My Journey

From Survival to Stewardship

Watch: Journey Back to Walking (YouTube)

One neurologist, after barely glancing at me, saw only a busy homeschooling mom of four on paper and concluded it was all stress — just stress — offering nothing but a referral for counseling. That woke up my stubborn streak (my "determination gene," as I call it). I stood my ground, polite but unmovable. Deep down, I knew my body, and I knew something real was hiding. I was also determined not to let it run my life. I believe God made me stubborn for a reason. My training in Respiratory Therapy at the Mayo Clinic, my logical, problem-solving brain, and my steady faith in God's design all shaped how I saw my body: not just as a collection of symptoms, but as a marvel of careful engineering. I knew how things ought to work. And I knew, deep down, this wasn't all in my head.

Then one day, in late December of 2002, as I hopped out of bed in the morning, I went down in a heap…my legs had no strength. My instincts had been spot-on, and the monster roared. The real trouble was buried where no one could see — tucked inside the narrow walls of my cervical spinal canal, which, as it turned out, was much smaller than it should have been. None of the doctors caught it; no test flagged the warning. But year after year, the normal spinal degeneration that starts generally in our twenties began pressing against my spinal cord, causing slow but steady, growing damage to the nerves while I kept juggling life — raising kids, running a household, and serving God as He called.

After my first spine surgery in January 2003, to relieve the pressure on my spinal cord, I finally received my diagnosis: C5/6 Quadriplegia due to Cervical Myelopathy from advanced spinal stenosis. My body then went through years of ongoing physical decline. I switched between manual and power wheelchairs, seeing the world from a new perspective while dealing with constant medical challenges and more than a dozen major surgeries.

Even before I needed a wheelchair myself, God was preparing me. Just before my injury, I had been helping a woman with Cerebral Palsy who used a wheelchair. She used to call me her gift from God. Looking back, I see that she was actually a gift from God to me. Her life exposed me to the grueling reality of being in a wheelchair, a stark preview of the exact road I would soon have to walk myself. This experience was instrumental in my decision that I would never let my disability define who I am.

Another hurdle showed up in 2015. A second surgery that year relieved additional compression from the spinal stenosis. Unfortunately, the damage it left behind surfaced as severe gastroparesis, or stomach paralysis, in 2018, leaving my stomach unable to work for long stretches. Ironically, just months before, I had told one of my providers that my goal for the year was to learn how to ask for help. Suddenly, I was forced to depend completely on others, confined to bed, and needing caregivers for even my most basic needs. After several feeding tubes, I ended up relying on one for over a year. For more than 365 days, I did not eat any real food. At the end of that difficult year, as the medical team prepared to remove the tube, they gave me the ultimatum that changed everything for me: live with a feeding tube for the rest of my life, or eat only highly processed, bland, imitation food.

But this time, I felt a strong resistance inside me. I believe it was the Holy Spirit guiding me. The thought of eating only dead, man-made, ultra-processed food for the rest of my life just felt wrong. I did not have a professional term for what I wanted, but in my heart, I called it "eating to the earth" — choosing the living food that God made. My medical training told me my body needed real, whole nutrients, not synthetic formulas. As soon as the tube was out, I ignored the processed-food recommendations and started eating whole salads, leafy greens, and clean proteins. That was the start of my healing.

About a year into my new eating journey, I was prescribed a motorized exoskeleton. When I first buckled into the device, it wasn't a glamorous or effortless transition. It required steady mental stamina, physical focus, and hours of repetitive practice. In the beginning, I could not even move my feet on my own. Yet, through daily discipline at home and taking step after step, I went from relying entirely on that motorized device to walking completely independently within just six months.

People often admire the science behind exoskeletons, and the science behind them is truly impressive, but in reality, patients do not just walk out of them, especially not in six months. Looking back on my own experience, I know it was not just science at work. It was a physical miracle from God. My success did not start the day I stood up; the real victory, joy, and strength were already present while I was still in the chair, because my strength came from the Lord!

Being able to walk again put my life on an entirely new trajectory. As I became more active, I lost weight, got fit, and started to really thrive. At my heaviest, when I was using a power chair, I weighed almost 190 pounds, though I was usually around 150 pounds for most of those years. Now, I weigh 116 pounds at 5′2″, which is exactly what I weighed in high school. I have more energy now than I did in my twenties.

That miracle changed everything about how I saw my body. I stopped just surviving and started stewarding — caring for this gift from God instead of merely getting through the day.

That hunger to honor God with my body sent me searching, only to find research that often contradicted itself. Then I ran across a video by Annette Reeder, The Biblical Nutritionist, who put into words what I had been striving to do. My own phrase, “eating to the earth,” had a better name: “Eating God's good foods.” It was the first approach to food that brought peace instead of more rules to follow.

Before that, I was the pickiest, blandest eater alive — no peppers, no spice, and years of bland meals my husband Mark patiently cooked for me. The moment I started eating God's real food, my taste buds woke up overnight, prompting Mark to frequently joke, "Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" And now? I've yet to find one of God's good foods that I don't like, and I suspect I never will!

I am still learning how to care for the body God gave me — I think that will take a lifetime. As a homeschooling mom of four, I already had a foundation for healthy living, but after my second spinal surgery in 2015, that season closed, and much of it had to wait while I dealt with my medical complications. I am learning that God's grace and His promise of wisdom when I ask Him for it, help me grow a little more each day.

Movement is part of that growth. Here in Minnesota, winter mornings keep me inside, so I lean on my rowing machine; when the sun returns, Mark and I ride our bikes, setting season-long goals to keep us going. Moving stops the mental noise and resets something in me — nutrition and movement have always gone hand in hand in this journey. Along with activity, I've reclaimed the beautiful gift of rest that God blessed us with — often reaching my 8-hour sleeping goal at night. What a stark contrast to the prior years of restless sleep filled with pain and spasticity, requiring muscle relaxants to get even the smallest amount of sleep.

Recently, while reading an online article, I came across this verse in Matthew, from The Message, a Bible I don't normally read, that just jumped out at me!

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me, and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me, and you'll learn to live freely and lightly."

— Matthew 11:28–30

Walking hand in hand with Jesus, health is no longer a heavy burden — it becomes that unforced rhythm of grace. My daily rhythm isn't a rigid set of rules; it's just a guide, and focused on letting God lead. We can each find a flow that fits our home and season of life, honoring God as we care for the temple he knit together so long ago.

I served Him from a wheelchair for 21 years, and I know I can praise Him from a bed of suffering. But He delivered me from that chair, and I refuse to look at my Creator and say, "I am too tired or too sick from the food I chose to eat to do what you are calling me to do." As always, God knows my heart and always reveals the next steps for me.

Most people assume eating this way takes far more work than it actually does. It is more work — I won't pretend otherwise — but nowhere near as much as people think. Really, it comes down to a stark question: Have we filled our lives with secular distractions that we consider more important than serving our Creator? For me, it was never that my health didn't matter — it was realizing why it mattered: to honor and serve Him. Once that became clear, I found the time, and God provided a way every time my heart was willing to yield.

Simply put, I'm a woman who loves God and His Word — enough to keep digging into what He says about caring for the body He gave back to me. My hope is to share whatever I learn along the way! Whether it helps someone come to know God for the first time or helps a fellow believer grow in biblical wellness, I'll count it a gift either way.