It’s late February, and after nearly two months of silence on the blog I want to share why I’ve been absent. I wish the reason were joyful—new recipes, a cookbook, travel, or family news—but instead I’ve been navigating another serious health episode. At first the experience felt too raw to write about, but as I’ve begun to recover I’m ready to share not just the physical details but what this season has taught me spiritually. I hope these reflections offer encouragement to anyone facing trials. God is at work even when it feels otherwise, and He can use our most painful seasons for good and His glory.
I’ve written before about difficult seasons—miscarriage, chronic health struggles, and long periods of waiting—and this episode feels like another test of faith. If you have a few minutes, I’d like to tell the latest chapter of the story God is writing for my life. My prayer is these words will bring hope and remind you that we’re not alone when life grows hard.
THE HEALTH CRASHES
To sum up my medical history briefly: I was relatively healthy as a child, but after college I developed severe fatigue, mood shifts, and major PMS that eventually led to diagnoses of hypothyroidism and celiac disease. Over time I adopted a Paleo-style approach, natural thyroid medication, supplements, and worked with a functional medicine practitioner. That journey uncovered leaky gut, candida, Sjögren’s tendencies, and MTHFR variants. Working with practitioners and adjusting diet helped, but I still struggled. In 2015 we experienced a miscarriage at eleven weeks, and not long after that I endured a significant health decline I call “Health Crash #1,” with major fatigue, panic attacks, weight loss, and unstable thyroid labs.
After attempting therapies and restrictive diets, I began to reintroduce foods late last year and started physical therapy for a hip injury. Unfortunately the therapy aggravated the hip and caused intense pain just before Christmas. Walking helped more than sitting or standing, so I pushed to keep moving—but days later my feet developed severe, bruising-like pain that left me unable to walk. Within a week I developed tingling and pain in my hands. Suddenly I couldn’t cook, stand in the shower for long, clean, exercise, or attend church. My sense of usefulness disappeared, and I felt dependent and helpless while my husband cared for almost everything.
This season was profoundly humbling. As my abilities were stripped away I faced three hard questions we all must confront at some point: Where do you turn when everything is gone? Who are you when you can’t do what you used to do? And is God still good when suffering persists? I’ll share how I wrestled with those questions and what I learned.
1) WHEN ALL IS STRIPPED AWAY, WHERE DO YOU TURN?
1) WHEN ALL IS STRIPPED AWAY, WHERE DO YOU TURN?I wish I could say I turned to God first. Instead I first reached for company, distraction, and then my own frantic efforts to fix everything—finding the right doctors, supplements, or regimen. That relentless striving only increased my stress and symptoms. Eventually I stopped fighting alone and turned to the Lord. The relief was immediate in a spiritual sense: peace and strength began to replace fear. Isaiah 41:10 kept coming to mind: “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be discouraged, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” When we turn to God we receive His strength and care; relying solely on ourselves leaves us exhausted and fearful.
Companionship and practical help matter, but they are limited. God’s presence is steadfast. To remember to look to Him I wear a simple bracelet engraved with Isaiah 41:10; it’s a small physical reminder to fix my eyes on God in the middle of uncertainty.
2) WHEN ALL IS STRIPPED AWAY, WHO ARE YOU?
When pain removes our usual roles and abilities, it’s easy to judge our worth by what we accomplish. In my most immobile weeks I felt like a burden, telling my husband I was a “bad wife” because I couldn’t cook, clean, or manage the blog. But our culture’s push to measure value by productivity is misleading. God’s truth is that our worth is inherent—each person is precious and uniquely purposed regardless of productivity.
When I couldn’t do my previous tasks, my identity shifted. Instead of pride in performance, I learned to find purpose in quieter, relational ways: prayer, encouraging notes, deep conversations, and receiving help from others. Those moments taught me humility and produced meaningful connection. Sharing vulnerability opened doors to compassion and fellowship I wouldn’t have experienced otherwise.
The Bible offers many reminders of this truth. The woman healed in Mark 5:25–34 had been marginalized by illness and culture, yet Jesus affirmed her worth and called her “Daughter,” restoring dignity alongside healing. Even if physical healing doesn’t come quickly, I pray we would see ourselves as Jesus sees us: valuable and loved.
3) WHEN ALL IS STRIPPED AWAY, IS GOD STILL GOOD?
My answer is yes—though that yes is often hard to speak in the midst of pain. If God is loving, why allow suffering? Wrestling with that question is part of faith. Suffering can expose selfishness and drive us back to God in ways comfort never would. Scripture shows that even Jesus walked the path of suffering (Isaiah 53 calls him “a man of sorrows, acquainted with grief”), and Romans 5 highlights that suffering produces perseverance, character, and hope. Suffering itself is not pleasant, but it can refine us and draw us closer to God and others.
During one particularly low day I asked God for help and opened my Bible. It opened to Habakkuk 3:17–19, a passage that ends with, “The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like the feet of a deer, he enables me to tread on the heights.” For someone praying for healing in her feet, the verse felt personal and strangely specific. That same day I saw a deer in our neighborhood for the first time—an unexpected sign of encouragement. I don’t believe it was coincidence. That passage became a tangible reminder that God is with me, will strengthen me, and that hope remains even now.
HEALING ON THE HORIZON?
Since the second crash, my feet have gradually improved. I’m not pain-free and still have limits on exercise and other autoimmune flares, but I can attend church, visit friends, run short errands, and be back in the kitchen. That progress has shortened my list of “couldn’ts,” and I’m deeply grateful. We’re continuing tests, ruling things out, seeing new doctors, and trusting that answers will come. Every small step forward feels like a movement toward the promise of treading on the heights.
Prayer—both mine and the prayers of friends, family, and readers—has been a lifeline. Messages and prayers from people I’ve never met have encouraged me more than I can say. If you’re facing a trial and would like prayer, I welcome you to reach out at [email protected] or use the blog’s contact form. I would be honored to pray for you. You are not alone, and I’m holding on to hope that healing is on the horizon for all who need it. Thank you for walking this journey with me through your prayers, encouragement, and support.