What a Difference a Year Makes

This is an icon of the Harrowing of Hell, but it might as well be a picture of my Lord and Savior reaching down and pulling me out of 2017 with a mighty heave. It was a terrifying and painful experience. But it was salvific.

Last year I was up early, traveling to Kansas City for my first cycle of AIM. I was too nervous to eat anything.

This year I am waking up late to the smell of coffee. Homemade biscuits and gravy are waiting for me.

Last year, I had a Hickman line in my chest. I couldn’t dress, shower, hold my children or even sweat without worry.


This year, I take long showers and wrestle with the kids on the floor.

Last year, I was exhausted, postpartum and paralyzed with fear.

This year, I sprinted across my backyard until my sides hurt, playing with my daughter.

Last year, I poisoned my body to save my life.

This year, I am living life to the fullest.

Last year, I felt the Cross.

This year, I feel the Resurrection.

It’s still Easter.



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