Why This Matters So Much to Me
After my post last Saturday, (read it here: He Supplies What We Need) about my excitement for
meeting a speech pathologist, I wanted to take a step back and explain why
I’m so excited about the things I’ve heard and seen.
It’s not because this is new to me.
It’s not because I’m unfamiliar with speech therapy.
In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
I’ve logged many, many hours with speech therapists over
the years. This is something I’ve lived, worked through, and invested in
deeply.
So when I say I’m excited now—it comes from a place of
understanding what this journey has already required.
And now… a little more of the background.
Speech Therapy: More Than Just Talking
When people hear “speech therapy,” they often think
it only involves learning how to talk clearly.
But it’s so much more than that.
A speech pathologist doesn’t just deal with speech—they work
with the tongue, swallowing, the neck, the throat… all of it is connected.
Over time, we worked on things most people never even think
about.
The Work Behind the Scenes
There were exercises designed just to strengthen and stretch
my tongue.
One that always stands out to me is when they would put peanut
butter just below my nose, and I had to try to reach it with my tongue. It
sounds simple—but it was intentional. It was building strength, control, and
range of motion, attempting to stretch that part.
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| Tongue exercises at home, 2010 |
There were also different types of stimulation therapies.
I had electric stimulation electrodes placed on my
neck in various locations to help activate those muscles. At one point, I was
even encouraged to get a machine to use at home so I could continue that work
outside of therapy sessions.
And then there were swallow studies.
These involved watching an X-ray in real time as I attempted
to swallow, so they could see exactly what was happening internally—what was
working, what wasn’t, and where things were breaking down.
I’ve also had throat, jaw, and even ear-area massages
to try to help loosen and support the muscles involved.
All of this was part of the process.
All of this was effort.
Additional Medical Interventions
In addition to therapy and the various exercises and
studies, I also underwent other medical procedures as part of trying to improve
swallowing function.
This included Botox injections into the sphincter
muscle (at the top of my esophagus), as well as other outpatient procedures,
like throat stretching (using [various diameters] gauges on the
esophagus itself), intended to reduce tension and improve function in that
area.
Despite these efforts, they were ultimately unsuccessful
in producing lasting improvement.
What I Was Told
After all of that time in speech therapy, there came a point
where something significant was said to me.
I was told there was no medical reason that I shouldn’t
be able to eat at some point.
That mattered.
But alongside that, I was also told something else.
That I already knew everything they could teach me.
Because I had been in therapy so consistently, so
thoroughly, there wasn’t really anything new left to try. I had learned
the techniques. I understood the positioning.
For example, I was taught that when practicing swallowing, I
could turn my head or tuck my chin to help with posture and improve the chances
of success.
By the end of it all, they told me something that stuck with
me:
That I would likely know before anyone else when something
changed.
That there wasn’t more they could add to my routine that
would make anything occur any sooner. That was approximately 2014.
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| Encouragement shared with me, I wanted to pay it forward. |
Left to Continue on My Own
And so, in many ways, I was left to continue on my own.
Not because they didn’t care—but because we had reached
the point where everything that could be taught… had been.
The rest would be up to time, persistence, and something
more.
The Part That Was Hard to Say Out Loud
Of course, I had been discouraged.
But over time, I think I had also started to accept that
this might just be the way life was going to be—that maybe this was as good
as it would get, and I was going to be okay with that.
And accepting that didn’t mean I quit trying.
It didn’t mean I stopped caring.
It just meant… I didn’t know what else I could do to make
things better any faster.
The Questions I Couldn’t Answer
People will ask me often, with good intentions:
“Any changes?”
“Is the swallowing any better?”
“Have you seen progress?”
And so many times, my answer was the same: “No… nothing
new. It’s about the same.”
I would say it with a smile. I would try to stay upbeat. And
then I would move the conversation along.
But internally… it was harder than I let on.
The Weight I Carried Quietly
Because in those moments, I didn’t just feel stuck.
I felt like I was letting people down. A disappointment. A failure.
Like maybe I hadn’t tried hard enough.
Like maybe I was doing something wrong.
Like maybe—somehow—I didn’t have enough faith.
Romans 8:1 “There is therefore now no condemnation
to them which are in Christ Jesus…”
And that was a heavy place to sit in.
It made it difficult to even talk about, because I didn’t
want anyone to think that I wasn’t trying.
Because I was.
I wanted this. I worked for this.
I just didn’t know what else I could do to make it happen.
What I Knew About God
And at the same time, deep down, I held onto something else.
I believed that God sees.
That He knows.
That He remembers.
Scripture says in Psalm 139:1–2 “O Lord, thou hast
searched me, and known me. Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising…”
And I believed that He is not a halfway God.
Numbers 23:19 “God is not a man, that he should
lie… hath he said, and shall he not do it?”
He completes things.
He doesn’t leave something undone.
Those truths didn’t change—even when nothing else seemed to.
Living Between Faith and Guarded Expectations
But if I’m being honest, there was also a tension in me.
I was trying not to expect too much.
Not because I didn’t believe God could do
something—but because I didn’t want to set myself up for disappointment.
So I lived somewhere in between:
Holding onto what I believed about God…
While also trying to guard my heart from hoping too specifically.
Proverbs 3:5 “Trust in the Lord with all thine
heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding…”
Why This Moment Feels Different
So all of that is why I couldn’t help but get excited when
the pieces started to come together and led me to this moment with a new-to-me
speech pathologist.
I don’t really know how to fully explain it.
I don’t know why it feels different.
I just know that it does.
There’s this sense of hope—of something stirring again
inside me—that I can’t quite put into words.
And it doesn’t come from ignoring everything that came
before. It comes because of everything that came before.
Seeing Possibility Again
Recently, I saw before-and-after photos of tongues that had
gone through therapy and strengthening work.
And something about that stayed with me.
Because in my own mind, I often feel like mine is… not where
it should be. Weak in ways I can feel but not always describe. In need of help,
strengthening, and re-centering.
And I recently learned something I hadn’t fully understood
before—that even the resting position of the tongue matters, and mine hasn’t
been where it’s supposed to be.
That was eye-opening for me.
Not discouraging—but eye-opening.
I was reminded Mark 9:23 says “If thou
canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.”
When Something Inside You Responds
There are also new tools I’ve been introduced to, things I
had never used before.
And as I learn about them, something in me just responds.
I can’t fully explain it.
It’s not just information. It’s not just technique.
It feels like possibility.
Like maybe there are still layers to this I haven’t reached
yet.
Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
And after everything I’ve walked through, I’ve learned not
to dismiss that feeling too quickly.
Even if I can’t fully define it yet… I’m paying attention to
it.
Not a Delay, Not a Failure
I don’t know why it’s taken this long.
The Bible declares in Ecclesiastes 3:11 “He hath
made every thing beautiful in his time…” and in Habakkuk 2:3 “For
the vision is yet for an appointed time… though it tarry, wait for it…”
There are moments where part of me tries to turn inward and
say it must be my fault—that if things have taken this long, then I must
have done something wrong or not done enough.
But I’m learning to recognize that thought for what it is.
That voice is not truth.
It’s discouragement speaking, not reality.
A Different Way of Seeing the Wait
I’ve come to believe there’s a reason this has unfolded the
way it has, even if I don’t understand all of it.
Maybe there are lives that have been impacted along the
way—people who have been encouraged, strengthened, or even just reminded that
they’re not alone through things I’ve shared or endured.
Not because I am anything special.
But because God can use anything.
Even the long, slow, unseen parts of a story.
The Story That Comes to Mind
I’m often reminded of Joseph in the Old Testament.
He was sold into slavery by his own brothers, and yet he remained
faithful to God through every part of his journey.
And it took years—about thirteen of them—before he stepped
into the palace and saw the promise begin to unfold.
Genesis 50:20 “But as for you, ye thought evil
against me; but God meant it unto good…”
But what stands out to me most is that he didn’t quit in
the waiting.
He didn’t stop being faithful just because the timeline
didn’t make sense.
Standing in That Same Kind of Faith
And I am certainly not a quitter.
Even in the parts where I didn’t understand what was
happening, or why it wasn’t changing faster, I’ve kept going.
I’ve kept showing up.
I’ve kept trying.
Scripture reminds us in Galatians 6:9 “And let us
not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not.” and
in 1 Corinthians 15:58 “…be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding
in the work of the Lord…”
And I’ve kept believing that God is still working, even when
I couldn’t see it clearly.
Moving Forward With Intention
I know the saying—you grab the bull by the horns—and
that’s exactly how I feel I’m approaching this next step.
I’m stepping into this new speech therapy opportunity with
intention, with hope, and with a willingness to do my part fully.
A New Season to Participate In
It truly feels like a blessing to be able to participate in
this.
Not just to observe it, or hope for change, but to actively
be part of it again—to show up, to engage, and to do the work alongside it.
Whatever happens from here, I believe it’s going to be
meaningful. I believe it’s going to matter.
Choosing to Show Up Fully
And I’m committing myself to it.
To doing everything I’m able to do.
James 2:17 “Even so faith, if it hath not works,
is dead, being alone.”
Expectation With Peace
I’m learning that hope doesn’t have to be loud or forced.
It can be steady.
It can be peaceful.
And it can still be strong.
So I’m walking into this next chapter with that kind of
expectation—not anxious, but present. Not rushing ahead, but ready to engage
fully in whatever unfolds.
Psalm 37:5 “Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust
also in him; and he shall bring it to pass.”
Be encouraged. 🧡
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