Tag: trauma-informed Christian care

Faith Journey, Medical, Opsoclonus Myoclonus Syndrome

With Every Joy, In Every Hope

Brandi C

With Every Joy, In Every Hope

This journey with OMS has brought me to my knees more times than I can count. It has stretched me, refined me, broken me open—and built something stronger in its place. However, With Every Joy, In Every Hope there is Jesus.

There have been days filled with fear. With doubt. With exhaustion that sank into my bones.
But there have also been days of joy.
Joy that surprised me. Joy that snuck in quietly and wrapped itself around the hardest moments.

And that’s what I’ve learned: joy and hope can live alongside pain.
They’re not emotions reserved for the easy days.
They are gifts from God, woven right into the messy middle of the story.

With every joy—in every smile, every step forward, every laugh that returned after weeks of silence—I saw God’s fingerprints.
With every hope—in every prayer whispered through tears, in every night I chose to believe again—I saw God’s faithfulness.

This journey hasn’t been linear. Healing rarely is.
There were setbacks, victories, and there were days I felt like giving up.
And then there were days when I couldn’t help but praise—because of the progress, because of the peace, because God had carried us one more step forward.

With every joy, in every hope, God was there.
Not one moment missed, not one tear wasted, and Not one prayer unheard.

And maybe you’re in a hard season of your own—maybe your story doesn’t look like mine, but your heart still needs to know:
Joy is still possible. Hope is still alive.
Not because of the outcome, but because of Who walks with you.

💛 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

Dear Special Needs Mama

Brandi C

Dear Special Needs Mama

Dear Special Needs Mama – A Letter from the Fire

Dear Special Needs Mama,

I don’t know your name, but I know your heart.
When I look at you, I see the bags under your eyes and the fear behind your smile.
I hear the weight in your silence when someone asks, “How are you?”

I’ve been there.

Maybe you’re still in the ER. Still waiting for someone to say something—anything—that makes sense.
Honestly, maybe you’re deep into the battle and just need someone to tell you you’re not crazy.
Maybe you’re watching your child suffer and wondering if you have what it takes to keep going.

You do.

You’re Not Failing

Remember, you’re navigating a world most people can’t even imagine.
You’re balancing meds, therapy, paperwork, appointments, insurance, and everyone else’s expectations.

You’re not weak.
My friend, you’re a warrior.

It’s Okay to Cry

You don’t have to hold it together all the time.
And you don’t have to explain everything to everyone.
You’re allowed to feel overwhelmed.

But don’t forget—you’re also allowed to feel joy.
Even here. Even now.

“God is within her, she will not fall; God will help her at break of day.”
— Psalm 46:5

From Me to You

If no one has told you lately:

I’m proud of you.
You are not invisible.
And you are not alone.

You are doing holy work.
And even on the days that break you…
You are still enough.

With love,
A mama in the trenches
Who believes in miracles
And still cries in her car while drinking coke lots sometimes

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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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