“Set your mind on the things above, not on the things that are on earth.” – Colossians 3:2

The past two years since Michele’s stroke have definitely been hard. As we continue to realize what our “new normal” is, it’s been challenging to see all of our losses; to compare how things were before June 10, 2017 to after June 10, 2017. That day was our demarcation line. It was the before the stroke and after.

It’s so easy to compare our lives to the “American Dream” and realize that we don’t measure up. Honestly, I can get caught in that trap if I’m not careful. The realization of things we lost was ever apparent that first year as Michele was hospitalized from June 10 until November 2, 2017. On that day, there were many victories. Michele’s hard work and much devoted prayer paid off. Her feeding tube was yanked out of her stomach, literally. I was there as the nurse just pulled it out. We were told that she would never be able to swallow again as the brain bleed pinched off her brain stem, which is what controls swallowing.

Another victory was the fact that she could go HOME! One word that I kept hearing over and over on the night of June 10, 2017 was “grim.” That word was used to describe the likelihood of Michele surviving. I was also told that if she did survive that she could be a vegetable. Then I was told that she would never be able to walk again. So far, that last assertion hasn’t been defeated…yet. Although, if someone helps guide her and supports her with a gait belt, she has walked over 100 feet. Her strength continues to improve.

While she was hospitalized that first summer, it was easy to get depressed by looking at all of the other families on Facebook and seeing what they were doing that summer. You know, of course only the bright and cheery moments are shared on social media. People tend to disguise their hurts because they are able to. But sometimes that leaves others feeling empty – like they are not doing what they are supposed to be doing with the family.

While other families were seemingly having a rather enjoyable summer, Michele was fighting for her life. I was doing another kind of fighting…to make sure Michele received the care she deserved. Then it was (and still is) countless of therapy and appointments.

Let’s switch gears for a minute. This summer was different for our family. We have been busy. All five of us boarded several planes and went to two destinations: Michigan and Alabama. We were able to go to my family reunion. We’re so glad we were able to still do that. We also went to Birmingham, AL to go to Hope Heals Camp. You should Google it! What an awesome time spent with brothers and sisters in Christ who know what it’s like to walk the hard road. You see, to be a camper (which was free to the family) you or your family member had to have some sort of disability. There were kids there with Cerebral Palsy, CDG (which is a rare congenital disorder), Downs Syndrome, Autism, you name it. There were also stroke survivors – some were young families also learning how to do their own “new normal.” It’s such a refreshing time to go to Hope Heals Camp, where everyone gets it. Everyone is suffering from one thing or another. The beauty about it is, life is done together.

Last year, coming home from Hope Heals Camp, found Michele and I really down. We missed that community. Not that we don’t have a loving community where we are, we surely do (that deserves another post, or multiple posts). But unless you are walking or have walked a similar path, it’s hard to truly empathize with people. This year was no exception for Michele. I thought I was OK. But, it has been brought to my attention that I have been really short with people lately. Maybe that’s my way expressing my disenchantment of being home. Once again, just yesterday, (thank you, Connie – my mother in-law) I was reminded that I spend too much time thinking on the negatives, which has driven my mood. She said I need to think about the positives. Considering what could have been, we have a lot to be thankful for. Thank you for helping me redirect my focus.