Finding Blessings in the Chaos

Holding Onto My Faith By My Fingertips

My last post in this space was about my word of the year — Abide. And boy, have I had to do just that. We are only 27 days into 2026, and already I’ve leaned on that word more than I ever have with a word of the year in the past.

I thought 2025 was a roller coaster of a year, but in hindsight, I see now that it was really just the initial climb. We are now fully in the fall.

If you’ve read any of my previous posts (and if you haven’t, please do), you know that for the past few years I’ve been going through a process of deconstructing my faith. Recently, I heard someone use the term reconstructing, and that feels much more aligned with where I actually am.

Deconstruction, for many, seems to mean a total loss of faith. As I’ve said before, that’s not where I am. Reconstructing feels more like tearing everything down and rebuilding it brick by brick.

To be fully honest, what already felt like a tenuous hold on my faith now feels even more strained in light of everything that has happened in late 2025 and early 2026. Multiple hospital stays. Countless doctor’s visits. Finally transitioning into at-home dialysis for my husband. Our ability to travel now truly limited. Work being busy while trying not to miss time but still burning through all available PTO. And the abhorrent actions of our nation’s government — their modern-day gestapo tactics — along with people both related and unrelated who support these things, causing deep confusion, heartbreak, and anger within me.

All of it has left me with a fingertip grip on my faith.

I’ve been digging those fingers in deep, trying to hold on — being intentional about the amount and type of media I consume, intentional with my time, starting my mornings in the Bible and in prayer, and leaning into the resources that have helped ground me most in this season (more on those in another post).

I felt moved to write this when, during quiet time this morning, I reflected on today’s reading from my 52-Week Bible Study and felt a nudge to remember the blessings that have also occurred over the past two months.

People talk about hearing God speak to them or feeling God move them. While I don’t know that I’ve ever experienced that in a clear or literal way, over many years I’ve developed a strong sense of intuition — an ability to listen to my gut — that I believe are the stirrings of the Spirit and nudges from God.

Over the past few days, I’ve felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. And that feels strange to say given how terrible some things have been lately. But I truly believe that if we don’t take moments to acknowledge the good, we risk losing ourselves entirely to anger and bitterness — and that only allows the bad guys to win.

Anyone who knows me knows my love of Disney and understands the nostalgia and comfort I find in anything Disney-related. Over the past eight or nine years, I’ve been incredibly fortunate to become part of a large but close-knit Disney community through Lou Mongello and the WDW Radio Community. The motto of that community is “Choose the Good,” a phrase Lou coined that many of us believe embodies what Walt himself would have done.

That is what I am trying to live and embody in this season: choosing the good each day. Lately, that has meant leaning into those nudges toward gratitude.

Those nudges have put me in a reflective mood and brought me here to share some of that with you.

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God Moves Even When We Doubt

One of the hardest parts of last year was when my grandfather was diagnosed (again) with cancer and told he would need to begin treatment. It brought fear and uncertainty to our large extended family and became a focal point of the year.

It’s one thing to have a sick family member when you live across the country. It’s another when you’re also a full-time caregiver to your husband, mostly unable to travel, with everything else in life up in the air — especially during an uncertain and frightening political climate.

I watched family members travel to Florida to visit and help care for him. I also had conversations that added pressure to get there myself, particularly in worst-case-scenario discussions.

Around June or July, I added a prayer to my list: that God would somehow get us to Florida. I prayed it repeatedly for months — my heart full of doubt, believing it would never happen, especially as Nick’s health declined later in the year.

“God, please let us get to Florida to see him.”

Even as experimental treatments began to work and the mass started to shrink (thank God), the urgency remained. Each prayer carried more pressure, more doubt.

There were so many reasons it felt impossible: work responsibilities, trying to preserve PTO in case of transplant, travel for testing in Arizona, two dogs needing care, financial uncertainty, Nick’s declining health, the worsening political climate — and more.

Then, in late November, during a routine doctor’s appointment, we learned Nick would need to start dialysis in the new year. Almost as an aside, his nephrologist said, “If you’re going to do any traveling, do it now while it’s easier.”

Nick and I looked at each other and immediately knew.

What I had prayed for over months suddenly became possible — almost effortlessly. In one appointment, one passing comment, all the obstacles seemed to fade.

I wish I could say I immediately felt overwhelming gratitude. I didn’t.

It wasn’t until hours later, standing in the shower, that it hit me: Holy shit. This is what I’ve been praying for.

And I realized it wasn’t coincidence or karma or the universe aligning — it was an answered prayer. One I never fully trusted God to answer.

I cried in that shower, overwhelmed with relief and gratitude, and I’m not ashamed of that.

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Answered Prayers That Don’t Look Like What You Expected

That Florida trip answered two prayers at once. I was able to see my grandparents, and Nick and I were also able to take what we knew might be our last Disney trip before dialysis began.

We initially considered taking Brightline to Orlando, but Nick’s health was already declining, and we knew he didn’t have the stamina a Disney World trip requires. So we chose a Disney cruise instead.

The first half of the trip was everything I had prayed for. My grandfather — still strong, spirited, and full of love. My grandmother — funny, feisty, and praying over Nick while teasing him, as only she can.

We spent time with family we hadn’t seen in years, met the newest addition to the family, and I visited my dad’s grave for the first time in years — and for the first time with Nick, my grandparents, and extended family. Hearing my grandparents pray the Our Father over my father’s grave is something I will carry with me always.

And yes — the food was incredible.

That portion of the trip solidified my desire to someday return to central Florida.

The second half of the trip, while still a blessing I can hardly believe we experienced, wasn’t what we’d hoped. The weather was windy, wet, and cloudy. The ship was rockier than expected. Repeating the same itinerary we’d done before wasn’t ideal.

More importantly, Nick’s health quietly worsened during that trip. He slept through much of it.

Even when it didn’t look how we expected, it was still a gift.

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Positives Even Among Health Scares

Less than a week after returning, Nick was hospitalized — and again a month later — for a combined total of twelve days.

There was fear and frustration, but hindsight truly is 20/20. Even now, I can see the blessings.

In 2024, his last hospitalization lasted twelve straight days and ended in the ICU with double pneumonia and a rare fungal infection.

This time, we knew what we were facing. We knew dialysis was the root issue.

The second stay could have been avoided if medical professionals listened better — especially to patients like Nick, who have lived with chronic illness their entire lives. But even there, I find gratitude.

If the worst outcome is a blood transfusion, I’ll take it.

His transition to PD dialysis has been rough. His body hasn’t adjusted easily, but we’re grateful it’s an option — that it can be done at home and doesn’t require fistulas.

We know the only way out is through. One day at a time.

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Small Measures of Reconciliation

I’ll praise in the valley
Praise on the mountain
I’ll praise when I’m sure
And praise when I’m doubting

Those lyrics from Brandon Lake’s song Praise have always stayed with me. They remind me I’m not alone in doubt — and that doubt doesn’t negate faith.

I also think often about the line from The Santa Clause: “Seeing isn’t believing. Believing is seeing.”

I don’t need to physically see God to know He’s at work.

Over the past several months, God has shown me again and again that He works miracles — even through doubt.

In September 2025, deep political, religious, and value-based differences with certain family members came to a head in a public and painful way. I saw no path to reconciliation and distanced myself, reminding myself that others’ opinions don’t define me — especially when rooted in hate or false religion.

Even so, blessings emerged. I learned who truly had my back.

As the holidays approached, I felt that familiar nudge. I didn’t want to miss them. I remembered something our pastor once said: “You can’t change someone’s heart — only God can.”

So my prayers shifted. I prayed not for full restoration, but for a small measure of reconciliation — an apology, a hint of remorse.

I prayed with doubt.

And yet, days before Thanksgiving, I received a sincere apology text.

It didn’t fix everything. But it was far more than I expected.

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A Place of Understanding

Another blessing has been my job — working for a small hospice nonprofit with a deeply understanding boss.

After twelve years in corporate HR, where people are numbers and illness is an inconvenience, this has been life-changing.

I was honest during my interview about Nick’s illness and my role as his caregiver. My director responded with compassion, flexibility, and intentional support — even making my position salaried to allow greater flexibility.

Since Nick’s health declined, she has been present, supportive, and accommodating in ways I never imagined.

Any guilt I feel comes from my own internal pressure — not from her.

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Life in this season is far from perfect. Many days involve frustration and tears.

But I am determined to live with gratitude rather than resentment.

I am learning to look for what is good, take moments for myself, keep doing the things I love, and hold tightly to small joys.

And above all — to abide.