Nearly 16 years ago, at the age of nine, I became ill with Lyme disease. It was a four to five year roller-coaster ride of doctors, tests, medications and constant “two steps forward and three back” scenarios.
My mom was with me through it all. She left her job to stay home and be my full-time caregiver during those years. For two years I was unable to walk, feed and care for myself in pretty much any way. My mom did whatever needed to help me survive. She got me up in the morning, made my meals, lifted me to and from my wheelchair, stretched out my muscles and much, much more.
She was the one who read verses to me to bring hope to my heart, prayed with me claiming healing, called friends to come over and bring joy to my heart, and pushed and encouraged me – even in tough love – to keep fighting and not give up.