A Blessing I Didn’t Know I Needed

Yesterday, while Mike was back for another MRI, I found myself doing the thing every caregiver knows too well: sitting in a waiting room pretending I’m relaxed while my stomach does Olympic-level gymnastics.

Then a woman across from me started talking to me – just easy small talk at first. But somehow, in that strange way the universe has of nudging you into exactly the right conversation at exactly the right moment, we ended up sharing real things. Hard things. True things. And before I knew it, I was telling her our story.

She didn’t flinch. She didn’t pity me. She just… saw me.
And then she prayed over me, right there in the waiting room.
We exchanged numbers, and when Mike was finished, I walked out feeling steadier than when I walked in.

I’ve learned that blessings don’t always show up wearing halos. Sometimes they’re wearing comfortable shoes and holding a coffee cup in a radiology waiting room.

And God knows, waiting on MRI results is its own private hell. Every single time I hope, pray, bargain, breathe – that there’s no new tumor growth. That maintenance is working. That we get more of the good days.

But today – on Thanksgiving – I don’t want to sit in the fear.
Today, I want to sit in the gratitude.

I’m thankful for my family, the one I was born into and the one I’ve chosen. My tribe. My people. The ones who hold me up when I feel like collapsing on the kitchen floor at 2 p.m. for absolutely no reason other than life being too much.

They’re the ones who make it possible for me to hold things together the way I have – even when the pieces don’t feel like they fit anymore.

And then there’s Mike.

This week, we made a big decision. Maybe a bittersweet one, but definitely a hopeful one.

He may never get full function back in his hand. He knows it. I know it. And his motorcycle has been calling to him for months – but so has the fear of what might happen if he dropped it, if his balance betrayed him, if his hand wouldn’t do what he needed it to do.

So we did something brave:
We traded it in for a trike.

It’ll have a special clutch installed for his left hand, and it gets delivered in just a few days. He’s been smiling in a way I haven’t seen in a long time – hopeful, excited, alive in a way cancer tried to steal.

And I’m thankful for that, too.
For new beginnings that don’t look like we imagined but still feel like freedom.
For the grit it takes to keep moving forward.
For small miracles in waiting rooms.

And for all of you – for being part of our story, for cheering for us, cooking for us, texting us, praying for us, loving us.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.
May today bring you whatever blessing you didn’t know you needed.

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Ringing a bell for a MUCH better reason!

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