My brother phoned me on June 13th, 2025. I was driving my oldest son to his weekly PT. I probably wore leggings and a soft tee. Maybe a loose sundress. I should tell you, my brother rarely calls. When I say "rarely," I mean, like once or twice a year. I should also tell you that my brother and I love each other.

On April 14th this year, my oldest son, Zach, underwent his 40th procedure. He's 24. You might've kept up with this event through my social media posts. You might've thought me worried. You also might've believed me strong. Let's not be fooled. If you asked me, How are you? those two months leading up to Zach's procedure, I would've responded, …

The small, slow steps work. Every time. This is true of difficult decisions. True of preparing a gorgeous meal. True of creating beautiful art. The fastest track might yield "results," but rarely offers a deep sense of fulfillment. For the last three years, I've suffered a variety of medical malfunctions. Maybe I've suffered this way most of my life. After yet another surgery in January, my body began her shift, away from fighting and into healing.