Diving back into blogging. It’s been a long time. I’ve missed it so much, but somehow felt paralyzed on the logistics of how to move forward.

When I began this blog it was to record our of story battling Doose Syndrome. Back in 2012 the story felt like it BELONGED to ME! The parent of the patient. It was what my husband and I were doing to survive these horrendous new waters we had been dropped into. Being land animals we had little to experience how to navigate the deep waters were suddenly forces to survive in. Back then I blogged for 3 primary reasons 1. Record what was happening. 2. Have an easy to way to update multiple people at one time. 3. Hope to be light to others who find themselves thrust in life’s chaos-especially other epilepsy parents.

7 Years later I feel comfortable calling myself a seasoned swimmer. Still in the water, missing being a land animal, but nonetheless able to survive and even thrive in this habitat.

Part of this journey has included realizing that while it is MY story, the details of the illness and life belong primarily to our son. Becoming aware that he may not want every detail of life available for consumption in the same way I have chosen for myself.

So I’m back blogging-not sure what exactly what this will look like moving forward-but knowing I want to be a light, to call back to people who find themselves navigating choppy waters.


The following excerpt from: L. B. E. Cowman & Jim Reimann. “Streams in the Desert” has been the prayer of my heart for years. I am so thankful for all those before me who called back and I am seeking to do the same.

“If you have gone a little way ahead of me, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the stony track;
And if, perhaps, Faith’s light is dim, because the oil is low,
Your call will guide my lagging course as wearily I go.
Call back, and tell me that He went with you into the storm;
Call back, and say He kept you when the forest’s roots were torn;
That, when the heavens thunder and the earthquake shook the hill,
He bore you up and held you where the lofty air was still.
O friend, call back, and tell me for I cannot see your face;
They say it glows with triumph, and your feet sprint in the race;
But there are mists between us and my spirit eyes are dim,
And I cannot see the glory, though I long for word of Him.
But if you’ll say He heard you when your prayer was but a cry,
And if you’ll say He saw you through the night’s sin-darkened sky—
If you have gone a little way ahead, O friend, call back—
It will cheer my heart and help my feet along the way”

Excerpt From: L. B. E. Cowman & Jim Reimann. “Streams in the Desert.”