How many times have I called out to God to save me, save my friends, save my family?  Save us.  Save us. Save me from this illness.  Save me from this pain.  Save them from this heartache.  Save us.  Save us.

Fighting the Fight

I texted a girlfriend recently. "I’m fighting the fight." I was OK, really – but tired and defeated and needed someone to know.  Fighting the fight.  It felt like the most honest four words I could string together.  I’m here, I’m fighting.  I’m not giving up, but gracious, it is a battle today.

Fear is a Liar

But God is with me.  And with you.  Even when we give into fear, even when it overwhelms us, even when our souls and bodies give up, and even when our bodies bear the scars of fears past.


Between the cast of her eyes, the tone of her voice and the way she had touched me as though estimating the size of a horse in hands – it was abundantly clear that my body was . . . wrong.  Defective.  Obviously not as beautifully made as her daughter’s.

To those who love us

So, thank you for not giving up, thank you for loving us in the darkness, for continuing to stay beside us even when you are exhausted and we are not responding the way you hope we would.  Thank you for propping us up when we are falling over, for calling us out when we need it, for wiping our tears, for all that you do. Thank you for being the greatest.

Speaking Up

It felt important to speak up.  To let them know.  To help make sure that no one else feels like they have to walk through this alone.

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