My story is mine. And yours is yours. As believers, we are called to walk in God’s ways. We are called to trust Him and what He has for us. There are good days and bad days, or even years. And God equips us for all of them. But we have to do our part, as far as it depends on us.
For as long as I can remember, I have been a storyteller. But not made up stories. My life has provided plenty. I have always been able to retell events, that happened in my real life, to make people laugh until they cry. For those of you that are in my daily life you have no doubt heard the epic “mom fail/Caleb eye drop story” (shout out to Bridgette! That’s her fav Cindy story). Or the “girl in the red vest story” (shout out to John and Brittany!). And when I tell a funny story, I am ALL in. I often stand up so that I can use my arms AND legs.
By some people’s standards, I have been through some hard things. I have been honored to share those things as well. God has grown me so much through trials. And it’s not over. I am here and so are you. That means the good Lord is not done with us yet.
I have had so many opportunities to share bits and pieces of my story through divine appointments. From handcraft classes in the Dominican Republic to the checkout at the grocery store. Sunshine-Soldier has also provided a unique avenue for sharing what the Lord has done in my heart and life and family.
And now it’s time for a different platform. The podcast. I know there are a zillion. And I have no interest in competing. My hearts desire is for those who would be encouraged by it to listen. No pressure whatsoever. ☀️
It’s funny what triggers memories. And those memories were inside of seasons. We have all been through so many and there will be so many more. I’m so thankful for the Lord and His saving grace. I am so thankful for his patience. I am so thankful that He is always with me. I am never alone. I am never abandoned. Isolation is always a choice.
When Caleb was a baby, so many hard things were happening. I couldn’t seem to process any of it. Looking back at that season, I feel so sorry for myself. I was so ill-equipped. So isolated. And I was the author of my own demise.
Obviously, my circumstances were hard. It’s understandable that they felt hard. But God equips us for the hard. For the trials. He promises that in His word. And he never ever breaks his promises. He tells us that in His word too.
God does such a work in our hearts to lead us to salvation. Then he continues to work in our hearts through the Holy Spirit, through His word, through prayer, through other believers. So that we can be more like Jesus. But we have to do our part. As far as it depends on us.
In those early Caleb years, I prayed. But only for my own way. I never prayed that the Lord would do a work in me. I never prayed that He would use my circumstances for His glory. I prayed for a sign. I prayed that God would heal Caleb so that he could have the life that I knew he deserved.
I had relationships. But they were not deep. I was not asking for wisdom or accountability. I just wanted people to tell me that it would all work out. That I would get my way.
For those of you who know our family and Caleb, I know you are rejoicing with me. That I did not get my way. The Lord knew. He always did. Since the very beginning of time.
Caleb and Collin doing “the 3-legged race”. Some might say they had a slight advantage. 🥰
Lately, parenting feels really hard. All of these little souls are looking to me for guidance and direction. And love. Sometimes it just feels so much more complicated than that. Especially with the world going crazy.
I want to protect them. I want to protect their minds and their hearts. I want to protect them from foolish choices with lifelong consequences.
I want them to be happy and healthy. I want them to have a deep relationship with the Lord. I want them to have thriving relationships with friends and family.
It all just feels so heavy. Ryan and I are preparing them for the world.
Then there is Caleb. He is in a totally separate category. In all the ways.
Admittedly, there are things about parenting Caleb that are hard, even exhausting at times. I definitely won’t go into all the details, but his physical care is a whole lot. Also, medically, there is a constant battle. The ball always seems to be in my court, no matter how many times I rally.
But then there is Caleb as a person. And he is not heavy at all. In fact, he is light as a feather. He is so sweet and so happy. When he is having a hard time, which is rare, I can talk him down or up so easily. He trusts me completely. He is so thankful for everything we do for him. And he notices it all.
I am so thankful for this special boy. He brings me so much joy. And I am so happy to share him, so that he can spread it like wildfire.
We never ever know what any day will bring. What God will have for us.
Father’s Day 2022 Silas was just beginning to walk again after the accident. He needed Ryan every step of the way. Ryan was so there for it. He never left Si’s side.
This year, we have a beautiful day. A perfect day by my definition. Ryan is being pampered by all of us. And he is so there for that too.
I am so thankful for Ryan. Being a husband and a father is an enormous responsibility. He is to love his wife more than Christ loves the church. That’s unfathomable. He is to love his children and train them in the way they should go. He is to be an example of loving sacrifice to them. Day by day. Ryan takes all of this so seriously. He is striving every single day. And we love him so much for it! We are so thankful for God’s provision of fathers.
When Silas was in the ICU, I felt something so foreign to me. All-consuming sadness. My heart was breaking. It was relentless. I remember feeling that I couldn’t stand to be sad for 1 second longer. But there was no way out. There was no end in sight.
People did all the things. They did what they knew to do. They did what they could do. They did what they would have wanted done if they were in my shoes.
And I am so thankful. I felt all that love. I felt the genuineness behind it.
People also said all the things. They shared their personal experiences. They offered encouragement. They shared scripture. And that is the only thing that provided any real comfort. Because only God knew. Only he knew what would happen. Only he knew our pain. Only He loved Silas as much as as we did. Well, more to be exact.
On Sunday, our pastor reached out and asked us to pray for a little girl named Lucy Morgan. She was a friend of a friend’s daughter. A fairly loose connection. But our pastor was burdened for her. And he knew we would be too.
He was right.
Lucy was in a freak accident while her family was on vacation in Maine. She sustained a traumatic brain injury. There was a helicopter and ICU and a brain drain. All very familiar to our family.
We have prayed and we have prayed. I woke up in the night praying for this sweet little girl. For her mom and dad and siblings.
Lucy went home to be with Jesus this morning. I am so very happy for her. I am devastated for her family and friends. And there are many.
Please pray for the Morgan family. Her dad has shared quite a bit on his blog. But most importantly, he shared gospel truth.
It’s been 2 years. 731 days. And I’m still processing. We all are.
Silas is alive that’s for sure. In fact, he is thriving. His relationships are deep. With the Lord, with his family, with his friends. He just finished his sophomore year of high school. He has his drivers license and a car. He loves the freedom that comes with that and so do I! The other day he said, “Mom, I need some index cards for school.” I was like, “Fabulous. Go get you some.” He works at Chick Fil A. He is memorizing the book of Titus. He loves, I mean loves, to play games. Any game. His current favorite is “Five Crowns.” He also plays a lot of basketball and pickleball. Oh! And the piano!
We are so incredibly thankful for his life. And that he is Silas. Our amazing doctors warned us that he would likely be a very different boy if he did survive. Well, God simply had something else in mind. He is truly a living testimony of just what God can do. No matter how hopeless the circumstances.
Every single day I am so thankful to see our sweet Silas. When he comes out of his room in the morning, often having grown overnight, I am just so happy to see him. And he feels it too. We are just so thankful. He always gives me the sweetest hug as he towers over me. He is an absolute delight. And so hysterical. We are all so thrilled that didn’t change.
Our family is whole. And that, my friends, is a work of the Lord.
I can’t believe it has been almost 2 years since the accident. And there are so many others. Other trauma victims. Other moms and dads and family and friends of trauma victims. And don’t forget the grandparents. I have a sweet friend who comes alongside families at the end of life. She always says she feels sorriest for the grandparents. Because they are most ill-equipped for it. For outliving their grandchild of all things. For watching their child lose a child.
We did not lose Silas. And I am so thankful for that. Every single day.
Last week, Silas and I were so blessed to speak at an event honoring Si’s medical team. It was amazing. It was a dream come true. In my most hopeful moments just after the accident, I would envision just that. Us thanking them. For the incredible care. For being instruments in the Redeemer’s hands.
So many of you road the roller coaster/torture device with us after the accident. Thank you for caring so much and for praying. You were instruments as well.
Silas did an incredible job thanking his team. He was vulnerable and clear. He made sure that they understood that he understood just what they had done for him. It was so sweet. It was between him and them.
I would like to share my speech. Mostly because these people do not get enough credit. Or any at times…
“Hi. My name is Cindy. I am Silas’s mom. Silas is our second oldest child. Since birth, he has been a true joy and delight. I have always thought of him as easy. He slept through the night early, he didn’t cry much, he went through all the developmental stages just as he should, he made friends easily, he thrived in school. He is easy-going and kind. He is a helper. He is absolutely hysterical.
At just 14 years old, on May 31, 2022 something terrible happened to Silas. And my brain had no ability to process it. He had always been so easy you know.
That morning I had some young moms over with their littles to swim in our back yard swimming pool. That is a summer Tuesdays tradition at our house. I was in the pool myself. When I got out of the water at 12:15 to check my phone I had 18 missed phone calls from the same number. One I didn’t recognize. I also had missed a text from my friend Elizabeth. Her son was at camp with Silas. It said, “Call camp. There has been an accident.”
And that was the beginning of my nightmare. I had no ability to cope with this. With something bad happening to Silas. He had always been so easy you know.
I called camp. One of the camp directors answered the phone. She was crying. She immediately began telling me what had happened. My brain could not process what she was saying. I only understood bits and pieces. Silas had been hit in the head by a tree. Life star was there. He was unresponsive.
In the next hour, I did things. I don’t know how. I called close family to relay the news. I got childcare for my other 4 children. I put clothes on over my wet bathing suit. Ryan and I left the house and drove to the hospital. Not knowing that we would not be together as a family for 20 days.
When we arrived it was surreal. And we actually beat LifeStar. We were frustrated by that at first. Silas needed medical care. I have learned since then that he was getting excellent care while on that helicopter. Not only were they caring for him. They were investing in him.
Once Silas arrived at UT the trauma team assessed him. They brought us back to the trauma bay and we got to see him. It was surreal. He was unresponsive of course, but he looked good. We were encouraged. The trauma team was encouraged as well. They said that the initial scans looked good. The skull had done it’s job. It was cracked because it had taken the impact. The team told us that Silas would be moved to ICU while we waited for him to wake up.
In the ICU, our nurse was named Joely. I love this woman. She cared about Silas so much. She was immediately his advocate. His voice. She performed neurological assessments. Constantly. At first, I remember thinking it was a little much. I soon learned that she was doing that because she was very concerned. Actually, alarmed would probably be more accurate. But she did her best not to let me know that for as long as possible. She knew I was processing. Silas had always been easy you know.
Eventually, Joely saw the reality of Silas’s neurological situation. She went and got doctors and insisted on another CT scan. It came back and it was bad. Really bad.
Joely’s shift ended at 7 that night. I remember being so sad about that. Who else would take such excellent care of Silas. And of me. Joely assured me that our night nurses where the best of the best.
Enter Angela and Kendal. Angela was the lead and Kendal was in training. And boy did the good Lord know that we needed them. They were such a comfort. They were so kind and gentle with Silas. They were so patient with Ryan and I. Those ICU rooms are tiny. The 4 of us were climbing all over each other trying to support Silas. Each in our own way. At 10, they brought in a chair for me to sleep in while Ryan went to the waiting room. I talked to those ladies all through the night. They answered all of my questions. They listened to me talk about Silas and the incredible boy that he is. And they fell in love with him too. They checked on me all through that night right along with Silas.
After that first night, the events are more blurry. I remember a lot but not necessarily in chronological order. There are a lot of reasons for that. One, my processing was not up to speed. I couldn’t seem to wrap my mind around our circumstances. It had every characteristic of a nightmare. Surely I would wake up. There was no way this was really happening. Silas had always been so easy you know.
As the hours and days ticked by I had to accept the reality of the situation. Silas was so sick. It was very possible that he would not survive. It was very possible that if he did survive he would be a very different boy.
Our days in the ICU were so long and so hard. There were so many times that Silas was hanging on by a thread. His blood pressure was too high or too low. His ICP was trending up. He got pneumonia and the flu. He developed another brain bleed. It was so so so much.
People always ask me how I got through it. Without a doubt my Father in heaven got me through it. He never left our side. And as always, His provisions are perfect. He continually supplied the most amazing people.
So many stand out to me.
Dr. Funkhauser. Man he was burdened for Silas. And for Ryan and I. He had to deliver hard news to us on multiple occasions. I felt almost as bad for him as I did for us.
I remember Dr. Nicolas. He came by and checked on Silas a lot. He had a son the same age. He kept telling us how much he cared for Silas. He cried with us. Unbelievable.
I remember Dr. Savage. Oh how I love this woman. She was so so so protective of Silas. She was adamant that his brain was ok and that he just needed to rest. And I think there is some pretty good evidence that she was right. She was so patient with Ryan and I. Her explanations and drawings were exactly what we needed.
Brian and Abi. They were there every step of the way. They would listen. They would educate. Whatever was needed.
Dr. Hecht. He evaluated Silas soon after he woke up. He offered so much wisdom and hope. And he fought for Silas to go home with his family instead of residential rehab. Good call. 20 days apart was long enough.
The ICU nurses. They were with us day after day after day. For the ups and for the downs. They were so so so emotionally invested. There was one ICU day that was particularly horrible. Things were looking so bad for Silas. I was bawling. Our nurse Jessica was too. There was another day where everything was worse. Courtney let me cry on her shoulder. Actually, if I’m being honest, that happened more than once. And Sydni. She would write bible verses on the dry erase board. And sweet Brooke. She was new. She was only technically with us for one day but she came and checked on us a lot. She was in it for the long haul. Michelle. She was with us for several days early on. Ryan had so many questions for her. He would say, “Michelle, question…” She started greeting him with “Ryan, question.” Perfect. We all needed some good ol sarcasm. Rachel, Bailey, and Brittany, They loved Silas instantly. They cared deeply. Laura. She was there on the day Silas walked for the first time. She supported him every step of the way. Candice. I loved it when she came around. She was a manager. She was always so optimistic and so team Silas. On his first day walking she walked backwards in front of him the whole 4 minutes. She kept saying, “Keep your eyes up here. Look at me. You will go where your eyes go. We don’t want you on the floor.” Rebekah. She dug in on Day 17 and insisted that Silas be given a room away from the ICU. The delirium was so bad. She knew he needed a change of scenery. All of Si’s nurses took such incredible care of him. They were ready and able to do whatever was needed. They thought outside the box.
I know that there are so many others that I cannot remember by name. But from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands.
Every morning, when I see Silas for the first time I am overwhelmed with thankfulness. I am thankful to my God and Father, the creator and sustainer of life. I am thankful for His provision of the most incredible medical team for Silas. And I am so thankful for sweet Silas and his precious life. I am so thankful that he is healthy and strong and hysterical. I am so thankful that he is himself. He has always been so easy you know.”
Just a few members of Si’s incredible medical team. 🥰
I did it. I ran the Boston Marathon. That’s surreal.
The experience was, well, a lot. I am still processing. In some ways, it was what I expected. The spectators were nonstop. 500,000 people covering 26.2 miles. They had signs and cowbells. They were screaming and yelling and singing. There were hands out at every step offering high fives.
Boston is the most well-organized race I have ever seen. 128 years has given them an edge for sure. They are a well-oiled machine.
I read everything there was to read about the Boston Marathon prior to the race. I was not expecting surprises. Rookie mistake.
I was expecting cool temperatures. Nope. It was so hot. To be fair, most people were shocked by that. And unprepared. Around mile 8, I noticed that runners all around me were stopping to stretch their legs. By mile 10, runners were laying down with their legs in the air. By mile 12, runners were walking off the course.
For me, the leg cramps started with intensity at mile 8. And they did not stop. It was excruciating. Every step from that point on was a decision. I wanted to quit so bad. It was way too early in the race to be having those thoughts. Finishing felt impossible.
My saving grace was my sweet family and friends. I knew so many were praying for me. And I knew my brother, sister, and 4 nephews would be at mile 19. I needed to see their sweet faces. And they did not disappoint. Just as I was approaching Heartbreak Hill I saw them. My nephews first. They were holding signs and screaming at the top of their lungs. “We love you Aunt Cindy! We are so proud of you!” Then I saw my sweet sister wearing a bright yellow shirt (my fav color) and screaming “That’s my sister!!!” Then my amazing brother. Cheering so loud. I had a huge lump in my throat. When I looked again to my right I realized my nephews were still running with me and cheering. My eldest nephew ran a full mile with me on the other side of the barricade. Words cannot express how much I needed them. And how blessed I felt. And how much I wanted to climb over that barricade and go home with them.
Instead, I took off my hydration belt (which was long empty), threw it towards them, blew them all kisses and ran on.
Seven excruciating miles later I turned on Boylston Street and saw the finish line in the distance. I kicked in anything I had left in me and ran hard across the finish line. Relief flooded me. And also nausea. It was rough.
But just past the finish line, I met up with my sweet friend Andrea. We walked together to meet our husbands. And they took care of us. Just like they always do.
And now, here I am two days later. And do you know what stands out to me about my Boston Marathon experience? I am surrounded by so much love and support. And I am so thankful.
Marathon running is so mental. When I ran my first marathon in 2022 I wasn’t prepared for that. When I hit mile 25, my mind suddenly went off the rails. All I could think were negative thoughts. That is so not me. I am the queen of optimism. But I couldn’t remember that at the time.
I was more prepared mentally for my 2nd marathon in 2023. During training I would speak about my upcoming race with great confidence. I painted my fingernails yellow and blue to signify that I would (without a doubt) qualify for the Boston Marathon. My race shirt said, “I got this.” I knew the mental battle would be hard core. I made a plan. When the bad thoughts came I replaced them with positive ones. And it helped.
And here I am again. Gearing up mentally. And the battle is on. Even in my sleep. I am having all the dreams about race debacles. Just the other night I had the most vivid dream that I showed up late to the start line and in jeans no less! When I woke up my heart was racing.
But mostly, in my waking hours anyway, I am feeling great. Both mentally and physically. I am back to my goal pace. I am running the prescribed distances. I am eating more. Last weekend, I ran my longest run of this training cycle, a 20-miler. And I felt great! (Cheyenne overheard me telling someone that. She was like, “What!? You came home, laid on the floor and said you were going to throw up!” It’s all relative. You runners get me right? I meant the run felt great.) Tomorrow I run 14 and then I begin the taper. That means, after going up and up in miles for the last 18 weeks, I start going down. My poor legs need some rest before the big race.
I am so excited about running the Boston Marathon in 17 days. I still can’t believe it. But I’m just sayin’….. I got this.
Well, the Boston Marathon is 5 weeks and 3 days away. That is completely insane. And do you know what is even more insane? This training cycle. Everything that could have gone wrong, has.
I broke my left hand. A few weeks later, I tore ligaments in my right hand. Two weeks after that I got COVID and the flu. Together. That rolled into bronchitis and a sinus infection. Yikes. It’s been a rough go for sure.
And I’m so encouraged!
My prayer has been that I would hold marathon training loosely. That I would not idolize it. And the Lord has answered my prayer! He has done such a work in my heart. For 3 straight weeks (during peak training no less) I was too sick to run. And I didn’t worry about it at all. What a blessing. And an obvious work of the Lord. It is usually a very different story.
When I finally felt ready to run again, I jumped right back into the training schedule. My first run back was a 14-miler. And I did it. It was slow, but I ran the full distance. Since then I have been able to run the prescribed distances but have taken it a little slower on the paces.
On race day, my goal is to be there, be healthy and run every step of the way. I will likely run a slower race than I planned initially, but I am so good with that.
This will be my third marathon. I am certainly no expert, but I do know enough to see some personal trends. Namely, nutrition is a real problem for me. My appetite just does not keep up with the demands I am putting on my body. I am simply not eating enough. I am really working on it, but it is a day by day challenge.
Also, in case you don’t know, my marathon training is a real sacrifice for my family. It takes time and energy directly from Ryan and our fab 5. And they could not be sweeter about it. They are all so supportive and proud. Alexa is especially vocal. More than once she has said (in a group setting): “I have an announcement to make. My mom is going to run the Boston Marathon. I hope she wins.” 🥰
Sunshine Soldier 