Faith, Friendship, and a White Washcloth

Managing Saliva: A Journey of Adaptation and Unexpected Blessings

Some topics are tough, but sharing them can encourage others facing similar challenges. Today, I want to share my experience with saliva control—or rather, my lack of it—following my 2009 accident.

Yankauer Tip

No Swallowing, No Control

When I suffered my injuries, one of the immediate effects was losing my ability to swallow. This meant I had an overabundance of saliva that I could not control or keep in my mouth. I also had a near-constant nasal drip, making things even harder. The saliva and nasal fluid flowed almost non-stop, making it necessary to have a way to keep things sanitary.

To manage this, I relied on a Yankauer suction tool, a medical device designed to clear secretions. It became a constant companion in my daily routine. It’s typically attached to a suction hose and designed for efficient fluid removal. Its durable construction and ergonomic shape make it a reliable instrument in bedside care settings.

This device was something I had to use all the time. I had to change out the suction tip regularly, and nurses would sometimes need to replace the hose.

Fixed Suction Room Design

In old pictures of me in my wheelchair or hospital bed, you might see a white washcloth near my neck. That wasn’t just for comfort—it was to catch any extra saliva or nasal drip. Managing this at night was a constant battle. I would wake up to find my washcloth completely saturated, and this happened from the very first day and continued without stopping.

Then, one night, something changed. I woke up the next morning, and my nasal drip was completely gone. Just like that. I don’t know what happened, but I see it as an unexpected blessing from the Lord. I don’t know where all that liquid went, but I am beyond grateful that it stopped.

“God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1)

Life at Home: Adjusting to New Routines

Once I returned home, I still relied on a suction system for a few months, but this time, I had a portable Yankauer Box that collected the liquid into a container. My mom had to empty it daily—sometimes even twice a day—because it would fill up quickly. To help with odor control (because let’s be honest, mouth fluids don’t smell great), we would pour a little Listerine into the container to keep things fresher.

Portable Yankauer Box Components

To help reduce my saliva production, I also wear a prescription Scopolamine patch. It’s a small patch I wear behind my ear, alternating sides every 72 hours. While it has helped tremendously, my saliva production still varies depending on the weather. When it’s rainy or snowy, my saliva tends to increase, which can make management a bit more challenging.

Lessons in Adaptation

Looking back, learning to manage my saliva was not just about medical devices and hygiene—it was about patience, adaptation, and persistence. It was frustrating, exhausting, and sometimes discouraging, but over time, I found ways to improve.

I hope that by sharing this, others who may be struggling with similar challenges can know they’re not alone. Some improvements happen slowly over time, and some—like my nasal drip disappearing—happen in an instant, reminding me that God is always at work, even in the smallest details.

“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)

The Importance of Weight Shifting: Preventing Pressure Sores

Wheelchair Weight Shift, 2009

While learning to manage saliva was one challenge, preventing pressure sores was another crucial aspect of my recovery. I needed to know how to manage pressure on my body due to extended periods of lying in bed or sitting in a wheelchair. When mobility is limited, it’s crucial to be mindful of weight distribution to prevent pressure sores—a serious issue that can develop when too much pressure is placed on the same areas of skin for too long.

Weight Shifting in My Wheelchair

To prevent pressure sores, I had to perform weight shifts every 30 minutes while sitting in my wheelchair. This meant that every half hour, I would tilt my wheelchair backward, putting myself into a more horizontal position for one full minute. This simple action relieved the constant pressure on my buttocks and lower body, giving my skin a break before I returned to my upright position.

This routine was essential to my daily life. Without regular weight shifts, people who are constantly in a wheelchair or bedridden are at high risk for skin breakdown. Pressure sores can become extremely painful, take a long time to heal, and even lead to serious infections. That’s why caregivers and medical staff emphasize the importance of movement, even if it’s small adjustments like tilting in a chair or repositioning in bed.

Repositioning in the Hospital: No Such Thing as Undisturbed Sleep

While in the hospital, I couldn’t perform weight shifts on my own while lying in bed, so the nurses took on that responsibility. Every four hours, they would come to reposition me—sometimes moving me onto my back, then four hours later shifting me to my right side, propping me up with pillows and blankets, and then next time moving me to my left side.

This wasn’t just during the day—it happened throughout the night as well. So, as you can imagine, getting a full night of undisturbed sleep in the hospital was impossible. Just as I’d start to drift into deeper rest, it would be time for another repositioning. While frustrating at times, I knew it was necessary to protect my skin and prevent pressure sores from forming.

Visitors

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

Why Weight Shifting Matters

For anyone with limited mobility, whether due to an injury, surgery, or a medical condition, being proactive about weight shifts is key. Caregivers play a vital role in helping those who cannot shift their weight on their own, ensuring their loved ones don’t experience painful skin damage.

Looking back, I’m thankful that I was taught the importance of weight shifting early on in my recovery. Though it was a simple action, it was a necessary step in maintaining my health and preventing further complications.

The Power of Presence: Family Visits and Support

One of the greatest blessings during my recovery was the unwavering support of my family, friends, and coworkers. Being over four hours away from home at Shepherd Center in Atlanta, Georgia, I knew visits weren’t always easy. Yet, despite the distance, my family and loved ones made the effort to visit as often as possible, some even every other weekend, strictly keeping to their visitation routine.

Shepherd Center didn’t restrict visitation, allowing my family to visit freely. That policy made a world of difference in my healing process. The emotional support, the simple presence of a familiar face, and the reminder that I was not forgotten helped me push through even the toughest days.

A Wall of Encouragement

Besides visits, I received countless cards and letters full of prayers and encouragement. My mom taped them onto the hospital wall, and I remember how they covered an entire section of the room—a visual testament to the love and encouragement pouring in from all directions. All the colors of the rainbow with hand written, heart-felt notes. I wish I had taken a photo of it, but I will never forget how that wall of words lifted my spirits.

A Community of Support Online

In addition to physical visits and mail, my mom kept a daily online journal on a website called CaringBridge. She updated it nearly every evening with details about my progress, and then she would sit beside me, reading aloud the comments and messages people left. Many faithful visitors left encouraging words and prayers online, even if they couldn’t visit in person.

Why Support Matters

This taught me that even small gestures make a big difference. Whether it's visiting someone in the hospital, sending a card, or even leaving a kind message online, those simple acts can uplift a weary heart.

The Bible tells us in Matthew 25:36, “I was sick, and ye visited me.” We are called to care for and encourage those in difficult circumstances, whether they are sick, injured, or facing hardship. I am forever grateful for those who showed up for me—both physically and in spirit—during one of the hardest times in my life.

“And let us consider one another to provoke unto love and to good works: Not forsaking the assembling of ourselves together, as the manner of some is; but exhorting one another: and so much the more, as ye see the day approaching.” (Hebrews 10:24-25)

If you ever wonder whether your kindness matters, let me assure you—it does.

Just as God provided relief from my nasal drip overnight, He also surrounded me with a loving support system during my recovery. Through every challenge—big or small—God’s presence and the love of those around me carried me through.

 Be encouraged. 🧡

                                🎵Amazing Grace My Chains are Gone

Will I eat by mouth again?

Ready to go with my lunch box.

One of the most common questions I get is: "When will you eat by mouth again?" or "When do you think that will happen?" After over 15 years of using a feeding tube, I understand why people ask. So, I’d like to take a moment to answer it fully.

My Journey with a Feeding Tube

Questions showcase a natural curiosity; hopefully I can provide answers that may help. Since July 2009, all my food, drink, and medications have been taken through a feeding tube. I don’t consume anything by mouth—not even water. However, because I love to cook and bake, I do taste food. But when I do, I have to be extremely careful to spit it out.

This caution is necessary because my esophagus does not function the way it should. Normally, when you swallow, food travels down the esophagus into the stomach. If something "goes down the wrong way," your body recognizes it and triggers a cough reflex to protect your airway. But in my case, I wouldn’t feel it if food went into my trachea and toward my lungs. That’s a major risk, as aspiration can lead to serious complications.

Even though this has been my reality for years, I hold on to faith and trust that God’s plan is perfect. "For with God nothing shall be impossible." (Luke 1:37)

The Swallow Studies

Over the years, I’ve worked with speech therapists and undergone numerous swallow studies to evaluate my ability to swallow safely. These tests involve eating different textures—like applesauce, yogurt, or ice chips—coated with barium, a substance that shows up on X-rays. As I swallow, the X-ray machine captures real-time images, tracking whether the food moves safely down my esophagus into my stomach. These swallow studies provide visual answers to lingering questions.

swallow study real-time x-ray example

I have tried every technique in the book—tucking my chin, turning my head, adjusting my posture—yet every test has shown the same result: only a small trickle of liquid reaches my stomach. After so many swallow studies that I’ve lost count, the outcome has remained consistent.

Though the tests haven't shown significant progress, I am reminded of Hebrews 11:1, which says: "Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen."

I may not see results yet, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t coming.

Medical Interventions: The ENT Procedures

In addition to speech therapy, I also pursued another avenue: working with an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) physician to explore a possible procedure to help.

The procedure involved going under general anesthesia so the doctor could inject Botox into my upper esophageal sphincter muscle. The idea was that Botox would relax the muscle for three to six months, potentially allowing for improved swallowing. However, in my case, the effects never even lasted the full three months.

While under anesthesia, the doctor would also use a tool to stretch the esophageal opening. Over several months—and even years—I underwent this procedure multiple times. Each time, the doctor used a slightly larger gauge tool, eventually reaching the size of a garden hose in diameter.

Despite all of these efforts, the procedures did not yield the results we hoped for. I don’t know why they didn’t work, but I do know that I have not lost hope. Romans 8:28 reminds me: "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."

throat stretching procedure

The only lingering effect of those procedures was a sore throat for a couple of days—nothing unbearable.

The Possibility of Eating by Mouth Again

I have been told that medically, there is no reason I shouldn’t be able to eat by mouth in the future. The ability to swallow is controlled by a nerve, and nerves do regenerate—but they do so slowly.

So, will it happen? I don’t know. And I don’t know when. But I do know this: These setbacks have not discouraged me. My feeding tube has not stopped me from living my life fully.

In the meantime, I have many dinner invitations waiting for me when that day comes! I have been blessed with family and friends who have promised to shower me with meals when I can finally eat by mouth again. I may be set for weeks—if not months—of home-cooked food from loved ones! That thought alone brings joy to my heart.

I hold onto Jeremiah 29:11, which says: "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end."

Eating Is a Social Experience, and I Love Being Included

At first, I know some people might feel uncomfortable eating around me because they know I eat differently and don’t want to make me feel left out. But the truth is—it doesn’t bother me at all! Everyone has to eat, and I actually enjoy being included in meals, even if I’m not eating in the same way.

Eating is such a social experience, and I love the fellowship that comes with it. I don’t mind being invited to restaurants or going out to eat with friends. The only difference is that I can’t be quite as spontaneous when it comes to food.

If I know ahead of time that I’ll be out for a while, I pack a lunchbox with my food and tools to administer it. When I meet someone at a restaurant, I either eat beforehand or bring my food with me if I think I’ll need it. But if I don’t have anything packed, that doesn’t mean I can’t still join in and enjoy the company!

how the esophagus stretching works

This experience has taught me a lot about planning, but it has also taught me about the importance of inclusion. Even though I eat differently, I still love to sit at the table and share in the joy of a meal. Psalm 133:1 says: "Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!"

At the end of the day, it’s not just about food—it’s about the people, the conversations, and the memories made around the table.

I always love when I cook specific dishes or bake to share with my family. The joy of seeing them enjoy my food and hearing their feedback makes me feel included in the experience, even if I’m not eating it myself. Family gatherings that revolve around meals have never made me feel out of place. I simply pack my food and eat when everyone else is eating—just in my own way. It’s understood and expected, so it doesn’t feel like a big deal.

My family has always found creative ways to make sure I feel celebrated, like when my family found a unique way to celebrate my birthday. Instead of a traditional cake, they built a "cake" made entirely of useful items—pens, highlighters, sticky notes, spatulas, and washcloths. It was such a thoughtful and creative gesture! I’ve also received a beautiful cake made of flowers before. These moments remind me that there are always ways to make adjustments that accommodate my needs while still being part of the celebration.

esophagus stretching gauges

"God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble." (Psalm 46:1)

I do have to report that there has been no significant change in my swallowing ability—at least not yet. But just because there’s no new update doesn’t mean that nothing is happening. I’m also not brushing it off, but it’s not something that consumes my thoughts, if that makes sense. It simply is what it is.

The truth is, I try to be content with where I am while still striving to move forward in my recovery. I’m not stagnant in any way when it comes to my inability to eat by mouth. I don’t let it define me, but I also don’t ignore it. I’m learning to live in the balance—pushing forward while choosing contentment.

Final Thoughts

I appreciate the kindness and curiosity behind the question, and I hope this provides some clarity. If there ever comes a day when I can safely enjoy a meal again, I’ll be sure to share that moment. Until then, I’ll keep cooking, baking, and living life to the fullest—one tube-fed meal at a time!

No matter what lies ahead, I rest in Psalm 34:8, which says: "O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him."

My circumstances have shaped how I think, my perseverance and faith. I may not taste food the way others do, but I have surely tasted and seen that the Lord is good. And that is more satisfying than any meal!

[These posts offer more information regarding my feeding tube and swallowing ability. My Daily Bread: what not swallowing means and Sustained by God: my feeding tube life]

Share, are you content?

Be encouraged. 🧡

Shaky Hands, Steady Faith

the alphabet board

While perusing through pictures of my recovery from 2009, I was reminded of something I endure that you may not know about: ataxia. Ataxia is a neurological condition that affects muscle control and coordination. Ataxia can lead to problems with balance, walking, speech, and fine motor skills. It’s often caused by damage to the cerebellum (the part of the brain responsible for coordination) or other parts of the nervous system. It can impact basic movements that many people take for granted.

One aspect of ataxia that affects me significantly is how it impacts my eyes. Nystagmus is a condition where the eyes make uncontrolled, repetitive movements, which can result in reduced vision or depth perception. These movements may occur side-to-side (horizontal nystagmus), up-and-down (vertical nystagmus), or in a circular pattern (rotary nystagmus).

I sometimes feel my eyeballs shaking vertically. (You wouldn't notice). This sensation can make me feel less confident in tasks such as driving at night or watching a movie with subtitles. When my eyes aren’t cooperating, I have to be extra cautious and alert during these activities, relying on prayer and God’s guidance to calm my nerves and keep me safe.

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

The Challenge of Communication and Everyday Tasks

One vivid memory of my early recovery is the time when I relied on an alphabet board to communicate. With a tracheostomy preventing oral communication and my right arm unable to move, my only option was to use my left hand to point to letters on the board. However, my left hand was not my dominant one and was also affected by ataxia.

Playing Connect 4 with a therapist, 2009

What should have been a simple task—pointing to a letter—often took several minutes. My hand would shake uncontrollably, moving in directions my brain didn’t intend. It felt like a constant battle to guide my hand to the right spot, but with determination and patience, I would eventually succeed.

This struggle wasn’t just limited to communication. Activities like using a spoon to pick up marbles or beads for crafts were equally challenging. Many times, I ended up spilling the items all over the table or floor. Even today, I still encounter difficulty with fine motor tasks like picking up coins.

Another memory that stood out to me was my attempts at playing a simple game like Connect 4. Early in my recovery, two games could take me up to two hours because of my lack of muscle control. Placing each piece where I wanted it to go required intense focus, determination, and countless attempts.

Imagine trying to thread a needle while wearing thick gloves or trying to walk on ice without slipping—that’s what it felt like to guide my hand to the right spot or to place a game piece where I wanted it. My brain would give the command, but my body would hesitate, stutter, or outright rebel. It was exhausting, humiliating, and humbling all at once.

I’ll never forget the first time I completed a game of Connect 4 in under an hour. I was so proud of myself because I played my brother—a very worthy opponent—and beat him. (He better not have let me win). That victory remains a vivid memory.

, 

Playing Connect 4 with my brother, 2009

"The LORD is my strength and my shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped." (Psalm 28:7)

The Gift of Patience and Encouragement

Seeing these photos reminded me not just of my struggles but also of the patience and kindness shown to me by my therapists and nurses. They never got angry or frustrated at my lack of ability. Instead, they displayed the most incredible patience, encouraging me to try again, even if it was the fifth time I spilled beads on the floor or the two hours it took to play one game of Connect 4.

This reminds me of the special, unique qualities God gives each of us. These caregivers were chosen for their roles, and their patience and encouragement were a reflection of God's grace. When I wanted to quit, their words and actions reminded me to persevere.

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

Faith Through Frustration

These challenges could have left me feeling defeated, but instead, they taught me the value of perseverance and faith. I learned to rely on God’s strength when mine was insufficient. Each small victory—whether it was finally pointing to a letter or completing a simple task—was a testament to His faithfulness and the strength He gives us to endure.

I share this part of my journey to remind you that God is present even in our struggles. When life feels overwhelming, and we face what seem like insurmountable challenges, He provides the grace and strength we need to press on.

"My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness." (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Reflection on God’s Plan

Looking back, I can see how God was shaping my heart during this process. He wasn’t just healing my body—He was teaching me patience, humility, and a deeper reliance on Him. Every shaky step and every shaky hand was an opportunity to lean into His strength and trust that He was holding me up.

Even now, I still experience ataxia and nystagmus, and I don’t know if they will ever completely disappear. However, you wouldn’t notice unless you knew what to look for—or observed me closely (but don’t stare too long!). Thankfully, there are no obvious outward signs, and over the years, I’ve come to accept that. I believe God is still perfecting His plan for my life, even if it hasn’t fully unfolded yet. His timing is perfect, even when I wish things would happen faster. This journey was unexpected; I didn’t wake up that morning in 2009 knowing my life would be forever changed. But God knew. He sees the end from the beginning.

In my humanness, I may not fully understand His reasons, but I know I must stay encouraged. There have been many moments where I felt distraught, tired, and ready to quit, but I reminded myself that I still have a role to play. I cannot sit idly by, waiting for improvement without putting in the effort. God honors hard work, and I believe that when you’ve done all you can, He steps in to give you the strength to go a little further.

This journey has taught me that while the road may be difficult, it is not without purpose. Each challenge has been an opportunity to grow, to trust, and to persevere. God has been with me every step of the way, and I trust that He will continue to guide me as His perfect plan unfolds.

I do have things that bother me because, even though I try not to compare myself to others—or even to my past self—sometimes it's just a human thing to do. But one thing I’ve learned is that with God, nothing is impossible.

There were times, because of my injuries and conditions, that I wondered if I would ever be able to do certain things—like drive. And while no one has directly said it to me, I’m sure that some people looking at my situation have had their doubts about what I could accomplish. But I have never let that stop me from trying.

I know myself. I am smart, aware, and in tune with my own capabilities. I also know when something doesn’t feel like the right time. But when I set my mind to something, I pursue it.

I pursued the goal of driving.

I pursued the goal of taking a road trip.

I pursued the goal of being comfortable using the shooting range.

In each of these, I took the time to learn all I could—to be informed, to understand the challenges, and to figure out ways to overcome them. And by doing so, I have achieved things that once seemed uncertain.

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

I don’t say this to boast but to encourage you. What seems impossible is only impossible if you allow yourself to believe it is. That doesn’t mean the challenges aren’t real. I would never diminish anyone’s struggles. But I also believe that, with determination, faith, and a willingness to adapt, there is often a way forward.

If you’re facing something that feels impossible right now, I hope this reminds you that you are capable of more than you think. And with God, nothing is out of reach.

What are your pursuits? Is God one of them?

Be encouraged. 🧡

                                                    

Dreams, Determination & Purpose

In August 2009, my life was in a fragile state after my motorcycle accident. Among my injuries was a fractured spine at T7, requiring a six-hour surgery to meticulously place the fragmented pieces of my vertebrae back where they belonged. The surgeon secured everything with two 9-to-10-inch titanium rods and screws—a procedure that was critical to my recovery.

The Significance of the TLSO Brace

After the surgery, I was told I’d need to wear a TLSO brace, commonly called a "turtle shell," to keep my torso stable and allow my vertebrae to heal properly. TLSO stands for Thoracolumbosacral Orthosis:

• Thoraco refers to the thoracic spine (upper and mid-back).
• Lumbar refers to the lower back.
• Sacral refers to the sacrum, the area at the base of the spine.
• Orthosis refers to a brace or support device.

This hard plastic shell would encase my body from just below my collarbone to just above my hips, preventing any movement or twisting that could jeopardize my recovery.

My TLSO Brace

Choosing the Butterfly Pattern

I had the chance to choose the color and design of my brace, and I selected purple with a butterfly pattern. Butterflies are a symbol of transformation, and at that time, I didn’t realize just how meaningful that choice would become.

The brace became an essential part of my wardrobe for six weeks. It was worn over my clothes, snapped together in the front and back, and only removed for sponge baths and clothing changes. While it limited my mobility, I wasn’t moving much during that period, so it wasn’t as intrusive as it could have been. However, following the doctors’ instructions to the letter was crucial, and I took the responsibility seriously.

Butterflies at the Shepherd Center

When I was transferred to the Shepherd Center in Atlanta for rehabilitation, I noticed something remarkable. Many patient rooms had ceiling tiles decorated with artwork, and butterflies were a recurring theme. It felt significant to me, as if God was affirming the metaphor of my choice. A butterfly begins as a caterpillar, confined in its chrysalis during its transformation. Once it emerges, it is forever changed and can never return to what it once was.

Spiritual Reflection: Transformation Through Faith

This resonated deeply with my journey. My accident and recovery were my own metamorphosis, a process that transformed me in every way—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. As Romans 12:2 reminds us: "And be not conformed to this world: but be ye transformed by the renewing of your mind, that ye may prove what is that good, and acceptable, and perfect, will of God."

At around four weeks post-surgery, my doctors evaluated whether I still needed the brace. Their assessment was clear: I moved enough to require wearing it for the full six weeks. Though it was cumbersome at times, it was a vital tool in my healing process, reminding me daily to remain patient and trust the journey.

Looking back, that purple butterfly brace was more than just a medical necessity; it became a symbol of hope and a constant reminder that I was undergoing a transformation. Just as 2 Corinthians 5:17 declares: "Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new."

Like a butterfly, I would emerge stronger, with a new sense of purpose and a story of God’s faithfulness to share with the world.

Blurred Reality in the ICU

During my time in the ICU in North Carolina, much of what happened remains a blur. I wasn’t coherent and don’t remember much from those weeks. The line between dreams and reality often felt indistinguishable, and I had to ask if certain events actually happened or if they were figments of my imagination. But there are some dreams from that time I vividly remember.

A Recurring Dream of Comfort

Now, I’m not saying all dreams are prophetic. However, the Bible teaches us that God can use dreams to communicate, guide, and comfort His people. Joseph’s dreams in Genesis and the visions of Daniel come to mind. Whether or not my dreams were directly from God, I cannot help but feel they were meant to encourage me during one of the most challenging times in my life.

One recurring dream stands out to me, particularly as I reflect on my journey. In this dream, I was experiencing heat—something that makes sense now, as it was July, and the hospital’s beautiful, large windows let in the summer sun. I also underwent countless MRIs, CAT scans, and other imaging procedures, all of which might explain the sensations I felt in the dream.

Symbolism and Interpretation

But what truly struck me was this: in the dream, Jake, my husband, would take my hand. Together, we would float off the ground, rising toward the sky. As we ascended, I would suddenly hit an invisible barrier, bouncing back down to earth. Jake, however, would continue upward.

At the time, I didn’t understand it, but as I’ve reflected on that dream, I see it as a source of comfort. To me, it symbolized Jake waiting for me and moving on to heaven. The fact that I could not pass through the barrier, no matter how hard I tried, spoke volumes: it wasn’t my time to go.

USS NC, Wilmington, April 2009

Finding Renewed Purpose

This realization brought me peace and a renewed sense of purpose. It was as if God was reminding me through this dream that I needed to focus on the work ahead. It wasn’t my time to leave; it was my time to live. “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end” (Jeremiah 29:11).

From that moment on, I knew I needed to do everything in my power to aid in my recovery. I needed to make every effort to regain my strength, to keep moving forward, and to embrace the life God had preserved for me.

Living with Purpose: A Life Preserved by God

This dream, whether inspired by my own subconscious or divinely given, served as a pivotal moment in my journey. It helped me shift my perspective and recognize that even in the darkest times, God provides glimpses of hope and reassurance. As Job 33:15-16 reminds us, “In a dream, in a vision of the night, when deep sleep falleth upon men, in slumberings upon the bed; Then he openeth the ears of men, and sealeth their instruction.”

For anyone going through hardship, I encourage you to look for those moments of reassurance, no matter how small. Whether they come in a dream, a kind word, or an unexpected blessing, they are reminders that God is near, guiding you and strengthening you for the journey ahead.

As I look back now, that dream was more than just a fleeting image in my mind—it was a catalyst for action and a reminder that my story wasn’t over. “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord” (Psalm 118:17).

Initially, I remember praying in my spirit that I would die. But in that moment of prayer, I felt God speak to me, saying, "You will not die." That revelation changed everything for me. So I pressed on, determined to get busy living, trusting that God still had a purpose for me.

The Bible tells us that we all have an appointment with death. It is not a respecter of persons; it can come for anyone at any time. You don’t have to reach a certain age or be in a specific situation for death to make its appearance. That is a sobering reality to reflect on.

This truth challenges us to make the most of the time we have, living without regrets. It’s important that we can feel confident in the lives we lead and the example we share with others.

How are you fully living?

Be encouraged. 🧡

 

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. 🧡