So, we’ve already established that March 23, 2018, was the turning point for me. My life before that date was active, busy, and honestly, just the way I wanted it. I had plans, goals, and dreams that I thought were firmly in my hands. But that day, everything I thought I had control over slipped away. I went from running five miles a day to spending months lying in a hospital bed, wondering if I’d ever have MY life back. I was angry, hurt, and scared. I prayed, but the silence was deafening, and I felt abandoned.
I fought hard to regain control. I thought if I just tried harder, I could go back to being who I was before. But it didn’t matter how much I wanted it—the person I was before was gone. And the life I once knew was out of reach. That realization was heartbreaking, but it was also where my real journey began. The journey to resurrection doesn’t start with strength; it starts with surrender.
