Category Archives: Faith

Cochlear implant, Deafness, Faith, Health, Hearing Loss, Low vision, Memories, Multiple Sclerosis, Stories, Visually Impaired

The Mayo Clinic

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If you’ve never been to the Mayo Clinic, as I had never been, you might have been just as awe struck as I was. It felt like a theme park for sick people. We had been anxiously awaiting this visit since it was first mentioned by the doctors when I was at my sickest. We felt like our options had been exhausted, and that this was our best hope for some answers. 

We were scheduled to go in late January, at the height of winter storm season in Michigan. We chose to drive because it was much cheaper than flying, and Mike was perfectly comfortable driving the ten hour drive from Michigan to Minnesota. In addition, we didn’t know how long we would be there, because they don’t tell you that. They can estimate, but this is where the fascination for me came into play. They only schedule that first day of appointments. They wait until you are there, until they’ve met with you and run preliminary tests, before they schedule the next round of appointments on the following day. Appointments and procedures with real professionals, scheduled on the fly! They literally take it one. Day. At. A. Time. Everything is handled in this enormous complex with tunnels (so I hear, I never actually noticed any, but that’s not surprising given my state of mind at the time and my poor vision). It’s an incredibly well-oiled machine and I was so impressed, but I don’t ever plan on going back. 

We left on a snowy Monday. The worst of the weather was in Michigan, it got progressively better as we drove through Indiana, and by the time we were in Illinois it was smooth sailing. There wasn’t much traffic through Wisconsin and after ten hours on the road, we arrived in Minnesota to a balmy negative 12 degrees Fahrenheit. It was very cold and a little windy but at least the sun was shining. We checked into our hotel and settled in to rest for our first day of appointments on Tuesday.

On Tuesday our first appointment at the clinic wasn’t until the afternoon, so we took advantage of the extra time and ran some errands. Got the oil changed on the truck, bought some necessary supplies for the week, and had lunch. Then we took the hotel shuttle to the clinic. Very handy. Our first doctor had a ponytail and reminded us both of the tall guy from Penn & Teller, though at the time we couldn’t remember which was which (it was Penn). This doctor asked all sorts of questions and did some basic reflex/sensory testing. He thought all signs pointed to vasculitis, but he needed to do more testing and gather more prior medical records. This whole time Mike was typing everything for me on his laptop, so that I could answer the questions the doctor was asking. We left knowing they wanted an MRI, blood tests, and possibly a plasmapheresis, so we understood we might be there for longer than a week. That was it for the first day, surprisingly, but I was confident we were in good hands.

Wednesday we were up early so I could have blood tests and several eye exams. They put drops in my eyes and took photos inside and out. It wasn’t Glamour Shots but it showed them what they needed to see. We thought we were done for the day but then we got a call from the doctor to come back that afternoon to discuss the results of his research on MRIs and MS. I don’t remember any details of these discussions. What I remember is sitting there, in silence, feeling dazed and overwhelmed.

Thursday I had a very early appointment for an MRI. This MRI was arguably the longest and loudest one I had had to date. Not that I could hear it, because even with my hearing loss they gave me ear plugs, but I could feel the vibrations from the noise. I told the technician afterward that my kids would love to have a picture of the bulldozer that ran over me. I also had an appointment with an ENT in the afternoon. I remember it well. We walked into the waiting room and a woman quickly took me back to the testing area, telling my husband to stay and fill out some paperwork. I told them I needed him with me but they insisted I would be fine. I wasn’t fine. The woman was trying to talk to me, and she was writing things down with a regular pen, which I couldn’t see. At this point I had been having people write for me with sharpie pens, because nothing else was dark enough. I just cried and said, “Can you please just get my husband?” They brought him back and conducted a few hearing tests. The speech recognition tests were impossible for me and I cried some more. The third test was in a separate room. This one was nice because all I had to do was sit with electrodes stuck to my head and wait. It was after this test that they were able to tell me what was happening with my hearing. I simply had a bad connection between my ears and my brain, and cochlear implants would likely work very well for me. This news gave me a lot of hope.

Later that day I met with the doctor again (ponytail Penn) to hear his conclusion about my vision. His determination was that it was permanent. Irreversible. There was nothing they could do to repair the damage to my optic nerves. Mike and I left his office and stood, stunned, in the lobby. I was devastated. I remember resting in my husband’s arms, just sobbing uncontrollably. A woman who had been at the front desk every day that week walked up to us, offering me a box of tissues and an invitation to join her family for dinner. Since we were leaving the next day and I was not exactly in the mood for being around people, we declined. However, she offered to be praying for us, and that really encouraged me. We believe she was Muslim and hoped our God would honor her prayers. 

 I left that day talking of guide dogs and reading Braille but Mike told me to stop. I was getting way ahead of myself, and we would deal with all that if we needed to, but right now we didn’t need to. We had two good pieces of news. One, the doctor had recommended a plasmapheresis when we got home, which they believed would stop any further damage from happening to my optic nerves. And two, I was a perfect candidate for cochlear implants. So, there were things to be hopeful about.

And that was our final consultation! We were driving home the next day. Everyone at Mayo Clinic was extremely helpful and kind. I had hoped for better answers by the end of the week, but I was grateful to learn that I was not dying and that there were steps I could take going forward.

Deafness, Faith, Hearing Loss, Music, Stories

Losing Music

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Friends and family who know me know that I have always had a deep love for music. Music is what comforts me, inspires me, brings me joy. Music is my Happy Place. Not being able to hear music was a heartbreaking loss for me. However, in between the tinnitus and the silence, there was a song stuck in my head. What was so miraculous is that it wasn’t a well known song, or one I even remembered singing. This song, with lyrics inspired by Psalm 40, became my mantra. I sang it to myself, in my head mostly, but often when left alone I would hum it softly or belt it out in the shower. The lyrics were so perfect for what I was going through that I considered it my theme song. 

Jesus, Lover of My Soul

Jesus, lover of my soul
Jesus, I will never let you go
You’ve taken me from the miry clay
Set my feet upon the rock
And now I know
I love you
I need you
Though my world may fall I’ll never let you go
My savior
My closest friend
I will worship you until the very end

Deafness, Disability, Faith, Funny story, Hearing Loss, Multiple Sclerosis, Stories, Visually Impaired

Fear and getting lost in my own home

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This is another story that took place in late 2013 when I was still very new to vision loss and hearing loss. I have quite a few stories packed away, and plan to bring some out here on the blog, once a week or so. This one is quite funny to think about in retrospect but at the time it felt quite terrifying…

Our kids were gone to Grandma’s for the weekend (my mother-in-law) and I woke up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom. For some reason I used the one in the hallway, rather than the master bathroom. I’m not sure why, and it doesn’t really matter, only that this wouldn’t have happened otherwise.

Remember now that I can’t see well, I’m completely deaf, and all the lights are off so it’s pitch dark. I made it to the bathroom without issue, but when I turned off the bathroom light and stepped into the hallway I was rather disoriented. I knew enough to turn to the right, having lived in this house for fifteen years, but then I kept walking forward into my room. Or what I thought was my room. When I didn’t find my bed, I panicked. Legitimate, full on panic. I was reaching around trying to discern where I was but I had no idea. I was turning and flailing expecting to find our closet, a bed. a dresser, anything that would register familiar.

And then I started screaming for my husband. “Mike, Mike! Help! I don’t know where I am! MIKE! I couldn’t hear myself, or any response from him, of course, so I was just hoping I was screaming loud enough to wake him, and then I would wait a minute for him to come to me. When he didn’t come, I would start screaming again, to be sure he would know where to find me.

Did I mention this was an 1100 square foot ranch with three bedrooms? Not an escape room or corn maze. Not rocket science.

So this screaming and waiting went on for several more minutes, maybe 10 or 15, until I decided it wasn’t working and I was just going to have to sleep right there on the floor, wherever that was. So I sat down in defeat. That’s when I felt the rug, and I realized then by the texture that it was the race car rug in my son’s room. Right next door to mine. I was so relieved I didn’t even bother laughing at myself. I’ve had plenty of time to do that since. I just got up, felt around for the doorway I had just come through, and found my way to my bedroom and safely into my bed. I laid a hand gently on my husband’s chest, wondering why he hadn’t come to my aid. I could feel the vibrations; he was snoring. He hadn’t even heard me screaming. He slept right through it. I didn’t tell him about the incident until five years later. He wasn’t even sorry, can you believe that?

This journey I’ve been on since 2013, adjusting to life with disabilities, learning how to be me with limited vision and deafness, has taught me so many things, but one of the biggest lessons I’ve learned is that God isn’t always (almost never, if you ask me) going to tell you His plans. He may be keeping you in the dark about all the details and sometimes you just have to sit and wait until He shows you where to go, one grueling step at a time. And no matter how lost you feel, you might just find you’ve been in the right place all along.

Coronavirus, Exercise, Faith, Family, God speaks, Kids, Low vision, Multiple Sclerosis, Running

Seeing the whole picture

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I had a good weekend. I can’t say it was much different than most other weekends, but after last weekend it was just nice to have some positive moments. Last weekend I was faced with a pretty frustrating situation. I had been informed on Good Friday that my long term disability insurance claim (the one they’ve been paying me on for 6+ years without issue) was being terminated. The letter of explanation detailed my level of activity with running and Bible study and so forth (based largely on what they read here in my blog) and my 20/20 vision that was noted in a recent visit to the low vision specialist.

Now, most people probably assume that 20/20 vision means perfect vision, but that’s not the case. I have a visual field defect, and that means I only see a portion of what others see. Of that portion that I can see, I see clearly, i.e. 20/20. So, to say someone has 20/20 vision does not always mean they are seeing the whole picture. And while I love to think about how this concept can be applied to life in so many abstract ways, my brain isn’t ready to go down that rabbit hole today. So maybe another day. Or maybe not.

All that to say, this letter of determination from the insurance company completely left out the details of my visual field defect. Of course, I’m appealing the decision and I have an attorney working for me to file the appeal. I’m really hoping and praying that God is in my corner on this one and that I’ll be able to restore my long term disability income. But if I’m being honest, I was livid when I initially received the news. Trembling, fuming, crying in the shower livid. However, I’ve had lots of time to pray about this and to hash out all my feelings with a few friends and family members, and I’m doing much better now. I’m still holding onto a little bit of bitterness, but I’m working hard to let that go. Last night I had written an entirely different blog post and I felt God nudging me away from the Publish button and towards reading James chapter 3. I’m so glad I responded to the nudging because James chapter 3 was all about taming the tongue. It was definitely a message meant for me. I love how God speaks to us so clearly, when we take the time to listen.

In other news – I haven’t been running much but I’m trying to get my stamina back up because I need to run a virtual 5k this week. I’ve never done a virtual race before but I signed up for this months ago and this is the week we are “supposed” to be running. I went for an almost 3 mile run yesterday, and only had to walk for a short portion at the end. In the first mile though, I nearly fell. I always wish I had these moments on video, because in my mind they are quite comical. I was running alongside the curb, on the street because there are fewer cracks to avoid, and at a whopping 13 minute mile pace, I ran directly into a fallen tree branch. I whispered profanities as I scrambled not-so-gracefully forward in order to escape the clutches of the evil tree branch. (If I don’t have a video, the least I can do is describe it Dramatically lol) I did not fall, thankfully, but I’m sure the van that was passing as I struggled to free myself got a kick out of the sight. I sustained only one tiny injury, a scrape on my shin, and am ready to get back out again as soon as the temperatures climb back up above 40 degrees.

This past week I’ve had a lot of great interactions with family members I don’t talk to nearly often enough, and that has been refreshing. Phone calls to and from my big brother and my oldest younger sister. A refreshing Zoom call with my cousins here in Michigan and down in Georgia. And grilling out with my husband and kids. All in all it was a great week. This coming week is when the online learning officially starts for the kids, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m winding down with BSF and FPU so those will be out of the way very soon. I’m looking forward to warmer days and praying that God would heal this world quickly, and sustain us in the meantime. Be well, my friends, be well.

Coronavirus, Faith, Family, God speaks, Kids

There’s a new sheriff in town

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For the past week and a half I’ve been allowing my kids to sleep in and stay up late, playing video games in their rooms all day. However, I’ve been listening to Celebrate Calm parenting podcasts and now I’m feeling motivated to be more intentional and proactive with engaging my kids in healthier daily activities. We will see how I feel about it in the morning, but after talking with the kids this evening, I think they understand that their state of total freedom is ending. They were laughing and joking and even offering up ideas for activities. So tomorrow I’m going to try to stay up when my alarm goes off at 7 am. I’ll have my coffee and devotional time with Jesus, and then I’ll scribble out a daily plan. Hopefully a plan better than the one I proposed this afternoon (pictured below).

I’m going to try to make this a fun, adventurous time. I’ll still want them to incorporate some official schoolwork, using the resources their teachers have been sending us, but I also want to capitalize on this time I’m having with them. This is like bonus time, and I want to take full advantage of this and use it to get to know my kids better. I’m looking forward to this and I’m praying God will bless this time. If all goes well, they will look back on this year with fond memories*.

*I wanted to call this new endeavor “Corona Camp” but my son didn’t think that was a very good idea. Not age appropriate, or something, I guess. I’m open to other suggestions if you’ve got any!

Cochlear implant, Faith, Family, Financial Peace University, Food, Writing

Good days

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I came back from tonight’s Financial Peace class really energized and excited. It was the baby step 2, dumping debt lesson, and that one always gets me a little emotional. We had really great discussion and everyone seems to be coming from very different places in their financial journey, yet we were able to have mutual respect for each other and a cohesive, lively discussion. I’m super stoked and looking forward to next 7 weeks.

Also, I’ve been working hard to not hate cooking lately. I get myself psyched up for each meal by streaming music to my cochlears and I wear a fancy apron and I dance while I’m cooking and stirring and measuring. When I started this ritual a couple weeks ago I made several really bonehead mistakes and screwed up some of the easiest dishes. Tacos, mashed potatoes, rice, stuff like that. My family takes it in stride but I think only because they love me and I laugh with them when they are laughing at me. It’s all good. Tonight we had baked herb chicken with salad and stuffing. I didn’t mess anything up and nobody complained so it’s a half win. If anyone had raved about it I would have called it a winner and made a note to add it to the list of regulars, but it was just meh.

I’m doing really well lately, all around. I’ve got some minor health issues but I’m working with my doctors to get to the bottom of things and I’m not in any pain or discomfort. For now, anyway. It comes and goes but it’s nothing serious.

That’s a little cryptic but I’m leaving it there. I’m trying to focus more on positive things that are happening around me and less on the other stuff. For now. We’ll see how long I can keep up with it. Ha!

Oh! I’ve been stuck writing my memoir but I received some great encouragement from other writers. One, it’s a very long process and I would do good to stop rushing myself. Two, I need to keep my primary purpose in writing the book front and center. And three, I need to write an outline. That last one seemed so simple, I was kicking myself for not having thought of it, but sometimes it’s hard to see clearly when you’re in the middle of it. So this week that is my writing goal. Start writing an outline.

That’s all for tonight folks. I leave you with these nuggets of wisdom given by our guest preacher at church today:

“Wilderness living is designed to make us willing.

Even Jesus had to be perfected through suffering.”

Deep thoughts, Disability, Faith, Family, God speaks, Multiple Sclerosis, Writing

Abbey trip reflections

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So, folks. I’ve gotta get this nagging voice out of my head, so I’m just gonna spill it. I said I would talk about what I heard at the Abbey almost two weeks ago, so here goes nothin’.

The biggest revelation, the biggest message I heard God speaking to me was that I need to keep sharing my stories, and with that I need to get back to writing my memoir.

We were sitting in the chapel, following along with the Psalms the monks were chanting, and they came to Psalm 40, which I recognized to be the one given to me when I lost my hearing. Given to me, as in, I heard the song “Jesus, Lover Of My Soul” one time in a movie many years prior, and then it was all I could hear in my head when I could very literally hear nothing else. That song, that Psalm, became my mantra for over a year. The words “taken me from the miry clay” resonated with me on so many levels.

Reading the Psalm in church got my attention, but that’s not the part that spoke the loudest to me. What spoke to me most was when I went back to the cottage and read the Psalm for myself. Verse 3 in particular, and I immediately felt God saying that I needed to continue writing – “singing my song” – so that people will see Him and put their trust in Him.

He put a new song in my mouth,
    a song of praise to our God.
Many will see and fear,
    and put their trust in the Lord.

What my sister helped me see was that writing my memoir is much like training for and running a long race. It takes time, it might not look pretty, but the most important thing is that you keep working towards the goal. The key is consistency. So even if it’s just a half paragraph a day, or even every other day, it’s okay. I just need to be committed to not quitting. I will get this memoir written. It’s going to take a lot of patience, and you can bet I’ll need a lot of help, but dang it I’ll have it done eventually.

I have over 7000 words written at this point, and I’m kind of stuck as to where to go next, but I’ll keep chipping away at it. I’ve told a lot of small stories to make up those 7000 words but there is still a surprising amount of detail left to tell in order to make it a complete story. Some of those are details I don’t possess, memories that aren’t mine to tell because I was either sleeping or only somewhat conscious, but that’s where I’ll need to utilize my new “asking for help” skills.

It’s quite intimidating, the idea of writing a book. I have author friends and family so I know it’s possible. Normal human beings do it all the time. I just worry that it’s not possible for me, because I have cognitive struggles from the M.S. But that’s the primary thought that’s kept me from working on the book, so I need to stop thinking it.

Cognitive struggles due to M.S. Big Fat Sigh. This is probably one of the most difficult parts of the disease for me to accept. I was always the smart girl, the know-it-all, the straight A student. “That Mindy, she’s so smart”. I never had to struggle to understand things. That 4.0, smart girl persona? I let that define me, and now that that part of me is being chipped away, it seems my self-worth is being chipped away right along with it. This is painful to write about, but maybe it needs to be said, because as I’m writing this I am getting rather emotional. And in my experience, that lump in my throat is usually the first step towards healing a deep wound I have been ignoring for far too long. I need to swallow that lump, along with my pride.

I struggle daily with forgetting things. I know people say this is typical of aging, but I know it’s more than that. I also struggle with comprehending simple concepts, whether they are new to me or not. I struggle with holding conversations and putting ideas together. I struggle hard with writing, and this is the most heartbreaking. I have always loved writing. I have kept a diary since I was a little girl. I started blogging back when you had to write your own code. I journal thoughts in my head throughout the day, and sometimes those thoughts actually make it to my written journal. Just today, my laundry folding was interrupted by this blog post forming itself in my head, itching to get out.

Writing is part of who I am, so when I set such an ambitious goal as writing a memoir, having never written a real book before, you can imagine it’s frustrating to feel like you are unable to make any progress. When your brain just refuses to make the necessary connections, it’s very discouraging.

But! I read a meme recently that reminded me that when God calls us to something, he factors in our failures and frailty. So I’m taking that as truth and leaning on Him, always and forever.

Faith, Family, God speaks, Vacation

St. Gregory’s Abbey 2019

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Last weekend my sister and I traveled south to stay at an Episcopalian monastery. This has been an annual tradition for us, and this was our 9th year. One of the ministries of this monastery, besides constant prayer and worship, is to provide a place for others to retreat from life, reconnect and reset. Pushing the reset button looks different for everyone, but for my sister and me three days of time alone and away from the hustle and bustle is the way to go. We are both very introverted, so time alone definitely recharges our batteries.

Every year we have stayed in a cottage at the back of the property. They do have a dormitory near the chapel and main building, but we have never stayed there. Well, I have, on solo visits prior to our annual tradition of going together. We enjoy the solitude of St. Benedict’s cottage, away from the monks and the other guests (except when we are attending chapel services). We also really enjoy having a kitchen for preparing our own food, which you don’t get with the dormitory. We started this tradition with elaborate menus and recipes, and as the years have gone by and we get older (and perhaps a little lazier) we have reduced the complexity of our menu plan. We have never felt hungry or lacking, and we always go home with food leftover.

Every year has been different, but also much the same. Nothing about the monastery has changed since we started coming. The cottage looks identical now to the cottage we stayed at our first visit in 2011. The schedule of church services is the same, and the chapel smells as it always does, of heavenly incense. The lack of change is strangely comforting. What is different for us every time is how much we are dealing with in our lives, good and bad. Every year one or both of us has had challenges we are battling, and the beauty and the gift of these weekends is that we are able to really look inward and upward for answers, reassurances, and guidance.

I can’t say what these weekends mean to my sister, but for me it’s a time to reconnect with each other, and also with the Lord. I have great conversations with God on these weekends. Not that I don’t have conversations with Him at other times, but the difference at the Abbey is that I do a LOT more listening than talking. And boy, does He have a lot to say to me. I plan to share some of what I heard from Him in a later post, so stay tuned for that.

Overall it was a very transforming and therapeutic weekend, and I look forward to many more down the road. What sorts of things help you reset and recharge?

Bible Study Fellowship, Faith, God speaks, Hearing Loss, Housekeeping, Low vision, Multiple Sclerosis

Finding Contentment

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I’ve been fartin’ around on Facebook all morning, and then I did some filing, put away clean dishes from the dishwasher, and now I’m letting my phone charge back up so I can go for a run this afternoon. I could really go for a nap but I pretty much always feel better after a run so I’m opting for that instead.

I’ve allowed myself to get really busy with all the commitments I took on, and I think I’m finally getting a handle on managing it without moving around like a headless chicken. I’m finding the key is to allow myself to relax from time to time, and when I say that I mean REAL relaxing, not the fake kind. I’m giving myself permission to sit with my feet up, read a book or crochet, sip some coffee, and NOT feel guilty. It’s really nice, but it’s strange how difficult it is for me sometimes. It does take some self-talking to be totally okay with it. Otherwise I’m just pretending to relax. I may be sitting, but I’m secretly mulling over all the things I “should” be doing at that moment. So the Real Relaxing is nice. Very therapeutic.

I had an interesting thought yesterday while listening to the lecture at Bible Study Fellowship. We were studying the story of the lame beggar at the temple gates in the book of Acts, and the lecturer said that when the man was healed, his life became better because his disability was removed. Something about the way she worded it struck me, and a voice in my heart was asking,

“Mindy, would your life be better if your disability was removed?”

I honestly believe the answer to that question is no. As much as I grieve what I’ve lost, I am even more grateful for what it has added to my life. It has made me a more patient and compassionate person. It has strengthened bonds between my family members and my friends. It has introduced me to new people and new ideas. It has stretched me in so many ways to move outside of my comfort zone. But the most important thing? It’s that God is glorified through all He is doing through me. Because it’s certainly not me. I’m just following His directions. That is the most valuable outcome of all this, and what I have been praying for from the beginning.

As I’ve struggled over these past 6 years with my disability I’ve been trying to find a new normal or a base comfort level. What I realized yesterday is that I am finally at a place of contentment. I am finally at home again in this body and I am content to be where I am. Fully and completely. Hallelujah. Amen?

John 9:3 ESV “but that the works of God might be displayed in Him.”

Deafness, Exercise, Faith, Family, Friends, Hearing Loss, Low vision, Miracles do happen, Multiple Sclerosis, Photos, Running, Visually Impaired

2019 Capital City River Run

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Welp, I did it! I ran a half marathon. All 13.1 miles with minimal walking. All of this training I’ve been doing really paid off, and I was able to run pretty much the entire way. I walked over slippery bridges and once late in the race because I was sensing some drop foot, but other than that I was good to go. I did NOT feel like I was dying, and despite how I looked to others at the finish line, I felt fabulous. I was all smiles and ready to sign up for the next one.

The Comradery: I simply could not have done this race without my friends. Alicia and Staci were with me every step of the way, guiding me away from obstacles and leading me down hills so I wouldn’t lose my balance. They even kept me from taking off in the beginning at too fast a pace, which is something I tend to do, and pay dearly for on these long runs. I happened to see a couple other running friends before the race started, and that really helped to boost my adrenaline. All the runners I have gotten to know are pretty special people. We are a diverse crowd, and yet everyone is so supportive of on another, regardless of all our differences. We are all running with the same goal, but for very different reasons, and I find that pretty awesome.

The Spectators: I had an entire team of spectators cheering me on throughout this race, and this was pretty dang awesome. My husband, my son and daughter (who had no shortage of hugs), my dad and stepmom, my sister and her boyfriend, my niece, and as a last surprise of the morning, my big brother. I was so surprised to see him there because he has been so busy working lately I just didn’t expect he would be able to make it. But he was there. They were all there, and they knew why this was such a big deal. It wasn’t just a race. This race happened almost exactly 6 years from when I lost my hearing and vision. In fact, that morning a memory came up on my husband’s Facebook feed. It was a posting he had sent out updating everyone on my long hospital stay. I was so sick and no one knew what was wrong with me, and I could not walk unassisted, among other numerous issues. So to have that come up on his feed the day I was running my first half marathon was just incredibly fitting.

The Final 5k: At 10 miles my family was there cheering us on, as they had in several other spots, and my son started jogging next to me. The excitement of the moment took over, and I invited him to run the final 3.1 miles with us. They frown on this sort of thing, I guess, but no one bothered us about it. He did a great job keeping me going and holding me steady down the hills. However, when we were nearing the finish, we were at the top of a very steep concrete ramp that feeds into the baseball stadium where the finish line was. He danced on ahead of me while Alicia and Staci took my arms to help me down. I was so embarrassed to see my husband at the bottom of the ramp, taking our picture. It looked rather pathetic, as if my legs had stopped working, but really it was just a matter of keeping my balance down the incline. When we reached flat land my son was waiting for me and we began to sprint the last stretch towards the Finish. I was so giddy I was almost in tears. And after I crossed the line I tried to stop but instead just fell to the ground. This is what seems to happen after my races and it alarms people because it looks like I’m hurt but really it’s just muscle weakness and poor balance. The motion of running keeps me on my feet somehow, so when I try to walk it never works. They brought me a chair and a woman put a medal around my neck and we all just stayed there congratulating each other and taking pictures.

It was a fantastic race and I am so glad I did it. Every time I try a longer distance I think about how far I’ve come, and I wonder how far I can go. My curiosity I think is what drives me. I just want to see how far I can go before my body says no. Yes, it tries to tell me no some days, but I’ll always try to call it’s bluff.

I am so grateful to everyone for supporting me and cheering me on. I could not have done this without you. Most of all though, I owe my gratitude to Jesus Christ. I would not have even started on this journey into running and health if it had not been for His sustaining grace and comfort. He is my constant, every day all day running partner. Hallelujah!

The Finish Line: