limitations for many years, even the smallest victories can carry enormous meaning.

Maybe one day it will mean less dependence on a cup at my side.

Maybe it will mean greater comfort, greater safety, or greater independence in everyday life.

Maybe it will simply mean progress.

And progress matters.

I know this journey will require patience, repetition, consistency, and faith. There will probably be days when the exercises feel tedious, slow, or invisible in their results. But nearly everything meaningful in my life has required time, persistence, and determination.

This will not be any different.

Most importantly, I know that God sees every hidden struggle — even the ones no one else fully understands.

And while I do not know exactly what the future holds, I do know this:

I am not where I once was.

I am not walking this road alone.

And I am finally in a season where I feel ready to face this part of my recovery with intention, honesty, and hope.

Galatians 6:9 “And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.”

So for now, we keep moving forward.
One exercise.
One step.
One small victory at a time.

 Be encouraged. 🧡

When You Need to See it For Yourself

A Study Twelve Years in the Making

In less than a week, I will sit through something I have not experienced in over twelve years.

A swallow study.

For those unfamiliar with it, it is a live X-ray study where foods coated with barium are swallowed so doctors and therapists can visually track what happens inside the mouth, throat, and esophagus in real time. They can watch where things move, where they stop, what muscles respond, and what muscles do not.

The last time I had this done, the foods were simple. Yogurt. Applesauce. Things that required no chewing.

This time is different.

This time, I will likely have to chew something.

Even typing that feels strange.

So lately, I have been trying to prepare myself. Maybe more mentally than physically, though I am doing both. I have been practicing tongue placement exercises. Tongue strengthening exercises. Practicing chewing (gum). Practicing swallowing. Even practicing using a straw more.

Part of me wants to be helpful during the study. Part of me wants to give it my absolute best effort.

And part of me feels almost crazy while doing it.

Because deep down, logically, I keep thinking the same thing.

“What if nothing has really changed?”

The Feeling I Cannot Ignore

Years ago, we already knew part of the issue.

My upper esophageal sphincter muscle (UES) — the muscle that is supposed to open and allow food to pass into the esophagus — was staying tightly closed.

Normally, that muscle opens according to the amount of food or liquid needing to pass through.

Mine did not.

Back then, during the study, we only saw a tiny trickle going down into the stomach. A trickle smaller around than my pinky finger’s diameter.

And now here I am, over a decade later, trying again.

Hoping.

Preparing.

Wondering.

But also noticing things that are hard to ignore.

When I practice swallowing now, sometimes it feels like a little may go down. But after awhile, I can tell something is still sitting there. Not painfully. Not dangerously. Just… there.

I notice it especially when I talk afterward.

It feels like buildup.

Like things are sitting on top of a doorway that still is not opening enough to let them pass through.

And in my mind, I keep thinking:

“If the opening were truly larger… wouldn’t I know?”

Wouldn’t I stop feeling that buildup?

Wouldn’t things feel different?

I do not know.

And maybe that is the hardest part.

Not knowing.

Wanting Hope While Fearing Reality

I think sometimes people assume that when you have lived with something for years, you become emotionally detached from it.

You do not.

At least I have not.

In some ways, this upcoming study feels bigger emotionally than I expected it to.

Because this is not just a medical appointment.

This is a marker.

A milestone.

A visual confirmation of where things truly stand.

Maybe there has been progress.

Maybe there has not.

Maybe there are things happening internally that I cannot accurately judge by feeling alone.

And honestly, I think that is part of why I need to see it.

Not because I distrust God.

Not because I am hopeless.

But because sometimes the mind keeps replaying questions that only truth can quiet.

The Battle Between Logic and Emotion

I keep trying to reason through it.

“If there was improvement, surely I would feel it.”

“If the muscle was opening more, surely I would notice less buildup.”

“If things had dramatically changed, wouldn’t I already know?”

But human bodies are complicated.

Healing is complicated.

Compensation patterns are complicated.

And sometimes we are poor interpreters of our own bodies because we only know what we have experienced.

Maybe there has been improvement.

Maybe there has been partial improvement.

Maybe there are areas that still need work.

Maybe there are approaches we have not considered yet.

This study may answer some of those questions.

Or it may raise new ones.

But either way, I think I need to know.

Seeing What Is Hidden

There is something deeply vulnerable about seeing what is happening inside your own body.

Especially when that body has been through trauma.

Especially when you have spent years adapting, compensating, hoping, grieving, and trying again.

There is vulnerability in watching a screen reveal what you cannot physically see yourself.

But maybe there is also mercy in it.

Because hidden things can torment the mind.

Unknowns can grow larger than reality.

And sometimes clarity — even difficult clarity — gives direction.

Without direction, it is hard to know how to move forward.

If there has been improvement, then I know to keep practicing and pursuing that progress.

If there has not been significant change, then perhaps we approach things differently moving forward.

Either way, avoiding the truth will not help me.

God Sees What We Cannot

One thing that comforts me is this:

Nothing about this is hidden from God.

Not the muscles.

Not the fear.

Not the frustration.

Not the emotional exhaustion.

Not the silent thoughts I do not always say out loud.

He already sees fully what doctors and therapists are only trying to understand partially.

The Lord is not pacing Heaven nervously waiting for results.

He already knows.

And somehow that thought steadies me.

Because while this study may reveal information to me, it reveals nothing new to Him.

Isaiah 55:8  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord.”

Hebrews 4:13  “And there is no creature that is not manifest in his sight: but all things are naked and opened unto the eyes of him with whom we have to do.”

Maybe It Is Okay to Be Honest

I think sometimes we feel pressure to sound fearless.

To sound endlessly positive.

To act unaffected.

But honesty is not lack of faith.

David was honest.

Job was honest.

Jeremiah was honest.

Even while trusting God, they still expressed grief, confusion, fear, and exhaustion.

So here is my honesty:

I am nervous.

I am emotional.

I am mentally struggling with this more than people probably realize.

Part of me hopes for improvement.

Part of me fears disappointment.

Part of me feels foolish for hoping.

Part of me feels foolish for doubting.

And somewhere in the middle of all of that… I simply want truth.

Moving Forward One Step at a Time

Right now, I do not have all the answers.

I do not know exactly what the study will show.

I do not know what the next steps will be afterward.

But I do know this:

Avoiding reality does not create healing.

And facing reality does not remove hope.

Whatever this study reveals, God will still be God afterward.

And I will still keep moving forward one step at a time.

Even if emotionally shaky.

Even if uncertain.

Even if afraid.

Because sometimes courage is not feeling strong.

Sometimes courage is simply showing up willing to see the truth.

Psalm 56:3  “What time I am afraid, I will trust in thee.”

2 Corinthians 12:9  “And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness.”

Learning to Carry What Is Beyond My Control

Maybe part of what makes this so emotionally heavy is not only my own hopes and fears.

Maybe part of it is the weight of not wanting to disappoint the people who love me.

The people praying for me.

The people encouraging me.

The people helping me.

The people who genuinely want to see progress and healing.

When you know others are standing in your corner, you desperately do not want to feel like you are letting them down.

And sometimes, without meaning to, you can start carrying responsibility for outcomes you were never actually in control of.

But the truth is, I cannot force muscles to work.

I cannot will my body into healing faster.

I cannot manufacture results because people care about me.

Some things simply remain beyond human control.

And maybe one of the hardest lessons in life is learning that acceptance is not the same thing as giving up.

Acceptance is not hopelessness.

Acceptance is acknowledging reality honestly while still trusting God faithfully.

It is understanding that my value is not measured by medical progress.

It is realizing that I am not failing because my body struggles.

It is remembering that the people who truly love me are not standing beside me only for victories and breakthroughs — they are standing beside me because they love me.

No matter what the screen shows during that study, I have not failed.

No matter what the results are, God has not failed me.

And no matter what comes next, this journey is not over simply because answers may not look the way I hoped.

Sometimes faith means believing God for miracles.

Sometimes faith means trusting Him while living with unanswered questions.

And sometimes faith means surrendering outcomes we cannot control while continuing to move forward anyway.

Maybe this study will bring encouragement.

Maybe it will bring difficult emotions.

Maybe both.

But whatever happens, I want to walk into that room understanding this:

I do not have to carry the burden of everyone’s expectations.

I only have to take the next step placed in front of me.

And God will still walk beside me there.

1 Peter 5:7  “Casting all your care upon him; for he careth for you.”

Joshua 1:9  “Be strong and of a good courage; be not afraid, neither be thou dismayed: for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest.”

We are not alone.

 Be encouraged. 🧡