Saturday, April 30, 2011

Periodic Paralysis - The April Crash

This blog entry contains LOTS of TMI (too much information). Fair warning!!!

It has been three weeks since the Periodic Paralysis attack that has left me incapacitated. It has been a roller coaster on a daily basis, as usual, but so much more extreme than before. I knew that I was in an "abortive attack" and going downhill, but I so hoped I would not have a major episode like the ones I had in my teens and early 20's that left me crippled. Unfortunately, it is official and I have not yet recovered.

For those in the HKPP know, it was a "rest after exercise" attack. In summary, my muscles allowed me to barely make it through a teaching workshop, where I was on my feet for a few hours. As soon as I sat down, the attack kicked in full force and I drove straight to my sister's house. By the time I got there, I could barely lift my legs. Her stepdad and my brother drove me home and helped me walk into the house, gave me my meds (Avapro, Potassium), and helped me into bed. I put on the pulse oximeter and noticed my pulse rate flipping between the 70's and 80's down to 44, back up, down to 43, back up, then down to 3, then 2, then 1, then 2, 3, 4, then back up to the 70's and 80's again. I put the cell phone on the bed with me by my pillow and I fell asleep. I woke up the next day and still couldn't body had not recovered at all and I knew I needed help. I managed to turn on my side and grab the phone, where I sent a text to my brother and to my friend Katherine, saying to both that I needed to go to the ER. My brother picked me up around 4 PM and we arrived at Providence at the same time as TWENTY-SEVEN AMBULANCES. I kid you not. There was a pile-up in Mississippi near the state line, and ambulances were being diverted from other hospitals to Providence.

The triage nurse took my info, and although I could barely lift my head, thank God I was able to speak so I could say why I was there. He said he had never heard of it. Big fat hairy deal, and every other nurse I've ever known. I was unaffected by his lack of knowledge, but not exactly thrilled that I was put at the back of the line.

So we waited. For hours. My brother talked to other waiting patients, and I sat quietly as the flaccid paralysis became worse. By the time I was given a room, I could not use my body from the shoulders down. My brother and the little nurse aide managed to pick me up and put me in bed. The nurse came in and I explained that I was in a severe Hypokalemic attack but it was important to note that my potassium level would be in normal range (HKPP is not quite the same as true Hypokalemia, it involves a downward shift often in normal range). He said he understood. Then the doc came in and I repeated myself. As I began to explain muscle channelopathy and what needed to be done (like I've had to do with all doctors and nurses in the past), he cut me off and said "Yeah I know what it is." Wait, what? I was nearly speechless, but managed to say "Oh...ok. Great, thank you." That was an unprecedented moment. The ER doc knew and believed in Periodic Paralysis. Hallelujah.

They checked my serum potassium level, and I was right. It was 4.3, which is perfect for a normal human being. Not for Kelli, unfortunately. So they hooked me up to an IV, and only two mistakes were made. One I knew and told them about, but they of course disregarded it. Sodium chloride is bad news for an HKPP patient, as excess sodium pushes potassium into the muscle cells. Therefore the IV fluids, even after they added a bolus of 40MEQ potassium chloride, did nothing to bring me out of the attack. The other mistake, that I was not expecting, was letting them give me Morphine. I had an adverse reaction and thought I was going to DIE from the pain. Had I been able to move, I would have curled up in a ball and cried. But I couldn't, so I laid there and moaned until the pain finally passed. I swear to God it was as bad as a kidney stone...I couldn't believe it. Morphine on an empty stomach is on my "NO FREAKING WAY" list from now own.

The bolus of potassium, which usually hurts to infinity and beyond, didn't faze me. I even asked them if they were sure they had enough in there, because I didn't feel the familiar blazing fire of cramping that normally comes from a KCl IV. So the Morphine was, by a mile, the worst part. Sheesh.

I could move my forearms just a little before they discharged me, but they were still too weak to use and I couldn't move my legs at all. Two nurse aides undressed/dressed me, making light of the fact that they had to strip me "butt naked"...ha. Yeah, I don't have room for shame anymore...too many nurses and doctors have seen me butt naked, thanks. My uncle showed up, my brother left, and I was discharged at 3 AM Monday...still unable to move most everything and convinced that I was either going to throw up or pass out. My uncle brought me home as I was dry heaving in his vehicle, and it was quite the experience trying to get me in the house. I had zero use of my legs and my arms were on fire at that point. After several attempts to bring me to my feet, we agreed it was not happening. I told him where to find a rolling chair in the house, and he rolled me (getting up the steps was interesting) straight to my bed, where I finally got several hours of real sleep thanks to 60mg of Flexeril (injected before I left the hospital) and a Phenergan (home script for nausea).

My primary physician's office fit me in the following day, Tuesday, and I had not improved. She saw me in the wheelchair and I told her what I needed based on what other patients in my condition were on and what the ER doc suggested. Double the potassium, switch it back to Chloride, and a PRN script for Effer-K. She didn't hesitate. I told her about the pulse ox and the numbers flipping out. She confirmed that I had probably experienced heart arrhythmia. She also signed my referral to the MDA clinic in Jackson, and I finally(!!!!!!!) have an appointment with the MDA Neurologist there on May 17th. I do not have a confirmed ride to Jackson (four hour drive), so prayers appreciated that I find one.

It has been a very rocky road. In bed most of the time, on a walker sometimes, awkwardly on crutches other times (but that doesn't last long), and I've gotten to the point where I can occasionally use two canes to go short distances in the house. My potassium intake was 40MEQ a day before the attack. It is now 80-120MEQ a day. I will take a pill and improve slightly, then decline again. I returned to the doc for a potassium check this week, and my blood levels have not budged. Still 4.3 just like in the ER. I am at a loss as to what this really means, but I have ideas. I will share more about that in a video later.

On a more interesting note, I had a television interview that will air on local south Mississippi TV in early May. The video and article will be made available online, and I will share it as soon as it is available. The lady who contacted and interviewed me was lovely, and said she was excited to share my story. I hope and pray it helps to get the word out about Periodic Paralysis and the support groups that are available online, especially through Facebook. I have no idea where I would be if I had not joined Facebook and discovered that group. It has taught me AND my doctor more about this condition and how to manage it in an attempt to not only improve quality of life, but save it. That is HUGE. I am a terrible public speaker, but I hope my segment turns out ok. I'll keep you posted.

So anyway, it has been three weeks since the "big" attack. I feel like I'm on fire. I can't sleep. I'm exhausted, weak, and miserable. But I am hanging onto hope that I will recover from this. I'm staying as upbeat as I can and I'm grateful that [some] people are finally starting to listen.

I will work on that video later. I will be talking about this experience again and adding more info, including my triggers, specific meds, history, and ideas about what is happening.

I greatly need and appreciate your prayers. Talk to you soon.


Saturday, April 23, 2011

To the conflicts of the past year...

That you may retain your self-respect, it is better to displease the people by doing what you know is right, than to temporarily please them by doing what you know is wrong.

- William J. H. Boetcker

Friday, April 22, 2011

VLOG 4-22-11

The epitome of rambling exhaustion...haha.

P.S. - My words don't match my lips! Like a cheesy kung fu movie!!! Bwahahaha funnnny!

Thursday, April 21, 2011

Periodic Paralysis Update

I've been wanting to write, but words have not come easy. It has been almost two weeks since my serious crash, and I have not recovered. I have seen little improvements here and there, and I'm grateful. My heart rate fluctuates a bit but is pretty much stable. I can get out of bed and walk to the bathroom that attaches to my's only a few steps from my bed, but it's a start. I've also been using MawMaw's walker to go to the kitchen (alllllll the way on the other side of the house) at least twice a day now. I've slowly been maneuvering around the kitchen hanging onto stuff, and even sat in a chair and loaded the dishwasher the other day. Took forever and resulted in a rough night, but I did it. Still more dishes in the sink to be washed as soon as I can use my muscles well enough to do so. At the moment, it seems that every little thing is a trigger that causes me to decline again. Standing, lifting anything (including arms and legs), sitting too long (sometimes I just fall over on my bed...who cares what position I end up in, as long as I can sleep to escape for a while), weather, eating, not eating, taking a shower, not sleeping, sleeping, changing clothes...seems like everything is against me and the simplest of functions have become grueling if not impossible. I may not be able to do much of anything, but I'm a far cry from two weeks ago when I could move nothing but my head and neck, had a cath, and was butt naked in front of nurses and God knows who else in an ER hospital bed. Believe me, I'm not taking the fact that I can sit up in bed unassisted, go to the bathroom, and use my fingers to type for granted at all. Praise the Lord.

But this is definitely a very slow progression. I improve slightly for short periods of time, then decline again. I can feel a difference, but it's as if more than doubling my potassium intake is still not enough. My body is just not winning this fight, but I'll never give up.

After what...a year(?) of trying to get the MDA's attention, I finally have it now. I have an appointment at the MDA clinic in Jackson in 3.5 weeks. Much sooner than I expected, and I'm thankful for that. I talked with the coordinator for several minutes about my situation, and she was encouraging. I hope what she says about the doctor is true. I've heard nightmare stories about HKPP patients being untreated and mistreated even by their regional MDA docs. Unacceptable. I brought it up and the lady assured me that this doc will know how to treat Hypokalemic Periodic Paralysis, and is better than the average neurologist. I just pray that this is the case, because my condition has become too serious to be misunderstood or not taken seriously. I will die. I need help. I can't live in bed or in a wheelchair unable to care for myself. I don't have a "better half" to provide for me or be a support system. I have me. I have God. I have Facebook support groups who have been incredibly helpful. I have relatives putting a roof over my head and buying my groceries...I am so grateful...but they are tired and I am tired and I can't live like this. I have to be able to walk, drive, work, support myself. What other option is there for a single woman? Being independent is my life goal, and has been since I first became ill all of those years ago. So far, it has not happened...but it has to somehow.

For now, it's an hour-by-hour thing. I'm trying my best. That's all I can do. I guess that's all any of us can do, right?

I appreciate the prayers and well wishes that I have received more than you know.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Two Kisses For Maddy

Everybody needs to click on the photo above and buy my pal Matt's book. Because I said so. Ok not really. It's because he's an awesome daddy raising a darling child who looks just like her beautiful mother who died shortly after giving birth. Matt is a blogger who will make you laugh and cry at the same time, and I have no doubt his book will have me snorting and snotting and sobbing all over the place.

(My copy is en route, via

And while you're at it, visit his charity at The Liz Logelin Foundation.

You know I support good people. Matt is one of them. Show him and Madeline some love.

Thanks for looking,

~ Kelli

Saturday, April 16, 2011


While my recent entry on disappointment was long and difficult, it was not meant to produce negative results. It was a confession, so to speak, and a prayer for God to take my struggles and help me to move on and be a better person for it all. It is also a way of reaching out to others who are experiencing disappointment to let them know that they are not alone. Some people feel guilty for talking about things that hurt them, and that should not be the case. There is no shame in feeling disappointed. It is one of many processes that we were born with. We are human beings, not hyper-spiritual superheroes.

If nothing else, it proves my transparency. This blog is another chapter of my life story, and it is simply how I analyze, process, and somewhat handle my experiences...the good, bad, and ugly.

I have nothing to lose by being honest with the world, and I will have it no other way.

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Serious Periodic Paralysis Attack

I had a serious episode of Periodic Paralysis after my workshop last Saturday night. I had heart arrhythmia and ended up in the emergency room unable to move from the shoulders down. I have partial use of my arms again and can sit up most of the day, but my legs are still paralyzed.

I will write with more details later, but wanted to let readers know what was going on.

Thank you for your prayers.


Friday, April 1, 2011

On Disappointment

I don't know where to begin, but I need to begin so I can bring it to an end.

(If you're not willing to read all the way to the end, don't bother at all, because you'll miss the point entirely.)

I have had some difficult years, but I'm going to talk about the past year and a half. I am having a hard time putting it into words. So much has happened that I feel like my brain doesn't have the capacity to hold it all. I feel like I'm just walking around on slow-motion auto-pilot, merely existing while the rest of the world moves at a normal functioning pace wondering what the hell is wrong with that girl.

I'm that girl. The girl that tries to fit in and relate and get along and be the ultimate friend, teacher, student, relative, mentor, encourager, and whatever other opportunities come my way where people are concerned. The girl that suddenly became the sick girl, the awkward girl, the confused girl, the weird girl, the annoying girl, the girl that's fed up with a lot of people and a lot of things and finding the voice to make it known.

Am I sick? More than most people know.
Am I awkward? Sometimes.
Am I confused? Not as much as [some] people think.
Am I weird? Probably.
Am I annoying? Possibly.
Am I fed up? Definitely.

Am I the ultimate friend, teacher, student, relative, mentor, and encourager? Not hardly, but I try.

What am I right now?
I am exhausted.
I am overwhelmed.
I am in constant, unspeakable pain.
And I am disappointed.

A while back I talked about a friend who was seriously ill...who had survived domestic violence, lived at the shelter, was half blind, had Multiple Sclerosis, and was dying of cancer...whose life was so incredibly unfair. I wept bitterly for her and my friends and I "adopted" her in pretty much every sense of the word. She moved in with my friends and they took care of her, financially and otherwise, nearly full time. Hospice came in, end of life arrangements were made, bills were paid, gifts were given, tears were shed...everything. Come to find out, she was lying. She did not have cancer. She was not battered and left to die by her boyfriend. She's probably not half blind, and she does have M.S. but was faking some of her symptoms. She used everyone. My precious friends, who took her in and took care of her hand and foot because she was sick and dying. They sacrificed so much and cried so many tears...I cried with them on many occasions. All for this woman who claims that her lies haven't hurt anyone and has no intention of stopping. Turns out we're only a few of many that she has done this to over the years...she's a compulsive liar and a sociopath. Lots of mixed emotions, as you can imagine. Relief that she's not really dying. Anger that she lied about it...what an incredible slap in the face to those who really are suffering...the victims of domestic violence, the cancer patients, the seriously ill. Sad that there are people in the world so manipulative that they will lie, cheat, steal, do or say anything to get what they want...using, abusing, and exploiting the innocent. I was in shock, mad, and hurt. I am still disappointed to know that people can be this way, and have absolutely no remorse.

In a fourth attempt, I finally made it back into college and was doing well. But as it always has, my health quickly declined and I could tell that I was headed for a serious crash. I am so disappointed that I was right.

I relapsed and started having kidney stones again. My Periodic Paralysis continued to get worse as a result. I also had to have pre-cancer and ablation surgery in January 2010 to shut down the psycho-uterus, hopefully for good. It went exceptionally well considering how high risk I am. Unfortunately, the anesthesia triggered a further decline and my condition plummeted. A few days after surgery, I tried to return to college full time but I was so weak and sick that I nearly collapsed on many, many occasions. I was also having prolonged charlie horses not only in my legs, but my arms and even my neck which sent me to the ER throwing up and nearly unconscious. I was on crutches more than once and almost had to ask my uncle to get MawMaw's walker out of storage. I had windows of time where I was functional, and the rest of the time I was flat on my back in bed. I prayed. I cried my guts out. I tried. But I had to drop my drawing class, absolutely devastated. My instructors practically dragged me to the finish line to pass the other four classes. I am so grateful to them for not giving up on me and working with me to finish the semester. I went back to the doctor to discuss my decline, and due to the fact that she was a brand new doc and clueless about my condition, she switched my heart meds, refused the potassium dosage that I requested, and I got worse. This has been an endless cycle with doctors since I was a preteen, and I am in the condition I am today because of their ignorance and unwillingness to listen and take my word seriously. I am disappointed that I pay people money that I don't have to undertreat, mistreat, or refuse to treat me.

So I borrowed more money and went to my previous physician who I cannot afford on my own. She agreed with everything that I said and prescribed the right meds. I was so happy that I burst into tears at the thought of remission and having quality of life again. I thought about being able to continue college, teach on the weekends, resume participation in my non-profit org, and possibly work a "real" job for the first time in 2 years. I improved enough to be able to sit up most of the day and accomplish basic tasks again, but the meds could not keep up and I continued to suffer with Acidosis, daily attacks of Periodic Paralysis, and kidney stones on a fairly regular basis. My weakness, pain, muscle pulls and spasms continued. Then I sneezed one day, and cartilage tore in my chest. This had happened to me years before, on the opposite side of my sternum, and it began a year of extra misery that words just cannot express. I am disappointed that although I was correct in the treatment that I needed, my condition has progressed to the point that the meds were not enough this time to bring me out of this hell.

But I pressed on. In my stubbornness and the encouragement of my students, parents, and brother, I traveled to Florida for another painting certification. The trip was an utter nightmare, but I kid you not when I say that angels were among me. So many people, some complete strangers, came to my rescue when I desperately needed it. Flat tire, stranded, sick, unexpected expenses, half a dozen near-wrecks, dehydration, weakness to the point that I couldn't lift a thing...I would have never made it through those three weeks without the aid of several people. It was rough that I canceled my trip to Georgia to visit a friend and said I'd never make that kind of road trip again. I do of course plan to return to Florida for training (and visit my friend in Georgia), but I will have to make different arrangements in the future to make that happen unless my condition improves considerably. When I returned from Florida, I immediately started summer college classes. It was difficult but I made every effort not to show it. I felt at that point that I had become a burden to my instructor, so I stayed quiet, did my best, and completed my drawing class. When everyone left at the end of the last day, I bawled my head off in the studio and thanked God for finally getting me through those classes after over a decade of wishing. Have I finished my drawing final yet? Nope. I am disappointed in myself for not doing so, but I will. I had to give my struggling hands a break...I got to the point where I couldn't feel them and I was trembling, so I have laid low on the art side of things for a while, with the exception of teaching a few painting classes. I am disappointed that I struggle so extensively with basic tasks and motor skills, and it is a constant reminder that I live with a terminal condition that forever prevents me from leading a normal life.

During the summer, a young relative was nearly murdered by his father. It was a very scary situation and I never dreamed that I would witness a SWAT team in my little town gassing family members out of their home and taking them away. Thank God my young relative survived, but not without a great deal of trauma. I am proud of him for pressing charges against his father, who is now in jail awaiting trial. His decision has brought us safety. What a sad thing to happen, though. Our family has endured so much already over the years. I am disappointed that such cruelty exists among us, after all we've been through.

I am disappointed that I am still dealing with this and don't have a solution since it is not possible to be everyone's friend...especially when they are (or have been) an authority matter how hard I try with no wrong intentions, I have no choice but to accept that it just isn't going to happen.

To put it nicely, and this is all I'm willing to say about it lest I start cussing, I am EXTREMELY disappointed that close members (and not so close members) of my family do not care enough to take care of themselves by making the right decisions to save their own lives.

I am in my 30's and I knew it was inevitable. I am a mother at heart, an experienced nanny, and I have taken care of a LOT OF KIDS in my day. Since I was a kid myself, I have babysat from newborn to age twelve and every age in between. And now, some of those kids are at the college with me. NO. Not my babies. Not here. What am I supposed to do? Be their "pal"? Pretend I don't know them? Ignore the fact that I used to give them hugs and change their diapers and read them stories and dry their tears? Am I supposed to ignore the fact that some of them are depressed? On drugs? Slackers? Scared about college? Clueless? These are my babies. On the other I also supposed to disregard the fact that some of them have grown up to be super talented and great kids that I'm really proud of? Well hello, they're not "kids" anymore. I can't exactly run up to them and give them a hug and do a cheer. So now I'm torn. I have been a mentor to a couple of them and even now I'm "Miss Kelli", while their friends are my classmates. What am I supposed to do with that? I still love my kids who aren't kids anymore, and I love my classmates and have made attempts to befriend them as well. I became angry when I discovered that a young lady I befriended was on drugs. Then I found out that she was getting the drugs from her father, and that's when I crumbled. I realized that I was never angry at her or being judgmental...I just couldn't cope with her problem. I became a depressed mess. It doesn't matter that I wasn't her caregiver once upon a time. I don't want these kids to fail. I don't want them to be afraid. I don't want them to make bad decisions. I don't want them ruining their lives with drugs and ignorance and apathetic attitudes. ANY of them. I want to cheer them on. I want to see them succeed. When they don't, it affects me. When they hurt, it hurts my heart. They are the ages of my youngest siblings and many of the children that I grew up caring for. I can't help but make the association. And I want them to be ok. But they aren't my kids, they are my peers, and I feel like an idiot. Like I need to run away because I don't belong there. That place is not for's for them now. I once felt like I had a purpose in that department, but now I only stick out like a sore thumb. A very awkward and unwelcome thumb. I am sad and disappointed that I feel this way.

But one thing I will always do for them is defend. I had joined an association a few years ago and was involved in volunteer work through them. I paid my membership fee, knowing that I wouldn't be liked by some of the members because of my preferred genre of art. I encountered those people and I smiled and went about my business anyway. Then they asked the non-profit that I'm involved in to host a kids' show, and we did. And they were horrible to us. Called us names behind our backs AND to our was down right ugly. I stayed out of it as much as an officer could, but it was truly appalling that they insulted us so blatantly and it was all based on race, disabilities, economic status, political beliefs, and even our artwork hanging in their gallery. I heard things like "Where did they GET these people from?", "cripples with their disability money", "oh brother, look at her, she THINKS she's cute *snort*" "You know we have special parking for people like you" "Oh, all of her artwork is AWFUL...oh my God! Isn't it the UGLIEST thing you've EVER SEEN?" and of all things "Oh you're in the medical field? Well it's nice that people like you can get decent jobs like that." I was honestly too speechless to acknowledge much of it. I returned to the association shortly after and removed my artwork, but remained "in the know" via email and participated in charity events in the community even though I did not renew my membership. And then the racist, political garbage email forwards started. "I don't like no Muslims! Obama is a Muslim terrorist! This Muslim stamp is proof!" "Black people are stupid...this email survey proves it!" I sent a response proving that their emails were hoaxes, called them a few choice words, and I haven't received a "forward" since. I was, however, still receiving the general emails and participating strictly in charity events and visiting art shows for specific (oblivious to the above crap) nice artists. UNTIL they started insulting my classmates behind their backs. That was the straw. They're going to give scholarships to these kids and then drag their names through the mud? Not in my presence. I calmly defended the classmates referenced by saying how much I respect them, how AWESOME and AMAZING their work is, got up out of my chair, and walked to the door. And then a piece of artwork caught my eye. It was a floral painting that has always been there by the entrance but I had never paid close attention to it before. Turns out, it was a very well done Bob Ross an art gallery where so many are against Bob Ross! And they are completely unaware of it!!! Oh irony, how you slay me! I had to hold back the laughter! That is when I felt completely at peace about saying goodbye to these toxic people for good. So with a smile, I ended the conversation concerning my classmates with "Their genre of art may not be my genre of art, but I still know how to appreciate it." The lady walked away with her nose in the air, and I shut the door.

I am always saddened and disappointed to burn a bridge, but by standing up for my classmates, I guess in a way I finally stood up for myself as well. I do not regret it and I would do it again in a heartbeat. I realized that those people did absolutely nothing to benefit me. In fact, they brought me down from the start. I didn't need them before I joined and I sure don't need them now. I requested that I receive no more emails from the association, parting ways very amicably. No problem and have a nice day. So I can say with rare confidence that it is not my loss. Lesson gained. Moving on.

I am disappointed beyond words that I cannot be a wife and mother, or even qualify to foster and adopt children who are already on this Earth in need of love and care.

I am disappointed that I haven't lost weight since being taken off of hormone therapy after 16 years.

I am disappointed in this country's government, justice system, and heartless medical care industry.

I am disappointed that my adviser has become noticeably impatient and/or uncomfortable with me when he is one of my heroes. In the beginning, he cheered me on. The second semester and beyond, I feel that he merely tolerated me because it is his job. It was a major change that I don't understand and there isn't a thing I can do about it. All I know is that I remained true to myself and I tried to be a good student.

I am disappointed knowing that if I unexpectedly die, most if not all of my family will not know what really happened, because they have little to no interest in understanding my systemic disease(s).

I am disappointed that some of my friends have ditched me and others, preferring their own world online via World of Warcraft and other games, not caring that we're here thinking about them, sending messages of concern, and wondering how they're actually doing in real life.

I am utterly devastated that one of my spiritual mentors...who I grew up with and is practically family...that I love and respect dearly has fallen off the wagon and made terrible relationship decisions, including leaving his seriously ill wife who he swore he would never leave. I've cried more over this than I've cried at most funerals. I don't know what else to say. I just know that it's another reminder that we shouldn't hold any person in high esteem, because they will almost always let you down. I am say the least.

But most of all, I am disappointed in myself. For what I wish I was, how wise I think I should be, how strong I need to be...but on many occasions, I'm not. I know I have disappointed people, and I'm sorry, and I want to be a better person. I hang on to hope that someday I will find the wisdom and ability to be exactly who I was created to be. Only by the grace of God I live and breathe, and I give Him my heart in pieces...and trust that He will continue to hold me up, help me stand, and put those pieces back together again.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand." Isaiah 41:10

Life is full of disappointment...sometimes it seems like an endless supply. But I count my blessings in spite of all of the above, what is, and what is to come. When I am upset, angry, disappointed...God understands. He never said life would be easy...He just said it would be worth it.

If you are going through an especially difficult time as I am, I pray that God touches your heart and lets you know that He is still there. Even when we can't see Him, feel Him, or hear Him...that is when we just have to trust and believe that the valley we are walking through is just another bend in the road.

When we feel we have nothing left to give
And we are sure that the song has ended
When our day seems over and the shadows fall
And the darkness of night has descended.

Where can we go to find the strength
To valiantly keep on trying,
Where can we find the hand that will dry
The tears that the heart is crying.

There’s but one place to go and that is to God
And dropping all pretense and pride,
We can pour out our problems without restraint
And gain strength from Him at our side.

And together we stand at life’s crossroads
And view what we think is the end
But God has a much bigger vision
And He tells us it’s only a bend.

For the road goes on and is smoother
And the pause in the song is a rest
And the part that’s unsung and unfinished
Is the sweetest and richest and best.

So rest and relax and grow stronger
Let go and let God share your load
Your work is not finished or ended,
You’ve just come to a bend in the road.