I’m chronic. Chronic for Christ. Or that’s my desire. But I’m in chronic pain, too.

Aren’t we all in pain? Mine is physical, yet at some point this moved to the emotional when, because of the physical limitations, my hopes and dreams began to slip through fingertips and pass before eyes.

I write my way to remembering, to understanding. Choosing to seek, remember, and behold God and His faithfulness through the chronic when life is so daily.

So what’s your chronic?

On my first day of kindergarten, my mom whispered to my dad, “I hope the world is not too cruel to her.” I am told I was a happy child.

But this happiness can dim—more yet, fade to darkness—when trials and suffering come.

Darkness came in 2012.

“I have put my words in your mouth and covered you with the shadow of my hand” (Is. 51: 6a).


At the age of 27 a debilitating pain hit me that stunned prestigious doctors and brought me to a shell-like state: memory, mind, humor, personality, and mobility decreased with each passing day. Nearly two years passed by that can best be measured by doctor appointments, tests, and time lying on the couch or our bed—in darkness.

Through a spinal tap we discovered that my cerebrospinal fluid along the dura in my spinal column was leaking at an accelerated rate causing my brain stem to sag in my brain cavity.

My diagnosis: Spontaneous Cerebrospinal Fluid (CSF) Leaks.

After three procedures around the United States—two procedures from the leading CSF Leak doctors in the world—I have improved. I have, however, not returned to normal.

“Are your wonders known in the darkness, or your righteousness in the land of forgetfulness?” (Ps. 88: 12).

I write to understand. This is partially true, for there are some things that may never be understandable.

Though my husband and I were born and raised on the plains of Colorado, because of the spontaneous, unexplainable nature of my illness my doctor at Duke recommended we move to sea level and warmer, moderate weather.

A year to test her hypothesis proved true, and we became the first of many generations living in Colorado to move away from all of our family including 9 nieces and nephews, our church family, and the plains of Colorado—permanently—to Florida.

Because of my condition, one significant effect is that I am forgetful—still.

Just as Joshua erected a twelve-stone remembrance of God’s faithfulness, this blog serves as my twelve stones in the middle of the rushing river.

I write to remember. I have a story to tell, for I have been given a story: remembering and beholding God’s faithfulness, grace, mercy, and hope in my life—History.