These last 4 weeks have been a rushing waterfall of emotions. I haven’t cried so much since my dad died. But maybe that’s ok- it’s part of my healing. I am grieving the loss of not just my independence- it feels like something bigger was stolen from me. Like a violation or betrayal that’s hard to pinpoint.

I had a story of healing, and that rogue seizure ruined it! Or did it?
A dear friend sent a card reminding me lovingly of Charles Swindoll’s timeless quote, how life is 10% what happens to me and 90% how I respond to it. (How many times have I reminded my daughter, your attitude is one of the only things you can control!)
And her last 3 words shook me: “the story continues” she wrote.

I wanted a 100% healed, never looking back story. Having that seizure felt like being kicked in the kidney. I’m in a place right now where it’s hard to even describe how heavy and intense my emotions are. “I cannot do this!” I have said many times.
 But my determined self says that’s not acceptable. I CAN and I WILL by the grace of God.

This doesn’t wreck my testimony of healing, it only adds to the complex labyrinth of my journey.
I refuse to let this steal my joy or my story of healing!