​When Prayers Are Kept in Gold (Part 2): Ordered Steps, Surrender, and the Unknown Future ​

In my last post, I shared how the imagery in Revelation—prayers kept in golden vials, precious and never forgotten—helped me process my diagnosis of Eosinophilic Esophagitis (EOE). Receiving that answer on the exact 17th anniversary milestone of my motorcycle accident was a profound reminder that God’s timing is intentional.

​In ancient times and biblical symbolism, gold represents absolute purity and supreme value. God does not treat our petitions as passing, disposable words. He doesn't let them vanish into nothingness. Instead, He preserves them in Heaven like precious treasures.

​Then in Revelation 8:3–4, an angel stands at the golden altar with a censer, and the smoke of that incense—carrying every prayer, every whisper, and every quiet tear—ascends directly before the throne of God. Your words reach the very center of divine authority.

​When Fire Falls: Divine Timing

​Notice what happens next in Revelation 8:5. After the prayers accumulate and the incense rises, the angel takes that same censer, fills it with fire from the altar, and hurls it onto the earth—bringing thunder, lightning, and decisive movement.

​The very vessel that held the quiet, burning prayers of God's people becomes the vessel that carries His power back down to earth.

​This shows us something profound about unanswered prayer: a delay is not indifference—it is preparation.

​God does not operate on a microwave timer. He accumulates our prayers until the precise moment His divine will, timing, and purpose intersect. The vial is filling. When the golden censer is finally poured out, the response carries the full weight of Heaven.

​Looking back on 17 years of prayers that felt unanswered in the moment, I realize now that not a single one was lost in transit. Every prayer offered during those long years was sitting safely in pure gold right at the throne of God, waiting for the right time.

I’ve learned to be content with my circumstances. I have told God that I’d rather enter Heaven like I am than be whole and go to Hell.

​But as I’ve sat with this revelation over the past few days, the Lord has been showing me that the timeline goes even deeper than I initially realized.

​Looking back, I can see a trail of ordered steps. Every closed door, every decision, every person placed in my path was quietly lining up to bring me to this exact moment.

​The Doors That Had to Close: Stepping Away from Teaching

​When you’re in the middle of a life transition, it’s rarely easy. One of the biggest shifts for me was the bittersweet decision to end my time in teaching.

​At the time, walking away from that chapter felt heavy. I knew in my spirit that the Lord was closing that door so He could open new ones, but leaving something familiar is always a test of trust.

​What I didn't see then—what I couldn't see—was that stepping away was a necessary piece of the puzzle.

​If I had stayed on that path, I would not have had the capacity, the flexibility, or the opportunity to meet the specific people I needed to meet, or be in the right places at the right time. Every interaction and shift in my schedule over the last few years was secretly serving a purpose: positioning me to finally receive this diagnosis and the care I needed.

Proverbs 16:9 ​“A man’s heart plans his way, but the Lord directs his steps.”  

​We often want to see the whole staircase, but God usually just shows us the next step. Looking back now, I see that even the painful transitions were acts of protection and preparation.

​Holding Hope Without Demanding Guarantees

I’ll be honest with you: sitting where I am right now is overwhelming.

​I don't know what the future holds with this diagnosis. I don't know every detail of what lies ahead on this medical journey.

​I am remaining extremely positive and hopeful—especially based on the encouraging things I’ve heard from my doctors. But there’s a delicate balance we all have to walk when facing health challenges: how do we hold onto fierce hope without building up human expectations for a specific outcome?

​Scripture tells us that “faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1).

​Faith doesn't demand a guaranteed blueprint from God; it simply chooses to trust Him with the unknown. Keeping that faith alive means choosing to believe that whatever comes, God is already in my tomorrow.

When you spent nearly two decades adapting to unresolved physical symptoms, survival mode becomes your second nature. You learn how to push through the exhaustion, downplay the pain, and adjust your daily routines just to keep moving forward. But when an answer finally comes, it brings a whole new emotional season that nobody really prepares you for—the in-between.

The in-between is that quiet space where the mystery has ended, but the healing journey is just beginning. It’s where relief and grief sit at the very same table.

On one hand, there is a profound, holy wonder in knowing that God heard every prayer and that every piece of your timeline was carefully directed. On the other hand, there is a very human weight in realizing how long you carried the heavy burden of the unknown. Allowing yourself to feel both of those things isn't a lack of faith; it’s simply being honest about the human experience.

God doesn't ask us to put on a brave face or pretend the journey hasn't been tiring. Throughout Scripture, He invites us to bring our rawest emotions right into His presence. In the middle of this in-between space, I am learning that surrender isn't a one-time event—it’s a daily decision. It means laying down my desire to control the outcome, releasing the lingering exhaustion of the past 17 years, and choosing to trust that the same God who held my prayers in gold is holding my tomorrow.

If you find yourself in your own "in-between" right now—standing between a past challenge and an unwritten future—give yourself the grace to breathe. You don't have to have every step mapped out today. You just have to hold onto the One who does.

​The Lies We Reject and the Light We Shine

​As I process all of this, two thoughts have become overwhelming, prominent truths in my spirit.

​First, the enemy loves to whisper quiet lies into our hardest seasons. He wants to tell us that we aren't capable. That we can't do it. That we have no voice, no influence, and that our story makes no difference.

​I want to remind you today: anything the enemy tells you is one big lie.

​You do have a voice. You are heard. Your story does make a difference, and what you do with your life matters deeply.

​My ultimate goal in sharing all of this—the highs, the lows, the diagnoses, and the waiting—is simply to share the goodness of God with a thankful heart. As children of God, that should be our highest calling: to live in such a way that when people look at our lives, they see something unique, different, and undeniably pointing back to Jesus.

​Doing My Part: Faith and Practical Determination

​Refusing to listen to those lies doesn't mean pretending things are easy. It means getting up every day and doing the work, trusting God to supply the strength.

​Recently, I was attending an event at a large facility with over a thousand people. Between the crowds and the long walking distances, using my walker was an absolute necessity. To be completely honest, I’ve never wanted to rely on it less than I did that week.

​While I am grateful for the help when I need it, it is my goal to keep pushing forward, making steady improvements so that one day I may not need it in those spaces. Even small, practical changes make a difference—like finding a backpack for my things so my balance isn't thrown off by carrying weight on just one side.

​I know that physical progress takes time, dedication, and God’s grace. But looking back over my life, that is exactly how I have overcome every single obstacle I’ve ever conquered. God provides the grace, but He also calls us to take the next step.

​Nothing New Under the Sun

​Our struggles may be unique in the details, but as Ecclesiastes reminds us, there is nothing new under the sun. We all carry burdens. We all fight battles—some visible, some hidden.

​My prayer is that by sharing my journey with open hands and an honest heart, you find a spark of encouragement for yours. Whatever battle you are facing today, remember that your prayers are kept in gold, your steps are ordered, your voice matters, and the God who brought you this far is faithful to see you through.

 Be encouraged. 🧡

                                Listen to this song 🎵Middle of a Miracle

Stored Prayers, Sovereign Timing, and the Miracles in Between

Sitting in the Quiet In-Between

I went into my esophageal procedure this week expecting a routine step forward in my swallowing journey—focusing on my esophagus and hoping for clarity. But if there is one lesson chronic medical challenges teach us, it is that our journeys rarely follow our expected human scripts.

During the procedure, my doctor found an unexpected visual concern regarding the tissue lining my esophagus. He immediately took a biopsy to send off for pathology testing. Just like that, the trajectory of my day shifted. I found myself sitting in that familiar, quiet in-between—the space of waiting, holding my breath, and anticipating results.

It is a deeply vulnerable place to be. Your mind wants to race ahead, to anticipate every scenario, and to wrestle with the unknown. Yet, right in the middle of that vulnerability, God showed up in His quiet providence. He gave me a gentle, timely reminder of who is holding my story, who has always held my story, and why I can trust Him with tomorrow.

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."

A Note Tucked Between the Pages

The other day, my mom was looking through my Mamaw's Bible. She passed away almost two years ago, leaving behind a legacy of faith that still warms our hearts. Tucked tenderly between the pages of her well-worn Scripture was a handwritten note in her distinctive, familiar handwriting.

On it, she had written a simple, heartfelt prayer:

"Jesus please heal Felicia completely and thank you holy Father."

Holding that slip of paper brought immediate tears to my eyes. It was a profound reminder that long before I fully understood the depth of my injuries or the long road ahead, someone who loved me was faithfully carrying my name directly before the throne of God.

It immediately brought to mind the vivid imagery in the Book of Revelation, where John describes the atmosphere of heaven and how our earthly petitions are received by God:

Revelation 5:8 "And when he had taken the book, the four beasts and four and twenty elders fell down before the Lamb, having every one of them harps, and golden vials full of odours, which are the prayers of saints."

Later in the vision, John sees these prayers again at the heavenly altar:

Revelation 8:3–4 "And another angel came and stood at the altar, having a golden censer; and there was given unto him much incense, that he should offer it with the prayers of all saints upon the golden altar which was before the throne. And the smoke of the incense, which came with the prayers of the saints, ascended up before God out of the angel's hand."

What an breathtaking promise! Our prayers are never wasted, forgotten, or lost in the ether. God hears them, treasures them, holds them in golden vials, and answers them according to His perfect wisdom and timing.

Remembering the First Miracle

As I reflected on that handwritten note, my mind drifted back to another miracle early in my recovery. Years ago, after my severe motorcycle accident, my right arm would not move at all due to extensive nerve damage. The medical team discussed performing a nerve graft—a complex surgery to reconnect the damaged pathway in hopes of restoring function.

It felt like an overwhelming hurdle. But before that surgery ever became necessary, something incredible happened: my arm began moving again on its own. The neural pathway reconnected, and I never needed that graft. It was a clear, unmistakable touch of God’s restoring hand.

Now, after my recent esophagus procedure, I find myself standing in a strikingly similar place. My doctors explain that my swallowing difficulties aren't simply a matter of strengthening muscles through routine exercise. The deeper challenge is that the nerve pathway between my brain and the involuntary muscles responsible for swallowing must reconnect and function properly. In so many ways, it mirrors what I faced with my arm.

I admitted to my mom that I couldn't understand why one nerve-related issue had fully resolved back then while the other hasn't yet. When I mentioned that connection to her, she looked at me and quietly said something I will never forget:

"I strongly believe your arm recovered because that's something your Mamaw specifically prayed for."

The Persistent Echo of Faith

I can't say exactly how God chooses to answer each individual prayer. I don't know every single petition my Mamaw prayed for me in the quietness of her room, and I certainly don't remember every desperate prayer I prayed for myself during those raw, painful early days.

But I do know this absolute truth: God hears the prayers of His people.

Psalm 34:15 "The eyes of the LORD are upon the righteous, and his ears are open unto their cry."

Sometimes He answers immediately. Sometimes He answers years later. And sometimes He answers after the warrior who prayed has already finished her race and gone home to be with Him. Finding that handwritten note reminded me that even though my Mamaw is no longer here on earth, the God she prayed to is very much alive and present. He has not forgotten me, nor has He forgotten a single word written on that piece of paper.

So while I wait on medical results and continue praying for healing in my swallowing, I find deep hope in remembering that the same God who restored movement to my arm is still fully able to do what seems humanly impossible today. He holds every nerve, every outcome, and every prayer stored up in those golden vials.

Jeremiah 32:17 "Ah Lord GOD! behold, thou hast made the heaven and the earth by thy great power and stretched out arm, and there is nothing too hard for thee."

God in the Details and the Exact Timing

Recently in Sunday school, I was studying the story of Elijah in 1 Kings. Elijah declared a severe drought to King Ahab as a direct judgment upon his kingdom for their disobedience and idol worship. In those days, Baal was worshipped as the god of weather, rain, and agricultural prosperity.

When God answered their idolatry with a drought, it wasn't a random penalty. It was a direct, intentional response that exposed the complete powerlessness of their false god.

1 Kings 17:1 "And Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of Gilead, said unto Ahab, As the LORD God of Israel liveth, before whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but according to my word."

That lesson was a striking reminder that God is meticulously in the details. His timing is exact, His logic is intentional, and His purpose is always specific.

I see that same sovereign design woven throughout my own medical journey right now:

• Step 1: If I hadn’t been working closely with my speech therapist, I wouldn’t have had the specific swallow study that prompted me to revisit my ENT.
• Step 2: If I hadn't gone back to my ENT, he wouldn't have suggested this specific procedure—one we hadn't tried yet.
• Step 3: If we hadn't agreed to move forward with the procedure, he never would have seen the visible tissue abnormality or been able to send it off for a biopsy.

Without those earlier steps, that underlying issue would have remained completely hidden and untreated.

Nothing in this process has been wasted. What felt like a roundabout, indirect path was actually God ordering my steps to reveal what needed to be brought to light. Just as He held the weather in Elijah’s day, He is holding the precise timeline of my health today.

Psalm 37:23 "The steps of a good man are ordered by the LORD: and he delighteth in his way."

Milestone Days and Answers to Prayer

Today marks the 17th anniversary of my motorcycle accident—the day my life changed in an instant, but also the day God began showing me undeniable miracles.

On this exact milestone day, I received a callback from my ENT with the official biopsy results: it is positive for Eosinophilic Esophagitis (EoE).

While receiving a chronic diagnosis can feel overwhelming on the surface, I genuinely see it as an answer to prayer. If we hadn't gone through every step of this exact process, we would still be in the dark, wondering why my progress felt stalled.

Now, we have clarity. I have a clear follow-up plan with my ENT and a referral to a gastroenterologist to begin targeted treatment to calm the tissue.

Seventeen years ago today, God preserved my life on the pavement. Today, on this exact anniversary, He gave me clarity for my health moving forward. He is still in the details. His timing is still perfect. And He is still answering the prayers stored in those golden vials.

Psalm 28:6–7 "Blessed be the LORD, because he hath heard the voice of my supplications. The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him."

 Be encouraged. 🧡

 

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. 🧡