There’s been a part of me that didn’t want to seem like I was neglecting my blog during this season. I’ve been focusing on my personal speech work, mouth and tongue exercises, and also recording my new podcast. In the middle of all of that, I realized something important: sometimes it is good to have something written down—something visual that can be read over more than once.
Writing allows a thought to settle. It slows everything down
in a way speaking sometimes doesn’t.
As you may have heard from my podcast, this is a new section
in my journey. A new path has been revealed in my life. And when I look back
honestly, I would say the hardest thing I’ve done up to this point was putting
in the work and meeting the requirements to obtain my driver’s license again
after it had been medically canceled for 14 years.
That process was not easy. It stretched me in ways I didn’t
expect. But now I can see it clearly—it was a stepping stone. It was
preparing me for this next part of my story, which may end up being even more
challenging than what came before.
The Goal That Changed Everything
Philippians 4:13 “I can do all things through Christ which
strengtheneth me.”
At one point, I remember praying that I would rather be able
to drive than eat. That goal became so important to me. And by the grace of
God, I was able to accomplish it in six months, or even a little less. That was
a monumental achievement in my life.
But after that season ended, I found myself feeling somewhat
unsettled. Not necessarily stagnant, because I was still moving forward and
doing things—but I didn’t have a clear direction in front of me. I didn’t
have a defined goal to aim toward.
Then, recently, things began to fall into place. I’ve
already written about some of this in a previous blog post (He Supplies What We Need). But as it all came together, it felt like a moment
of realization—almost like a red flag and an “aha” moment at the same time.
It felt like the Lord was making something clear: this is
the next step. This is the next goal. This is where I am leading you now.
Learning to Hope Again
Hebrews 11:1 “Now faith is the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.”
My current focus has shifted into something very
intentional. While I still have physical goals related to strength, grace in my
movements, and walking, there is now a deeper emphasis on my tongue—its
position, its strength, and how it affects both swallowing and speech.
Right now, I am in two speech therapy sessions each week. On
top of that, I am doing roughly 10 to 11 exercises daily, usually aiming for
two or three rounds throughout the day. It has become a consistent rhythm,
something I am actively building my life around.
And I want to be very transparent about my emotional
experience in this season, even if some of it is difficult to admit.
I don’t think I have ever been this hopeful about this
part of my recovery before. I find myself actually anticipating possible
outcomes that, for a long time, felt distant or almost unreachable.
The ultimate goal would be full management of my own saliva—no longer needing
to rely on a cup, being able to swallow naturally again, and eventually moving
toward eating by mouth. Of course, that would not happen all at once. It would
be in small, careful steps. Baby steps.
Even with that hope, I can feel the tension within myself.
I am excited and committed, and I want to demonstrate how
serious I am about this process. At the same time, there is a part of me
that struggles. It has been such a long time living in this reality that I
think I wrestle with how to hold hope without setting myself up for
disappointment.
I don’t want to reach a point where I feel devastated if
things don’t move as quickly or as fully as I desire.
But I am also someone who believes that you do what you
think you can. If you believe you cannot, you likely won’t even try. And at
the same time, you don’t truly know what is possible unless you attempt it.
I tend to be an all-or-nothing kind of person. When I
commit, I commit fully. I want this next section of my life to become another
testimony—not just of endurance, but of healing and change.
Still, I think one of the biggest obstacles I face
right now is not physical—it is mental. It is learning how to quiet the
thoughts of doubt, fear, or negativity that try to attach themselves to this
process.
Renewing My Mind
Romans 12:2 “And
be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your
mind…”
In about two weeks, I will be having another swallowing
study. During this test, I will attempt to swallow things like yogurt, ice
chips, or applesauce mixed with barium. The barium allows the process to be
seen on X-ray as it moves from the mouth, through the esophagus, and hopefully
into the stomach.
I have not had a swallowing study since 2014 or even before
that, so there is a mix of anticipation and uncertainty as I wait for what this
will reveal.
And I think, more than anything, I am realizing that I
need to shift my mindset. I need to bring myself into full alignment with
this process—not just physically participating in it, but mentally engaging
with it in a steady, grounded way.
Grateful for Small Progress
Zechariah 4:10 “For who hath despised the day of small things…”
This part of my story is not unlike the others that have
come before it. My journey has never been instant or overnight. It has
always been slow and methodical, unfolding step by step. I expect this
season to follow the same pattern.
Very little in my life has changed all at once. Instead, it
has been gradual improvement—day by day, sometimes so small it is almost
unnoticeable unless I stop and look back. There have been a few moments where
things felt immediately restored or significantly improved, but most of what
I have experienced has been steady progress over time.
Because of that, I find myself increasingly grateful for
every small piece of movement forward that God allows in my body. It may seem
insignificant to someone else, but it is not insignificant to me.
For example, there are things I can do now that I could not
do before. If I could not make a clicking sound with my tongue in the past, and
now I can, that matters. If I could not place my tongue against the roof of my
mouth before, and now I can—even in a limited way—that matters. And even
though it may feel small, I am actively practicing so that “a little bit”
becomes more over time.
I am learning to take things as they are given, without
rushing ahead or dismissing the progress that is already present. These visible
signs of change are encouragements to keep going. They are reminders that I am
not stagnant, even when progress feels slow.
A Journey Without Limits Spoken Over Me
Ephesians 3:20 “Now unto him that is able to do
exceeding abundantly above all that we ask or think, according to the power
that worketh in us.”
There is another piece of my journey that, when I look back
on it now, feels unusual—and yet, I cannot help but see the Lord’s hand in it. I
have not had a neurologist since 2009. At first glance, that might seem
concerning, or even like something that should have held me back. But as I
reflect, I see something different.
Because I did not have regular appointments, I was not given
a list of things I would likely never do. I was not told where my limits should
be set. I was not cautioned in a way that might have caused me to quietly
step away from goals before I ever attempted them.
Instead, my progress unfolded slowly—day by day, piece by
piece—without those boundaries being spoken over me.
That does not mean wisdom or guidance is not important. But
in my personal journey, I can see how God allowed this path so that my
expectations would be shaped more by His ability than by human prediction.
And when I consider what I have been able to regain, what I
am still working toward, and the things I once might have believed impossible…
I cannot help but be grateful that my story was not defined too early.
Trusting God With the Outcome
Psalm 121:1–2 “I will lift up mine eyes unto the
hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made
heaven and earth.”
And I know, without hesitation, that my strength and my help
have come from God. Time and time again, He has shown Himself faithful in my
life, sometimes in ways I only fully understand in hindsight. I have seen
Him bring me through things I never thought I would come through, and I believe
He will do it again.
Right now, I am holding on to that truth. I am waiting for
His help—not passively, but expectantly—asking Him to give me the
courage and endurance to keep going, even when the process feels long or
uncertain.
This is not just about physical recovery. It is about trust.
And I am learning, once again, to trust Him in the middle of it.
Be encouraged. 🧡
