Capturing Thoughts & Holding onto Hope

This morning’s quiet time on the back patio was anything but quiet in the traditional sense — the dogs were running around visiting their furry friends, the breeze was moving just enough, and yet… there was a stillness in my soul.

In that stillness, I heard God whisper:
“Just be. You have Me. You have hope. This is how you start.”

And wow — I needed that reminder.

Because if I’m honest, my thoughts tried to go off-roading on the struggle bus. You know that feeling when your mind wants to spiral — looping on everything that feels uncertain, overwhelming, or just plain hard? Yeah, that. But in the middle of my mental detour, I felt the Holy Spirit nudge me:
“Stop it. What is the truth?”

The truth is, I don’t need to have every detail figured out before I begin. I don’t plan a 1400 mile road trip to Florida by mapping out every single gas station stop before I even know which highways I’m taking. First comes the big picture: Where am I going? Where is God leading me? What has He already accomplished in my life?

And friends — that’s why I still have hope.

Nothing on that struggle bus changes this truth: my healing is guaranteed. I don’t know when, I don’t know how, and I don’t even know if it will all manifest on this side of heaven — but I serve a mighty God who does.

“By His stripes, I am healed.”
It’s done. It’s finished. The victory is already mine.

The Word reminds me in 2 Corinthians 10:5 (ESV):

“We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ.”

So that’s what I’m doing today — choosing to take my thoughts captive, rerouting them to God’s truth instead of my fears.

And now? Zeke is giving me the look to play, and Bubby is begging for some love — so I’m choosing to play with them a while before the rest of the day unfolds.

Choose to make it a good day. Hope and healing are already in motion.

A Lesson from the Crape Myrtle

Spring is my favorite season — it feels like life itself is waking up again. Right outside our front door stands a crape myrtle that reminds me, year after year, that growth is always possible.

Every spring, I watch it come back to life, and every spring, it fills me with hope. Why? Because this tree has survived some brutal seasons — bizarre Texas winter storms, winds over 80 mph, and even tennis ball-sized hail. By all accounts, it should be weaker, worn out, maybe even gone. But instead, it keeps blooming. It blossoms, grows stronger, and becomes more beautiful than it was before.

I can’t help but see myself in that crape myrtle.

Some days, I feel like the big, sturdy leaf on the strong, established branch — confident, anchored, sure of who I am. Other days, I feel like the tiny bud on the thin branch at the back — fragile, barely formed, not sure if I’ll ever fully bloom. But the truth is, it doesn’t matter which one I am on any given day. What matters is that I’m still choosing to grow.

Growth isn’t always obvious. Sometimes it’s quiet and internal — like roots stretching deeper underground where no one sees. Other times, it’s loud and visible — bursting forth with color and life. Both forms of growth matter. Both are necessary.

That crape myrtle doesn’t rush the process, and neither can I. It simply follows the rhythm of the seasons — resting, rooting, and then rising again when the time is right.

It reminds me of this promise:

“They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”
— Isaiah 61:3 (NIV)

Maybe that’s where you are too. Maybe you’re the sturdy leaf, or maybe you’re the barely-there bud. Or maybe you feel like the storm itself has left you too broken to grow again. Let me remind you — your story isn’t over. Growth is still available to you, in ways you may not even see yet.

For me, that little tree by my door is God’s way of saying: keep going, keep growing, keep blooming.

And that’s exactly what I intend to do.

Hidden Gems: Uncovering Blessings and Lessons in Unexpected Places

Life’s a wild ride, full of twists and turns, and sometimes the most profound blessings and life lessons come from the most unexpected places. Who knew this journey would continue down a bumpy and treacherous road … and who knew how many lessons God had waiting for me in a literal bag of shit hanging on my belly!

(And yes, it may seem weird to be reflecting on this instead of Christmas at this time of year, and I am on a liquid diet preparing for my reversal surgery tomorrow … so indulge me as I say thank you to my bag for all it taught me about me and the scattering of seeds God planted in this season that will grow for years and even decades to come ….)

Think about it. How long had I gone about my days, following the same old routine, not expecting much to change? And then, out of the blue, something happens turned my world upside down. It’s in these moments, these serendipitous surprises, that we find the true treasures of life.

I’m talking about the kind of experiences that catch us off guard, yet leave us wiser, stronger, and more connected to the world around us. This time for me, it was a setback that taught resilience, identity and the power of belief. I am known for saying God’s got this! Its everywhere (even on a sign hanging in my office) and yet when this whole season of life started, I had a serious crisis of belief … was I being punished? had I done something wrong? why me? how can I really live like this?

In the quiet still moments, God reminded me of truth – His Truth! This journey was for my ultimate good and looking back over the past 5 months, I see His hand writing the story and making sure I knew He was with me – providing absolute provision every step of the way. Starting with the timing and the surgeon on call, all the way through a dear friend who is a nephrology PA to guide me and get me in with the best urologist for the addition of a nephrostomy tube (bag lady took on a whole new meaning y’all).

God welcomed my doubts, fears, the anger, the wrestling, the tears, the shame, the embarrassment and even the numerous f bombs during more meltdowns than I care to admit. God truly carried me through and let me live in His lap being cradled non-stop.

He also taught me to find joy in the simple things, like the laughter of good company or the peace that comes with a quiet middle of the night moments where I can feel alone. It’s the lessons learned when every challenge is a teacher in disguise, pushing us to grow and expand beyond our imagined limits. How do I really define myself? Am I still me with bags hanging off of me that I swear the world can smell even though everyone around me says they can’t.

So here’s what I want to leave you with: keep your eyes and your heart open. Embrace the unexpected, and look for the blessings and lessons tucked away in the nooks and crannies of every single moment of your life. They’re there, I promise you, sometimes hidden as sheer hell, just waiting to be discovered, cleaned up and polished till they shine.

Remember, it’s not just about the destination; it’s about the journey and the surprises along the way that make life so beautifully unpredictable. So go on, get out there, and let life surprise you. You never know what amazing things are just around the corner.

Embracing the Emotional Journey of Emergency Back Surgery

Howdy, friends! Let’s take a moment to dive into the rollercoaster of emotions that come with facing emergency back surgery. It’s a journey that tests our resilience, shakes our composure, and ultimately reveals the incredible strength we carry within us.

The doctor’s appointment announcing that surgery is not just an option but an emergency need hits like a tornado, uprooting plans and scattering any sense of normalcy to the winds. There’s the initial shock, a jolt of disbelief that sends your heart racing and your mind scrambling for answers. “Emergency” is a word that commands attention, demanding immediate action and leaving little room for hesitation.

Then comes the fear, a sneaky critter that slinks in with the ‘why nows’ and the ‘how comes.’ Who will take care of hunkyman in his recovery? How come this is happening now? It’s a natural response, y’all, to feel scared when your health takes an unexpected detour. But here’s the thing – it’s okay to be scared. It’s a sign that you value your life and the things in it that make it worth living.

Amidst my one week whirlwind of appointments and preparations, I dealt a profound sense of vulnerability. It’s like standing on the shoreline, watching a wave approach, knowing it’s going to hit and hoping you’re strong enough to stand afterward. This vulnerability, though, it’s not weakness; it’s humanity. It’s the raw, unfiltered truth that we are not invincible, but we are incredibly resilient.

Let’s not forget the frustration, y’all. It’s like being the dog chasing its tail, never quite catching up to where you want to be. Your body isn’t cooperating, and it’s maddening. But in this frustration, there’s also a fierce determination that rises up. It’s the part of you that says, “I will get through this,” the part that looks forward to the day when you’ll tell this story as a testament to your perseverance.

And amidst all the chaos, there’s a surprising guest – gratitude. Grateful for the skilled hands of my primary surgeon, Dr. Peloza, the support of family and new neighbors, and the chance to finally heal and move forward like others in my extended family that have conquered this exact same demon. It’s a silver lining that catches you off guard, a reminder that even in the toughest times, there are blessings to be found.

If you face an unexpected chapter, remember that it’s a mosaic of emotions, each piece significant and valid. From the anxiety that keeps you on your toes to the hope that lights your path, every feeling is part of the journey. It’s a testament to your strength, and with each day that passes, you’re one step closer to the other side of the storm.

So to anyone out there, like me, who’s about to go under the knife or is recovering from unexpected medical, know this: you are not alone. Your emotions are shared by many who’ve walked this path before you. Hold tight to your faith, your humor, and your inner warrior. You’ve got a whole community rooting for you, and together, we’ll weather this storm.

Moving In and Making It Happen: Finishing Our New Build, Completing Our Home Accessibility Changes all while avoiding Back Surgery

Hey y’all, let’s chat about the true grit it takes to persevere through what feels like a never-ending to-do list, especially when it comes to creating the home of your dreams. Imagine this: you’re on the final stretch of finishing a brand new house, a sanctuary meant to be a haven for you and your loved ones. But life throws a curveball, and suddenly you’re faced with the need for your hunkyman’s accessibility modifications, all while the shadow of an impending back surgery looms over you. That’s a story about not just building a house, but about building resilience, determination, and hope.

For the past three weeks, it’s been a whirlwind of builder BS, contractors, and decisions. Every detail, from the width of doorways to the change of kitchen cabinets, to calming colors throughout … it has been carefully considered to ensure the house is not just beautiful, but liveable for every member of our family. It’s about more than aesthetics; it’s about creating a space where barriers are minimized, and independence is maximized. It’s a labor of love, fueled by the vision of a life that embraces both the needs and the dreams of both of us.

And let’s not forget the elephant in the room – my quest to avoid back surgery. It’s like preparing for a marathon you never signed up for, but you’re determined to cross that finish line with flying colors. The doctors have said recovery road may be 6 weeks, but the thought of recuperating in a home that’s been molded to support me through the healing process is a balm to the soul.

So here’s the thing, friends – perseverance isn’t just about pushing through the tough times; it’s about the mindset you carry with you. It’s about waking up each day, putting on your game face, and tackling each task, no matter how daunting, with a spirit that says, “I’ve got this.” It’s about finding humor in the midst of chaos, and joy in the progress you’re making, inch by inch.

As I stand in the midst of boxes and paint cans, I’m reminded that this house is a metaphor for life. It’s about foundation and structure, yes, but it’s also about the love and care that goes into making it a home. And just like the modifications I’ve made to the house, I can adapt and modify my life to meet the challenges head-on, with a heart full of courage and hands ready to work.

So to anyone out there feeling overwhelmed by the mountains in front of you, remember this: you are capable of incredible things. Whether it’s building a house, modifying it for a new chapter in life, or facing surgery, you have the strength within you to persevere. Keep your head up, your faith strong, and your sense of humor close by. You’re not just building walls; you’re building a life, one day at a time. And that, my friends, is something to be proud of.

Navigating New Terrain: Cerebellar Brain Bleed and Daily Life

Life can change in the blink of an eye, and for those who experience a cerebellar brain bleed, the shift in daily living can be profound and challenging. The cerebellum, known as the “little brain,” may be small, but it plays a massive role in our ability to move, balance, and process sensory information. When a bleed occurs in this critical area, the effects can ripple through every aspect of life.

This is our new reality. On Saint Patrick’s Day, hunkyman woke up to a crazy spinning world that had tilted on its axis. Tasks that were once second nature, like walking, writing, or even speaking, now require monumental effort. The cerebellum, which once orchestrated the symphony of your movements both inside and out, is now sending mixed signals, leading to a disconcerting loss of coordination and control.

For someone with a cerebellar brain bleed, the impact on daily living can range from subtle to life-altering. There might be difficulties with fine motor skills, making buttoning a shirt or typing an email a frustrating ordeal. Balance and walking may become a daily challenge, with the fear of falling looming large. Even the simple act of reaching for a glass of water can become a test of patience and precision.

But the journey through recovery will not be just physical; it’s also emotional and mental. The frustration of not being able to perform simple tasks seems to lead to feelings of helplessness and dependency. I pray he never feels the isolation that can come from being unable to engage in social activities or hobbies … that toll on his mental health and well-being is so not needed. Yes I am praying protection over him even as I type!

Yet, within this new and daunting terrain, we have hope and opportunity for growth. He landed at an excellent inpatient NeuroRehabilitation facility that is very close to our new home. They offer therapies, such as physical, occupational, speech, and even recreational therapy, to help rebuild the bridges between the brain and the body. Adaptations and modifications will be huge in our new home to create a safer, more accessible environment. What a blessing that his care team will guide me/us through every step. A huge shoutout to family, friends, and and his care team who are providing a network of strength and encouragement.

The path forward is no where near a straight line but a winding road filled with small triumphs and setbacks. It’s a journey of rediscovery, where each step forward is a victory. It’s about learning to celebrate the progress, no matter how incremental, and recognizing the courage it takes to face each day with determination.

What I know at the center of my being – navigating the aftermath of a cerebellar brain bleed will be a journey is one of resilience and strength, a testament to Thad’s spirit and his ability to adapt and overcome. And though the impact on daily living is undeniable, so too is the potential for hope, healing, and a newfound appreciation for the simple joys of life.

Acknowledging the challenges is important, and more important is shining a light on the possibilities that lie ahead. With each day, there is the potential for improvement, for finding new ways to engage with the world, and for embracing the changes with grace and grit. The cerebellar brain bleed may have altered the landscape of our daily life, but it will not diminish our spirit as we are determined to navigate it.