On this day…. after months of research and testing and anguishing over decisions to be made, I held my hands wide in the biggest surrender of my life, standing by weak-kneed as a lauded young surgeon cut into my husband’s brain. Mercy flowed like a river on that day, down this mountain we’d only begun to climb.

The road that followed left it’s scars- some on heads and some on hearts, but today he is driving, seizure-free, and the proud owner of his own private practice.

When I hold my hands high on Sunday morning- in prayer, or surrender, or praise- my fingers sometimes find their way to the curve of the back of his head. And like braille, I read the reminder that miracles still happen and hope blooms even here.