Tag: parenting through chronic illness

Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

New Beginnings: The End of One Chapter, the Start of Another

Brandi C

stay inspired. never stop creating. (5)

New beginnings.


They carry a quiet kind of hope—soft, steady, and full of promise. Today is the last day of June, and with it comes a shift. This is the final post I will write about our journey with Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome (OMS). It’s not the end of the story, but it is the closing of a long and winding chapter—one that has shaped us in more ways than I can count.

Eight years ago, our lives were forever changed when my son was diagnosed with OMS. Everything I thought I knew about parenting, about faith, about strength—was redefined in those early days of chaos and uncertainty. We were thrown into a world of specialists, treatments, therapies, and questions with no easy answers. But through it all, one thing remained constant: God’s faithfulness.

There were moments I didn’t think I could keep going. Moments of fear so deep, it took my breath away. But my son—my precious warrior—kept fighting. And because he never gave up, neither did I.

Today, he is alive. That alone is a miracle and testimony to God’s mercy and power. He still has struggles, and we don’t know what his future holds. But we rest in this truth:

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a future and a hope.”
—Jeremiah 29:11

We cling to that promise. God has a plan for my son—a plan far greater than anything we could imagine. And so we move forward with hope.

I pray that as you’ve read these posts, you’ve learned something new—not just about OMS, but about compassion. If you ever see a parent struggling with a child’s behavior, please pause before judging. You never know the battles being fought behind tired eyes and brave smiles. Offer grace. Show kindness. Pray for them.

I also pray you’ve seen my heart through this journey. God’s goodness broke and rebuilt my heart. A heart that never stopped hoping—even when the world said there was none.

“Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for He who promised is faithful.”
—Hebrews 10:23

My son is more than a diagnosis. He is a living, breathing miracle. A warrior. And one day, I believe his test will become a powerful TESTimony—pointing others straight to Jesus.

This is not the end. It’s just the beginning of something new. A new chapter filled with purpose, promise, and hope.

To God be the glory. Always.

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

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Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

Did You Even Know You Were Looking at a Miracle?

Brandi C

Did You Even Know You Were Looking at a Miracle?

“Did you even know that you were looking at a miracle?”

That question caught me completely off guard. It came from a gentleman sitting nearby in the waiting room of our chiropractor’s office, and it landed in my ears like a divine interruption. Amid my self-imposed chaos, his words cut straight to my heart.

I sat there stunned, mouth slightly open, tears streaming down my cheeks.

Not exactly how I had planned my Tuesday morning chiropractic visit.

But God.

Earlier that morning, I was knee-deep in what I call C.H.A.O.S.—Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome. I couldn’t even remember who was supposed to go to the chiropractor, so I just loaded up the whole crew. Some days are just like that. And Tuesday was definitely one of those days.

As we filtered into the office, we were immediately recognized. No introductions needed. H knows the ropes and has all the staff wrapped around his little finger. He did his usual “hello? excuse me? lady?” routine, and Whitney—who adores him—popped around the corner and scooped him up with a big smile.

Before taking him back for his “office work,” she asked if she could introduce him to the woman behind me—her mom. As always, H was syrupy sweet, charming her with his innocence and bright spirit.

Then came the man.

The office is small and shared with another doctor. Since my kids had already claimed one corner, I sat on the opposite side, next to an older couple—probably in their late 60s or early 70s. The man leaned around his wife, looked directly at me, and smiled. His eyes were kind, deep, and piercing.

He said, “Did you know that boy of yours is a walking miracle?”

I choked back tears and managed to whisper, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

He asked H’s name, and when I told him, he promised to begin praying for him right then and there.

What stunned me most was that he didn’t know a single thing about us—not H’s health, not our family story, nothing. He hadn’t even seen H walk. Whitney had carried him back before the man saw him do anything. I briefly shared a 30-second summary of H’s medical journey, and tears welled in the man’s eyes.

He looked at me and said, “Well, I thought he was a miracle before… now I know he is. God spoke to me about him. Did you know that God is still a miracle maker? He’s alive and well and surrounding us every day.”

“Yes,” I said, voice shaking, “I know that.”

And just like that, peace settled into the chaos. For a few minutes, we chatted. His words calmed the storm in my spirit. My soul exhaled.

As I stepped up to the front desk, H had spotted some food he couldn’t eat because of his gluten allergy. While I gently comforted him, I overheard the man talking to D. Without hesitation, he was sharing the Gospel. He asked D direct, honest questions about his faith, his walk with Jesus, and his relationship with God.

I didn’t interrupt. Honestly, I stood there, witnessing the Holy Spirit move through this complete stranger with power and gentleness.

I don’t know his name. I don’t know which doctor he came to see or where he’s from. But I know he was sent—for me, for us.

God knew I needed that moment to hush the noise of my worry. He knew my tired heart needed the reminder that H is a miracle. And He knew that someone would come to speak truth, light, and hope when I least expected it.

God is good. All the time. And all the time, God is good.

💛 If you’re navigating life’s hard places and need a safe space to heal, grow, or just breathe—Circle of Hope Counseling Services is here for you.

We offer trauma-informed, faith-filled therapy for individuals, couples, and families.

📞 Reach out today to schedule your first session (KY residents only) or learn more: Circle of Hope Counseling Services.

You don’t have to walk this journey alone. Hope starts here.

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Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

The Day He Ran – Our Beach Miracle

Brandi C

The Day He Ran – Our Beach Miracle

I can still feel the sand under my feet and I can still remember The Day He Ran – Our Beach Miracle.

The sun was setting, the breeze was just right, and we were finally on a family vacation, sort of, after what felt like a lifetime in hospitals.

H sat on a blanket, watching the waves, surrounded by siblings and snacks.

He hadn’t walked unassisted in almost a year.

We brought his wagon to the beach to help transport him around. We expected him to stay seated.

But then…

He Stood

After much sitting and playtime in the sand and the water. I quickly carried him up the beach, at dusk, and sat him on a beach towel. He was all snuggled up as the sun was setting and I was getting a few quick videos and pictures.

Then.

He stood.

And not just stood.

He ran.

Across the sand, toward the ocean—his body moving like it remembered how, even though it shouldn’t have. I stood in holy awe as my child, who had to relearn everything, ran straight into the water like he’d never been sick.

It wasn’t just steps. It was a miracle.

“Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed…”
— Romans 4:18

No One Can Tell Me Otherwise

Doctors can say what they want.
Science can shrug.
But I know what I saw.

I saw God.

That day, I saw healing in motion.

I saw the fire in his eyes, the joy in his shout, the water splash around his feet.

In that moment, I saw the moment heaven touched earth for my son.

💛 Heartbeat Moment

We still face hard days. Flare-ups. Setbacks. Fears.

But that moment reminds me what’s possible.
God doesn’t always heal the way we ask—but sometimes?
Sometimes He does.

And I’ll never stop praising Him for the day my boy ran into the ocean.

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