This past year has been a crucible of transformation—a journey of profound growth, unexpected challenges, and deep spiritual surrender. As I reflect on the path we've walked, particularly through Tim's PNES diagnosis and the subsequent challenges, I realize that surrender is not about weakness, but about finding strength in something greater than ourselves.
"All to Jesus I surrender"—these words have become more than just lyrics; they've become my daily prayer, my moment-by-moment commitment. Surrender isn't a single act but a continuous choice. In the face of medical uncertainty, financial stress, and emotional exhaustion, I've learned that true surrender means releasing my grip on control and trusting in a plan larger than my understanding.
When Tim's PNES diagnosis turned our world upside down, I could have easily become bitter or defeated. Instead, I chose to see this as a sacred invitation to deeper faith. "Worldly pleasures all forsaken" took on new meaning. The things I once thought were important—professional success, perfect plans, societal expectations—began to pale in comparison to our journey of healing and love.
"Humbly at His feet I bow" has been my posture of healing. Humility isn't about diminishing myself but about recognizing that I don't have to carry every burden alone. In moments of overwhelming stress, when the medical system seemed indifferent and our path unclear, bowing meant acknowledging my limitations and opening myself to divine guidance.
"In His presence daily live" has become my survival strategy. Each day with PNES is unpredictable. Some days are filled with seizures and uncertainty; others bring small victories and hope. By choosing to live in a space of spiritual presence, I've found peace that transcends our circumstances.
"I will ever love and trust Him"—these words are not just a declaration of faith but a conscious choice. Loving and trusting doesn't mean our path is easy; it means finding beauty and purpose even in our most challenging moments. Our journey with PNES has taught me that trust is not about understanding everything but about believing in hope when logic fails.
Surrender, I've learned, is not passive resignation. It's an active, courageous choice to release my need for control, trust in a bigger picture, find strength in vulnerability, believe in healing even when it looks different than I imagined, love unconditionally, and see challenges as opportunities for growth.
"Take me, Jesus, take me now"—this final line is my daily commitment. It's a prayer that says, "I am here, fully present, ready to be used, transformed, and guided." It's an invitation to divine intervention in our most intimate struggles.
This year has been about more than surviving PNES; it's been about thriving in spite of it. It's been about finding light in darkness, strength in vulnerability, and hope in uncertainty.
To anyone walking a similar path, know this: surrender is not about giving up; it's about rising up differently. It's about trusting that our most challenging moments can become our most profound opportunities for growth, love, and transformation.
All to Jesus, I surrender. And in that surrender, we find our truest strength.
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