The first time, I was in my 30s. Jesus was my Savior. Fear and depression were my dictators. Excruciating pain and hopelessness lived within me continuously. Survival would be a generous description of my ability to live.
Defeat’s ugly tentacles encircled my soul and squeezed what life remained.
Conceding Defeat’s victory, I went to bed…for 2.5 years. There was no point in expecting a good future, nor was there any strength to face the present reality.
I was broken.
Then God flexed His muscle, and everything changed.
December 2021, Satan tried a second time – with COVID.
He was out for my life. 55 days with a ventilator acting as my lungs, 7 minutes without a heartbeat, I was reminded of what I was unable to do on my own. And once again, I was broken.
Through it all, the Holy Spirit had hold of my hand, leading me to healing – body and soul – and teaching me how to breathe…again.
