God's Guidance

Life after my 2009 motorcycle accident has been a journey filled with challenges, triumphs, and revelations of God's faithfulness. While I’ve shared many obstacles I’ve overcome, there are always new insights I discover—small details about my recovery that even I sometimes overlook. Today, I want to share some unique things—a silver lining, a struggle, and God’s answer—that have become an unexpected part of my story.

January 2025

Automatic Reflexes: A New Reality

Since my accident, I’ve learned that our brainstem controls many automatic functions, things we rarely think about, like breathing, swallowing, digestion, or a beating heart. But in my case, I noticed something unusual: three things I haven’t experienced since July 2009—yawning, hiccupping, or sneezing. These three things are reflexive, automatic responses controlled by, you guessed it, the brainstem.

At first, it might sound strange, but let me explain. No matter how tired I am or how many people around me are yawning, I don’t yawn. I’ve sniffed black pepper, expecting the telltale tickle of a sneeze, but nothing happens. And hiccups, which we all know can be both annoying and unpredictable, have completely disappeared from my life.

"For we are fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well." (Psalm 139:14)

Finding the Silver Lining

What initially seemed odd has become one of those "happy accidents" that I can’t help but chuckle about. While these three bodily functions serve important purposes, their absence has also been a strange kind of blessing. I never have to worry about the discomfort of hiccups interrupting a conversation, the suddenness of a sneeze catching me off guard, or the social awkwardness of yawning during an important moment.

"And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose." (Romans 8:28)

Navigating Emotional Healing

When I returned home to North Carolina in February 2010, I brought more than just physical baggage with me. My mom had to manage a notebook-sized list of medications that I was taking daily, each addressing something different—from regulating my blood pressure to managing emotional trauma. That huge task was even bigger in that she had to crush the medication first before administering it via my feeding tube. Among those medications was Zoloft, an antidepressant prescribed to help me cope with the severe trauma and emotional distress I had experienced.

"In the multitude of my thoughts within me thy comforts delight my soul." (Psalm 94:19)

God's Timing in Weaning Off Medication

Before leaving Georgia, my mom spoke with my doctors about when she might begin weaning me off Zoloft. One doctor’s response stuck with her: “You know your daughter better than anyone. As a mother, you’ll know the right time to begin.”

In the months after returning home, I remember jokingly saying to my mom, “I don’t know how to feel.” To me, it was a passing comment, but to her, it was a sign. She noticed that while on the medication, I seemed to lack my usual emotional responses—nothing upset me, but nothing deeply moved me either. It wasn’t me.

Unknown to me at the time, my mom began the process of weaning me off Zoloft. Shortly thereafter, I no longer needed the medication. I began to feel again—the good and the bad—and as difficult as it was to process the emotions of grief and loss, I am so thankful for her wisdom and God’s timing in helping me walk through it. Just as God’s timing guided me through emotional healing, He also led me in making decisions about physical therapies.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven." (Ecclesiastes 3:1)

May 2010

Listening for Divine Direction

Life has been a series of decisions, challenges, and learning to trust in God’s plan. Along the way, I’ve encountered many opportunities for therapy and recovery, each promising a new way forward. One of these was equine therapy, a method involving horseback riding to help retrain the body’s movements, mimic a natural gait, and develop balance, where the rhythmic movement of a horse could teach my body how to shift weight and move correctly. While it seemed promising at first, God had a different path in store for me, and this story is a testimony to His guidance.

At 5'2" and still confined to a wheelchair, I thought this therapy might be an answer to regaining mobility. My mom and stepdad took me to a local barn, where I met Ben, the horse assigned to me.

Standing next to Ben, I felt overwhelmed. He seemed massive compared to my small, frail frame, which lacked muscle control and stability. While I wanted to believe this therapy could help me, I also felt uncertain. Unbeknownst to me, my parents were quietly hoping I would choose not to pursue it just yet, fearing it might not be the right time.

I didn’t want to make this decision lightly, so I prayed about it, asking God for clarity. I sought His guidance in the only way I knew how—through prayer and patience.

One Sunday, as I listened to a sermon, the minister quoted a verse that pierced my spirit. It was from Psalms: "Some trust in chariots, and some in horses: but we will remember the name of the Lord our God." (Psalm 20:7) I didn’t even know the Bible contained that verse.

The sermon wasn’t specifically about my situation, but to me, it felt like a direct answer from God. It reminded me that while therapies and treatments can be helpful, my ultimate trust and healing would come from Him. That was all the confirmation I needed. I decided to forgo equine therapy at that time and focus on other avenues for recovery, trusting in God’s timing and plan.

This experience was a reminder of how God speaks to us, often in unexpected ways. As I reflect on the moment I heard that verse in Psalms, it reminds me of something I often share with my students: The Bible contains every answer we will ever need for any question we have. We just need to sincerely search for it, ask God for guidance, and trust that He will reveal it to us. Scripture assures us that there’s “nothing new under the sun” (Ecclesiastes 1:9), and that promise brings me comfort in every decision I face.

Hearing God in a Whisper

Speaking of unexpected ways, it parallels the story of Elijah in 1 Kings 19. Elijah, seeking to hear from the Lord, experienced dramatic and powerful events—a fire, an earthquake, and a mighty windstorm. Yet, God was not in any of those. Instead, Elijah heard Him in a still, small voice—a whisper.

This story carries such a profound truth: though God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and omniscient, He often chooses to speak gently. To hear a whisper, we must be close to the one speaking it. That’s why James 4:8 is so powerful: “Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you.”

This moment in my journey reminded me of the importance of staying close to God, listening for His voice, and trusting Him to guide me, even in the quietest ways.

Gratitude for the Silver Linings

The challenges I’ve faced have been real, but so have the blessings that come alongside them. Even in the hard moments—like weaning off medication or processing grief—there’s always something to learn, something to give thanks for—reminding me that there’s always a silver lining.

Through this journey, I’ve learned to seek God in every decision, big or small. It’s not always easy, but His guidance has never failed me. I share this story as an encouragement to anyone facing uncertainty—lean into Him, and trust that He will show you the way, even when the path seems unclear.

"In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

I hope to inspire others to find the unexpected blessings in their own struggles. Sometimes, the silver linings in our lives are small, subtle things we may not notice at first. But with God’s guidance, even these little moments can shine brightly, filling our hearts with gratitude and peace.

Share what "blessings in disguise" you notice.

Be encouraged. 🧡

                                                    Believe ♫There Will Be Joy in the Morning

Transforming through Trials

In every recovery journey, there are moments that stand out—not because of their grandiosity but because of their quiet significance. At first glance, they may seem like just another step in the process, but in hindsight, they reveal themselves as pivotal pieces of a much larger picture. One such moment for me was undergoing serial casting. What started as an uncomfortable, repetitive medical process turned out to be a foundational step in my recovery.

preparing the cast

What Is Serial Casting?

Before my motorcycle accident in 2009, I had never even heard of serial casting. When the doctors suggested it as a way to address the lack of flexibility in my right ankle, I didn’t fully understand what the process entailed or why it mattered. I had never experienced a broken bone or worn a cast before, so this was all new territory. I couldn’t understand how this would help. I didn’t think my ankle’s flexion was a problem, and I couldn’t see the purpose of what they wanted to do. But I would soon learn how transformative it would be, not just for my physical mobility but also for my perspective on perseverance and patience.

Serial casting is a method used to improve range of motion and alignment. In my case, it involved forming a cast from my foot up to my shin while positioning my ankle in a specific degree of flexion. I wore each cast for several days before the doctors would cut it off, reposition my ankle to stretch it further, and apply a new cast. This process repeated three or four times, each adjustment aimed at incrementally improving the movement and alignment of my ankle.

Enduring the Process with Patience

It wasn’t easy—mentally or physically. Wearing the cast was uncomfortable, and each adjustment pushed my limits. But the purpose was clear: to prepare my ankle for the proper alignment and flexibility it would need for the milestones ahead—standing, walking, and eventually gaining greater independence.

fitting the cast

"But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." (James 1:4)

When it came time to remove the cast, I remember feeling a little nervous about the saw they used. But they reassured me, explaining how the tool wouldn’t cut my skin and even demonstrated its safety. That put my mind at ease. Today, my ankle gives me zero trouble.

"In every thing give thanks: for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you." (1 Thessalonians 5:18)

At the time, I didn’t realize just how important those weeks of casting were. It felt tedious, even frustrating, to endure. But now, looking back, I see how those small, steady adjustments set the foundation for so much more. They taught me a lesson I carry to this day: progress doesn’t always come in leaps and bounds. Sometimes, it’s the quiet, incremental changes—guided by persistence and faith—that make the biggest difference. While serial casting set the stage for my physical mobility, regaining motor skills in my arm and hand was another mountain I had to climb.

Relearning the Basics

When you’re forced to relearn something you once did effortlessly, it has a way of reshaping your perspective on strength, patience, and perseverance. During my recovery, one of the most challenging aspects was the loss of movement in my right arm and hand. At that time, it didn’t move at all—not even a little—unless I physically lifted it with my left hand.

Starting Over

This left me relying entirely on my left hand, which had never been my dominant side. Suddenly, I was starting from scratch, learning how to navigate a world where even the simplest of tasks—buttoning a button, grasping an object, or zipping up a jacket—felt monumental. My therapists didn’t just encourage me to adapt; they made it their mission to ensure I could use my one functioning arm to its fullest potential.

"He giveth power to the faint; and to them that have no might he increaseth strength." (Isaiah 40:29)

For hours each day, five days a week, I practiced these seemingly small tasks—things most people do without a second thought. The process was frustrating, exhausting, and, if I’m honest, deeply disheartening at times. The thought that my right arm might never move again loomed heavily over me.

exercising the right arm

What kept me going was the hope that progress was possible. Even on the hardest days, I focused on each small accomplishment, no matter how insignificant it seemed. If I could button one button today, maybe I could button two tomorrow.

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

I see now that those hours of practice weren’t just about relearning motor skills; they were about relearning resilience. They taught me to find joy in small victories and to trust that even the smallest steps forward matter. At the time, I couldn’t imagine the progress I’d make, but those moments of persistence laid the groundwork for everything that followed.

But therapy for my right arm didn’t stop at those small, repetitive exercises. My therapist would also move my right arm manually, guiding it through different motions and activities like brushing my hair. She moved it up, down, around, and through various positions. I assumed this was to help establish muscle memory or at least to exercise the arm. Of course, I always hoped that her efforts might trigger some kind of reaction in my arm. I didn’t fully understand the purpose at the time, but I trusted her expertise. I realize now how important those sessions were in maintaining my arm’s range of motion and keeping hope alive for eventual use.

daily task practice with the left arm

Reflecting on the Journey

I wanted to share these stories not just as a glimpse into my recovery but as a reminder of what we can endure and overcome with God’s help. These experiences have taught me that progress is not usually immediate, as much as we’d like it to be. We don’t start running a 5K without first learning to stand, take small steps, and walk steadily. The big milestones come later, and they only come when we commit to the smaller, often tedious steps along the way.

Success is a process, and the path to change or new perspectives is rarely easy. It’s slow. It can feel insignificant at times. You might even wonder if you’ll ever achieve the goal you’ve set before you. But the key is this: don’t quit. If you never try, you’ll never know what you’re capable of.

Looking back, I am incredibly thankful for the foresight and care my therapists and doctors had in addressing my needs, even before I fully understood their importance. I see how those moments that felt small or frustrating were actually crucial steps in God’s plan for my recovery. They taught me to trust the process, embrace perseverance, and celebrate the victories—no matter how small.

And as for my right arm—while it once seemed immovable, it is now fully functional. I use it every day, including when I write. Though it remains weaker than my left arm, I am actively working on building its strength through regular gym sessions. I am incredibly grateful to have two useful hands, a blessing I don’t take for granted.

Biblical Lessons from Recovery

These experiences remind me of some important Biblical truths. The parable of the talents shows us the significance of using what we are given. Whether it’s five talents, two, or even one, we are responsible for cultivating and growing what has been entrusted to us. The servant who hid his one talent lost even that. Using our talents wisely isn’t just a suggestion—it’s a command from God.

I’m also reminded of the verse that says, “To whom much is given, much is required.” (Luke 12:48) With the blessings and gifts we are given comes responsibility. And even when what we have feels small or insignificant, we know that God can make much out of little, just like the two fish and five loaves. (John 6:1-14)

The song, Little Is Much If God Is in It, echoes this truth beautifully. We see it in the mustard seed of faith, which is so tiny—like the period at the end of a sentence—but powerful enough to move mountains. We see it in stories like Gideon’s army of 300 men, who triumphed because of God’s help. God doesn’t require large numbers or grand gestures; He requires our commitment and faithfulness.

Whatever you’re facing today, I hope this encourages you to keep going. Trust the process, honor what you’ve been given, and keep moving forward—one step, one effort, one talent at a time.

Be encouraged. 🧡

Overcoming Comparison

Over the years, one of the greatest struggles I’ve faced has been the temptation to compare my current self with who I was before 2009. Before my accident, I was independent, capable, and self-motivated. I didn’t think twice about tackling physical tasks like mowing the lawn, painting a room, moving furniture, or washing my car. I took pride in my abilities and rarely questioned whether I could handle something.

That all changed after my accident. Starting from scratch—learning to breathe, talk, and walk again—humbled me in ways I never imagined.  Tasks I once took for granted became monumental as I couldn’t feed, dress, or brush my teeth without help. Total reliance on others was both humbling and frustrating.

Celebrating Small Victories

Yet, as I look back on my journey, I see how God has been at work. Gradually, I’ve regained so much, like the unexpected joy of tying my shoes or writing in cursive again. Though it’s laborious, as hand muscles tire quickly, it’s a reminder of how far I’ve come (though, typing is much preferred).

Recently, while attending the gym, I experienced another moment of breakthrough. At first, I struggled with the rear deltoid machine. In case you’re unfamiliar, this is a machine where you hold your arms in an “L” shape, parallel to your shoulders, and bring them together in front of you, mimicking a butterfly motion. At first, my right arm wouldn’t cooperate, but with persistence and regular use of the machine, I eventually regained full range of motion. Achieving that full range of motion felt so rewarding—it was a huge accomplishment that reminded me of the value of perseverance and God’s grace in my journey.

used, 2025 and new, 2009

Learning to Ask for Help

Despite the progress, there’s still a tension. Knowing what I could do before the accident has, at times, cast a shadow over what I can do now. Many times, I push myself to exhaustion or frustration before asking for help, reluctant to admit I can’t do it alone. But over time, I’ve come to see that needing help is not a weakness. It’s an opportunity for God to remind me of His strength in my life and the community He has placed around me.

The Bible speaks to this struggle of comparison: "But let every man prove his own work, and then shall he have rejoicing in himself alone, and not in another. For every man shall bear his own burden." (Galatians 6:4-5)

This reminds me to focus on my own journey and progress without comparing it to my past or anyone else’s journey. God’s purpose for my life is unique, and it’s not meant to mirror anyone else’s or even who I was before.

"For we dare not make ourselves of the number, or compare ourselves with some that commend themselves: but they measuring themselves by themselves, and comparing themselves among themselves, are not wise." (2 Corinthians 10:12)

"I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well." (Psalm 139:14)

This verse assures me that even in my current state, I am a masterpiece of God’s design. He created me with a purpose, and my worth isn’t determined by what I can or cannot do but by who He says I am.

Holding the tiny bee figurine.

God's Grace in Weakness

Another verse that has encouraged me is:

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

In moments when I feel frustrated by my limitations, I am reminded that God’s strength shines through my weakness. My reliance on Him and His grace has been a cornerstone of my recovery.

Milestone: Applying My Scopolamine Patch

One of the advancements I want to share in my recovery journey is my progress with applying my Scopolamine patch, the one that helps control my saliva production.

In the past, I had to rely on someone else to apply the patch for me. My lack of coordination made it difficult to peel the sticker off and place it in the correct spot. But over time, I’ve worked on my fine motor skills and gained enough dexterity to handle this task independently.

Now, every three days, I can remove the sticker from the paper and place it behind my left or right ear, alternating sides with each application.

This small yet significant accomplishment represents a step forward in my independence. It’s a task that may seem simple, but being able to complete it myself is a big deal for me. It’s a reminder of how even the smallest victories are worth celebrating.

Avoiding the Trap of Comparison

If you find yourself caught in the trap of comparison—whether it’s with others or with your past self—take a moment to reflect on how far you’ve come. Celebrate the small victories, and don’t be afraid to ask for help. Progress isn’t about perfection; it’s about perseverance.

For me, I’ll keep trusting God with my journey. He’s taught me to see the beauty in progress, no matter how slow, and to embrace the person He’s creating me to be.

Listening to My Body

Another lesson I’ve learned throughout my recovery is the importance of listening—not just to others, but also to my own body. Over the years, I’ve had therapists and doctors recommend certain exercises, precautions, or approaches. While their expertise has been invaluable, I’ve realized that they don’t know my body, my thoughts, or my limits the way I do.

If I had always followed every piece of advice to the letter, I might not have advanced as far as I have today. That’s not to say I dismiss professional guidance—far from it. But I’ve learned that recovery requires a fine balance between caution and boldness. For me, it’s about respecting my limits while also being willing to push them. After all, how will you know what’s possible unless you try?

Falling Forward

Sometimes, this determination means going against what others might think I’m ready for. “She can’t do that! It’s risky.” Take falling, for instance. When filling out intake paperwork for a doctor’s appointment, they often ask, “Have you fallen in the last 12 months?” My honest answer? I’ve lost count. And while some might see frequent falls as a sign of recklessness, I view them differently. For me, falling shows I’m pushing my limits. Each stumble teaches me where my limits are, and persistence helps me surpass them.

"Rejoice not against me, O mine enemy: when I fall, I shall arise; when I sit in darkness, the Lord shall be a light unto me." (Micah 7:8)

That’s not to say this approach is for everyone, nor does it mean I throw caution to the wind. There are times when erring on the side of safety is wise. But for me, pushing the envelope has been key to my growth. I take what doctors and therapists suggest, weigh it against what I know about my own body, and move forward with careful determination.

Trusting in God's Strength

This mindset is also rooted in faith.

"I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me." (Philippians 4:13)

It’s through His strength that I’ve found the courage to test my limits and the grace to keep going, even when the road is hard.

Tangible Reminders of Faith and Perseverance

While I don’t typically consider myself a sentimental person, I do hold onto a few meaningful items from my recovery journey that remind me of God’s faithfulness and my perseverance. One of these is a stuffed sheep that I received during my hospital stay in 2009. Another is a prayer quilt, lovingly made and gifted to me by the ladies in my church. These items serve as tangible reminders of the love, support, and prayers that surrounded me during some of my hardest days.

I also treasure a small bee figurine, given to me as a symbol of determination and purpose. Much like the way early scientists misunderstood the flight of the bee, thinking its small wings couldn't possibly support its larger body, we sometimes underestimate our ability to fulfill God's purpose for us. But just as the bee flies—not by defying physics, but by using an intricate design perfectly suited for its needs—we, too, are equipped by God with everything we need to rise above challenges and fulfill His plan. The bee's flight is a beautiful reminder that what may seem impossible to human understanding is entirely possible with divine intention.

Setting New Goals

This mindset has helped me overcome many obstacles in my physical journey, and it continues to guide me as I look toward the future. One of my goals, for example, is to someday transition from wearing glasses to contacts. Currently, my prism (to correct double vision) is too high to make that possible, but perhaps, with time, it will become achievable. Like the bee, I’ll keep moving forward with faith, determination, and the belief that I can accomplish what God has set before me.

Tell me, what are you determined to achieve?

 Be encouraged. 🧡

Scars: God's memorials

Scars are often referred to as beauty marks, a term that I’ve always found a bit humorous. Let’s be honest—a scar isn’t usually something we’d describe as visually appealing. Yet, when we reflect on the stories behind our scars, their significance becomes clear. Each scar tells a story of survival, resilience, and healing.

To look at me physically, you might not immediately see many scars. I have a couple of small ones—one on each knee, a faint mark near my collarbone, and another tiny scar on my right pinky finger.

One of the most prominent scars I carry is a nine-and-a-half-inch incision on my back. It’s from surgery to stabilize my vertebrae after my accident. This scar represents a pivotal part of my recovery—a time when I had to trust the skill of surgeons and, even more importantly, the divine guidance of God to get me through. It’s a physical reminder of what I’ve endured and how far I’ve come.

May 2010, Angel Oak, Charleston, SC

When I think about this scar, I’m reminded of the truth in God’s Word: “He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

While scars may not fade entirely, they testify to the healing that has taken place. They serve as marks of survival, endurance, and the grace that carried us through the pain.

But beyond these visible marks, my body holds other subtle signs of what I’ve endured. The sound of my voice, altered by my journey, could be called a scar. To me, the change in my voice is most obvious—perhaps due to months of non-use, the trauma itself, or both.

The last joint on the ring finger of my right hand doesn’t fully straighten anymore, another small physical remnant of the accident.

And yet, even with these marks, someone looking at me wouldn’t see the full story. They tell the story of battles fought, pain endured, lessons learned, and the grace that has carried me through. My physical scars may be few, but my life bears many other kinds of scars - emotional, mental, and spiritual.

“But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried me, I shall come forth as gold.” (Job 23:10)

Scars Beneath the Surface

Some scars aren’t visible, yet they run deep. Emotional and mental scars are like peeling an onion: there are layers upon layers. Each one tells a story of struggle, survival, and eventually, growth.

Fear is often one of the deepest layers. Fear is very real, and most people experience it—fear of the unknown, fear of the future, fear of failure. But the Bible reminds us over and over again to fear not. Fear is of the devil. God does not give us the spirit of fear, but of power, love, and a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:7). Fear is torment, but perfect love casts out fear (1 John 4:18).

I don’t want to fear what’s ahead or what I might not know, because fear is not of God. When fear creeps in, I’m reminded to run to Him, knowing He is my refuge and strength.

Healing Does Not Mean Forgetting

For a long time, I worried that striving to heal and move forward might mean forgetting what I had been through and my pre-wreck life. I feared that regaining what I had lost could erase the lessons those struggles had taught me.

But healing is not forgetting. It’s about honoring the past while embracing the future. Moving forward doesn’t diminish the scars—it transforms them into testimonies of God’s faithfulness.

“Remember ye not the former things, neither consider the things of old. Behold, I will do a new thing; now it shall spring forth; shall ye not know it?” (Isaiah 43:18-19)

Healing allows us to carry the lessons of the scars with us, not leave them behind. Through every scar, God has taught me that the lessons learned in the valleys are just as valuable as the triumphs on the mountaintops.

Lessons in the Valleys

It’s easy to long for mountaintop moments, but life is often shaped in the valleys. I’ve come to see that God doesn’t allow battles to break us—He allows them to make us. Scars teach us lessons that no one can take away. They remind us of battles fought and lessons learned, and those experiences shape us.

Even before my accident, I clung to the saying, “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In the years since, I’ve seen how true that is. My scars—visible and invisible—remind me daily of God’s faithfulness.

I’ve often joked with friends that God must think I’m Wonder Woman because of the challenges He’s allowed in my life. Yet the Bible promises that “God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape.” (1 Corinthians 10:13)

If life were always on the mountaintop, how could we truly appreciate victory if we’d never felt defeated? The sweetness of triumph is found in the valleys we’ve endured. Through those dark moments, God strengthens us, refines us, and prepares us for something greater.

“My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience.” (James 1:2-3)

2017

God’s Faithfulness in Every Scar

Scars, whether they’re physical, emotional, or spiritual, are part of our story. They’re evidence of battles fought and won, reminders that we’ve survived. Each scar, whether physical or emotional, is a testament to His grace and strength. They remind me that I am never alone and that God’s plan is always for my good.

If you carry scars—visible or unseen—remember that they are not the end of your story. They are a part of the beautiful testimony God is writing in your life.

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

Scars as Testimonies

The funny thing about scars is that they stick with you. In my experience, they may fade over time, but they never go away completely. And perhaps that’s the point. Scars can serve as powerful tools to share our testimony with others, offering evidence of God’s faithfulness and provision.

This reminds me of the account in the Old Testament when the Israelites crossed over the Jordan River. Joshua instructed them to take 12 stones and set them up as a memorial. The stones weren’t just for decoration—they were to spark conversations. When future generations asked, “What mean ye by these stones?” the Israelites would have an opportunity to say, “Let me tell you about the time God brought us through the Jordan River.”

“That this may be a sign among you, that when your children ask their fathers in time to come, saying, What mean ye by these stones? Then ye shall answer them, That the waters of Jordan were cut off before the ark of the covenant of the Lord... and these stones shall be for a memorial unto the children of Israel for ever.” (Joshua 4:6-7)

In the same way, our scars are like those memorial stones. They are not meant to be hidden away or kept secret. They are reminders of the battles we’ve faced, the victories we’ve won, and the faithfulness of God through it all. We’ve survived so that we can proclaim loudly to others: “Let me tell you what I’ve endured and how God brought me through.”

“And they overcame him by the blood of the Lamb, and by the word of their testimony; and they loved not their lives unto the death.” (Revelation 12:11)

Our scars testify not just to our resilience but to the glory and power of the One who made us overcomers. Let’s use them as opportunities to share His goodness and give Him the praise He so rightly deserves.

So, whether physical or emotional, scars are proof that we’ve endured challenges and emerged stronger on the other side. They remind us of God’s faithfulness in carrying us through trials and transforming our pain into purpose. In that sense, scars truly are beauty marks—visible reminders of the beauty of God’s redemptive work in our lives.

Do you have scars?

Be encouraged. 🧡

                        Give this perfect pairing a listen 🎵 Scars

Sustained by God: my feeding tube life

Looking back at the path we've walked, there’s much to reflect on, learn from, and even find peace in, despite challenges. My journey with a feeding tube began in July 2009, following my accident, and it has been a constant in my life since then. Though I cannot swallow and only God knows when I will, God has been faithful every step of the way. In this post, I want to share how my relationship with the feeding tube has evolved over time—from the initial challenges and adjustments to the lessons I’ve learned about resilience, patience, and faith.

"O give thanks unto the LORD; for he is good: for his mercy endureth for ever." (Psalm 107:1)

The Beginning: My Introduction to the Feeding Tube

After my accident, the doctors concluded that I would not be able to swallow. The decision to place a feeding tube was necessary for my survival, though it introduced a completely new reality for me (and my family) to navigate.

The placement of the feeding tube involved creating a direct pathway into my stomach, secured with a small plastic flange (a disk-like piece for support) inside my body. Attached to this was a 12-inch tube that hung externally, which I learned to keep tucked into my bra strap to prevent it from getting in the way. This feeding tube became my lifeline, literally!

At the time, I was also living with a trach, I was nonverbal as a result. I relied on an alphabet board, or reading lips to communicate my needs. It was a challenging adjustment, as I had to figure out not only how the feeding tube worked but also what my body could tolerate.

"But my God shall supply all your need according to his riches in glory by Christ Jesus." (Philippians 4:19)

Early Challenges and Adjustments

The only nutrition I received in the hospital was a prescription tube-feeding formula called JEVITY. It was administered in small amounts—just 8 ounces about three times a day—providing few overall calories. My body had to slowly adjust to this new way of receiving nourishment.

However, from the beginning, I noticed my stomach did not react well to JEVITY. Each feeding left me feeling nauseous and uncomfortable. I tried to communicate this to the nurses and doctors, but it often felt like my concerns were not being heard.

This period required tremendous patience. Though I was grateful to receive nourishment, I longed for relief from the discomfort. It wasn’t until I returned to (February 2010) North Carolina and met with my outpatient speech therapist that things began to change. She recommended an alternative formula called TWO-CAL, and for the first time, I felt hope that my body would finally find peace with a new source of nutrition.

"But let patience have her perfect work, that ye may be perfect and entire, wanting nothing." (James 1:4)

A Change for the Better: The Mickey Button

In addition to finding a new formula, I also sought to replace my 12-inch dangling tube with something more adaptable. This led me to the local hospital, where I learned the process for removing my feeding tube. The nurse explained that the only way to remove it was to wrap the tube firmly around her hand and pull the tube out of my stomach. With this knowledge, I took a deep breath, prayed for courage, and told them to proceed.

Once the old tube was removed, they replaced it with a Mickey button. Unlike the original setup, the Mickey button sits flush against the skin (low profile) and allows me to attach and detach the feeding tube for my syringe. This change was a game-changer, offering more comfort and convenience in my daily life. I have been using the Mickey button ever since.

diagram of my initial tube with the flange & permanent extension

Learning to Meet My Body’s Needs

As I continued with therapy and worked to get stronger, I began to burn more calories and feel hungry more often. However, my stomach could not handle large amounts of liquid at once. To compensate, I added snacks to my routine, increasing my feedings to five times a day. My daily schedule included breakfast, lunch, dinner, a mid-morning snack, and an afternoon snack.

For these snacks, I relied on high-protein supplements like Ensure, which I could easily find at grocery or drug stores. Adjusting to my body’s calorie needs became an ongoing process, and I had to remain flexible and open to trying new products that could boost my nutrition intake.

Over time, however, my body adapted. I was eventually able to reduce my feedings back to four times a day: breakfast, lunch around noon, a mid-afternoon snack at 3 p.m., and supper around 6 p.m. While this routine worked for several years, I continued to explore different combinations of food and supplements to meet my needs.

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

diagram of Mickey (low profile) button

A Shift to Real Food

In recent years, I transitioned from synthetic, man-made formula meals to real food blends—a change I’ve shared in a previous blog post. (Adventure Awaits: the art of travel planning) This shift has been transformative for me. With these blends, I’ve been able to return to eating just three meals a day: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

At each meal, I consume approximately 32 ounces of liquid—the maximum amount my stomach can handle at one time. While this is a significant volume, my body has adjusted to it, and I now feel satisfied with three meals daily. Lunch tends to be my largest meal calorie-wise, as I find I need more energy during the middle of the day.

That said, there is a practical side to consuming so much liquid at each meal. Frequent trips to the bathroom have become a natural part of my routine! However, this is a small price to pay for the benefits I’ve gained from the real food blends.

"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." (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Addressing Thirst

Over the years, I’ve often been asked if I feel thirsty, particularly during the summer months. Interestingly, despite being unable to drink liquids orally, I do feel sensations of thirst. However, I’ve only experienced that extreme, dry, parched feeling about three times in the past 15 years.

When I feel thirsty, I take it as a sign that my body needs more water to avoid dehydration. I’ll increase my liquid intake accordingly. I’ve also tried using ice chips or swishing water in my mouth and spitting it out, ensuring I avoid accidental swallowing, which could lead to complications. If some water were to enter my lungs, it wouldn’t be too alarming since our bodies are mostly made of water.

When the Feeding Tube Comes Out, Unintentionally 

Over the past 15 years, I’ve had three additional incidents involving my feeding tube that I wanted to share. These moments are rare but memorable, as they remind me of the importance of preparedness and adaptability.

Another challenge I’ve encountered is when the feeding tube unexpectedly comes out. The first time this happened, I was in Alabama visiting my aunt and uncle, and it came out while I was in the shower. I wasn’t hysterical, but I was pretty close—it had never happened before, and I didn’t know what to expect.

Thankfully, I always carry a new Mickey kit when traveling to prepare for emergencies. However, I knew I needed professional help to replace it. At the local ER, the doctor attempted to place a new Mickey button, but I don’t think he was familiar with the process. He used a metal rod resembling a wire coat hanger, and I believe it punctured the surrounding area.

Within a day or two, the Mickey button came out again. Fortunately, I was on my way home by then and could seek proper care to resolve the issue. This experience taught me the importance of being prepared and also highlighted the fact that not all hospitals keep the necessary equipment on hand. I’ve even found that my local hospital has labeled supplies specifically for me, which brings a bit of humor to an otherwise challenging situation.

One night, I woke up to find that my feeding tube had come out and was lying in the bed. I didn’t know how long it had been out, but I was immediately aware that the hole in my stomach could close quickly, much like the hole from my tracheotomy that healed in just one day. We rushed to the hospital, where I spent the majority of the day waiting for a resolution. By this point, I hadn’t eaten since the previous evening’s supper and was getting pretty hungry. Finally, they informed me that reinserting the tube would require an x-ray and general anesthesia, which meant staying for additional hours to recover after the procedure. Determined to avoid the extended wait, I chose to stay awake and have the procedure done with only lidocaine as a local anesthetic. While it was uncomfortable and I felt the pressure as they stretched my skin to reinsert the button, I was able to leave immediately afterward and finally eat lunch. It was a challenging day, but I was glad to have avoided a longer hospital stay.

The third incident happened during a routine tube change. I typically replace my feeding tube at least annually (more often as needed) with the help of my cousin, who has enough medical knowledge to assist me. Normally, the process takes no more than five minutes and is relatively uneventful. However, during one particular attempt, the hole wouldn’t allow the new button to go in fully, and we noticed a pool of blood. Not wanting to take any chances, we headed to the radiology department where they successfully reinserted the tube using x-ray guidance. Despite the initial hiccup, the situation was resolved quickly and without further complications.

These are the only three notable incidents I’ve experienced over the years, and thankfully, routine tube changes have remained straightforward otherwise. Each experience has reinforced the importance of staying calm, being prepared, and having trusted help when needed.

"Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer." (Romans 12:12)

What Remains Unchanged

Even after all these years, swallowing remains elusive. My upper esophageal sphincter refuses to relax, keeping me from safely taking food or drink by mouth. Yet, through it all, I’ve adapted and integrated the feeding tube seamlessly into my daily life. It’s no longer just a necessity—it’s a part of me, one that God has used to sustain me for over 15 years.

"For we walk by faith, not by sight." (2 Corinthians 5:7)

Lessons Learned Along the Way

Looking back, I see how God has used this journey to teach me patience, resilience, and faith. Each moment I’ve spent managing the feeding tube has been an opportunity to lean on Him and trust in His plan. As the Bible reminds us:

"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." (Isaiah 40:31)

Even during the toughest times—when my body rejected the formula, or when I felt unheard—I learned that persistence and trust in God could lead to breakthroughs. Eventually, I found solutions that worked, and those moments reinforced my faith in His provision.

Closing Thoughts

This journey with my feeding tube has been transformative, shaping me not only physically but also spiritually and emotionally. I hope that by sharing this part of my story, you can see that even in life’s challenges, God’s faithfulness shines through. Whether your own trials are physical, emotional, or spiritual, I encourage you to seek Him and trust in His plan.

"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." (Psalm 28:7)

Stay tuned as I share more reflections and lessons from my journey.

Does a particular challenge fill your mind? Please share.

Be encouraged. 🧡