The Emotional Whiplash of Dreams

For almost thirty years I’ve lived with FSHD. That feels surreal. I only became a permanent wheelchair user in 2020, long after the diagnosis, falls, and stubborn years of refusing to give in, but in many ways, I’ve lived two lives: the one before using a wheelchair, and the one after.  

Yet, my mind hasn’t accepted that fully.

A Lent Study 2026: Week 6 – Restore

“I will restore to you the years that the locust has eaten.” (Joel 2:25)  

“He restores my soul.” (Psalm 23:3)  

“He must remain in heaven until the time comes for God to restore everything.” (Acts 3:21)

The Bible treats restoration as a deep, covenant act of God. In the Old Testament, several words gather around this idea. The verb shuv—to turn, return, come back—describes God restoring His people as they return to Him, something we explored in repentance. Another word, chadash, means to make new, renew, or repair. When God promises, “I will restore the fortunes of my people” (Jeremiah 30:3), it is not simply about land or wealth; it is about relationship, identity, and hope being put back together.

The Many Faces of Ableism and Institutional Harm

My relationship with church began long before becoming a Christian in 2008, tangled in family history, generational hurt, mixed denominational arguments, and unspoken wounds. Growing up, “church” was a bad word—faith and religion divided families, caused problems, and left scars. Yet, as a child with emerging health issues and a shortened life expectancy, I prayed quietly, hid my faith, read the little school‑supplied New Testament, and felt God’s presence long before I voiced it.

However, every time I stepped into a church, I was pushed out.