Hello, Blogging Family! It’s good to be back. 😊 Although I’ve written a light-hearted post, Ivan and I want to acknowledge the burdens many are carrying during this unprecedented season, whether from personal trials or world events.

~

Whether or not you’re American, or celebrate Thanksgiving this particular Thursday (sorry Canadians!), or eat turkey (apologies to the meat-averse and diverse), it is my joy and delight to wish you a happy Thanksgiving. Our culture often markets the day as a warm up for Black Friday – eat plenty of turkey so you’ll have energy to (literally) shop sun up to sun down! Officially we’re to devote ourselves to thanking God for all his blessings, but who isn’t prioritizing their “must-haves” and puzzling over the perfect itinerary at the same time? I stand guilty as charged.

This year I want to make a change by publicly thanking God (and you!) for some amazing blessings we’ve received over the past year. I wish I could sit at each of your dinner tables and thank you personally, but this post will have to do. If you’ve been following us a while, I’ll probably bore you by repeating facts you already know, but bear with me for the sake of the holiday. 😊

I’ll start by praising God for everything he has allowed – for good or ill – in our lives this year. Highs included going to Europe with some of Ivan’s students, and watching God grow our new church, City Light Bible Church. Lows included me earning my first F on a school assignment (ever) and us finally catching Covid after avoiding it for the past 3 years. Only God knows whether or not any of these seemingly little things will impact ours or anyone else’s life in the future, but we trust that they fit into God’s meta-plan:

“My thoughts are nothing like your thoughts,” says the Lord.

    “And my ways are far beyond anything you could imagine.

For just as the heavens are higher than the earth,

    so my ways are higher than your ways

    and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.” ~ Isaiah 55:8-9

And now’s the part where I thank YOU, our faithful Blogging Family!Thank you for the unbelievable enthusiasm, support, and advertising you gave, embraced, and shared during every step of publishing Walking with Grace (WWG). When I started working with Shepherd Press last December, turning our vision into a physical book seemed like climbing Mount Everest. Thank you also for supporting my and Ivan’s blog for the past six (wow!) years. You bore with both of us as we learned how to write. Because of this blog, I wanted to learn to communicate better. The obvious next step was returning to school…

Summing up five VERY long years, I first added a BA in English to my BS in health science (1 year). Then God allowed me to get accepted to my top pick for grad school, and he paved my way financially. What an amazing God we serve!

Here is where I thank y’all again as well: The Master of Fine Art (MFA) in creative writing took me four years to complete (It’s considered a doctorate for writers). Over the past four years, y’all have waited graciously when I forgot to post, or posted a first draft, or didn’t check for typos (gasp). You didn’t lose interest and drift away, no matter how much I struggled to keep up with school and the blog simultaneously. THANK YOU!!! 

I was told that no serious readers would stick around if I was that erratic, but you did. And the fact that you hung in there through it all was one of my biggest selling points when I was “auditioning” the book for agents. To you, it was a simple click. To me, it was another chip in my favor as I hung in the balance. You never know what God might be doing while you blog surf!

I’d be extremely remiss without thanking the staff and volunteers at Hillside Church for hosting our live radio interview with Craig Roberts about WWG. We also really appreciate City Light Bible’s volunteers. Thanks to both churches for the space to do book signings!

~

Whether you walk with us through this blog, social media, our book, or real life, Ivan and I can’t express how grateful we are to be surrounded by such a God-glorifying cloud of believers. I truly believe we wouldn’t have made it anywhere close to where we are now without your faithful, expectant, tireless prayers. May God enable us to pray the same way for you!

“A person standing alone can be attacked and defeated, but two can stand back-to-back

and conquer. Three are even better, for a triple-braided cord is not easily broken.”

~ Ecclesiastes 4:12

Hello Blogging Family! My parents, Ivan, and I are SO grateful to the staff at Hillside Church and volunteers from Hillside and City Light Bible Church for the live radio event they helped produce last week.

Last Friday we appeared as guests on “Life!line with Craig Roberts.” The show ran 5-7pm live on KFAX-AM1100. Life!Line is Northern California’s longest-running Conservative & Christian talk show. 

The recording is split in half since it’s a two hour show…

…No judgment if you listen at 1.25 speed. (Or higher! =O )

Whether you attended the live show, the book signing, or are catching up online, Ivan and I are immensely thankful for every single one of you. My favorite part of last Friday was the book signing because it helped me start linking screen names with faces! 😀 Please keep us updated if you have an unsigned book or purchase a new one – we may schedule another book signing based on demand.

Neither I nor my coauthor (Ivan) has any shot at being the next Shakespeare. But we pray what God’s given us to write may encourage you and point you to the Great Physician, who alone gives perfect healing.

“Instead, God chose things the world considers foolish in order to shame those who think they are wise. And he chose things that are powerless to shame those who are powerful.” 1 Corinthians 1:27

Join me, Ivan, and my parents (Keith and Teri Crosby) at Hillside Church TOMORROW, 10/6, for our live radio interview with Craig Roberts.

“Life!line with Craig Roberts” is Northern California’s longest-running Conservative & Christian talk show. Show runs 5-7pm PST on KFAX-AM1100.

Latecomers are welcome. Book signing to follow.

Audio stream from ANYWHERE at: https://kfax.com

Ivan and I are beyond blessed by the outpouring of messages, comments, likes, reposts, and tags you’ve showered on us over the birth week of Walking with Grace: Embracing God’s Goodness in Trauma. At the risk of sounding like a broken record, whatever you may find encouraging or challenging in our story is a direct result of how graciously God works through and in spite of human brokenness.

Thank you for rejoicing with us at the completion of a work that was first imagined almost seven years ago. ❤ We can’t wait to celebrate with you tomorrow in person, online, and over the airwaves! (KFAX-AM1100)

Happy Friday, Blogging Family! Can you believe it’s T-3 days until Walking with Grace: Embracing God’s Goodness in Trauma comes out this Monday?

Watch my unedited first look at the final copy and praise God with us for the work He has done!

Hello Blogging Family! We recently released a video to promote Walking with Grace on Facebook and Instagram so I thought I’d include it here as well.

Your love and support mean the world to us, whatever form that takes. I wish I could write a personal thank youth everyone who reads or shares our story, but I don’t get to see anything about sales. Still, I’ll happily give an enormous THANK YOU if you let me know virtually or in person. 🙂

In the big picture, we hope our story might glorify God by telling of his wondrous intervention and grace in our lives in the midst of suffering. God’s already given you an active roll in that drama and I’m sure will continue to do so. Thank you for how much you pray for us all these years later, and praise the Lord!

Will there be a yesterday? My sister and I are in our bedroom, mulling over the various worksheets covering our “children’s table,” when we hear the phone. But the phone never rings! Daddy is always in class or at one of his jobs, and Mom almost never talks on the phone. Who is it?

Mom leaves us to our assignments and answers in the hallway. She greets our grandmother, “Gi”, but calls my name a few seconds later. “Grace,” she orders. “Turn on the TV.” “Coming!” I holler, vigorously slapping all the limbs that have fallen asleep since I’ve been lying on them. I amble into the living room and turn on our TV, not expecting to see much. We don’t have cable and only pick up a local network or two with our wire set of “rabbit ears.”

What I see as the screen fades into focus on the screen strikes me like a cement battering ram. Planes flying into skyscrapers. Bodies and body parts falling through the air. Fires in the planes. Fires in the towers. And then the unimaginable. Is this some sort of movie? Who’s going to make it stop?

I freeze.

Anna wanders into the living room casually, carrying her worksheet and a few colored pencils.

“What’s that?” she asks. “A plane accident?”

No words.

I don’t remember when Mom hangs up the phone, or what she tells us the day of the attacks. I just remember crouching on our well-used Persian rug, glued to the TV, watching the planes destroy the towers and our people over and over again. It’s like a pernicious Infomercial with ratings that stay so high it never stops. I don’t know why Anna and I keep watching or why Mom keeps letting us. Maybe she’s hoping for more news updates. Maybe the news is indeed updating but my eight- year-old brain doesn’t follow.

Once Daddy gets home I start hearing new, unfriendly words like “terrorist,” “terror attack,” and “Al-Qaeda.” I have no idea what any of them mean. “Mom, what’s a terrorist?” I’ll ask the next day at lunch. She won’t answer.

My violin lesson and orchestra rehearsal are canceled the day of the attacks. As an eight-year-old, this seems perhaps the greatest tragedy of them all. My violin teacher and my orchestra friends are very real to me. I feel happy or sad with them because we share our stories together. These plane attacks are different. I know I should feel sorry for the falling bodies on our pixelated screen. If you asked me if I feel sorry for them, I’d give a resounding “Yes!” But I worry I’m lying. I don’t feel anything on the inside about all those people. Of course I wish they could come back to life and return to their families. But my life hasn’t changed. I’m sick of watching the news and I haven’t had a violin lesson in two whole weeks! Can’t we just pretend like all this never happened and go back to normal?

Our church holds a candlelight vigil the Friday after 9/11. Suddenly I’m holding a real candle in my real hand for another real person who is really dead. That’s about as real as my music lessons. As are the yellow ribbons tied proudly around many trees in our formerly less-than patriotic Van Nuys neighborhood. If those didn’t make 9/11 real to a little girl in the San Fernando Valley, our next flight to Savannah certainly did: Mom, worrying some or all of us will get foot warts as we remove our shoes and walk barefoot through the TSA scanner; me, getting frisked by big, scary officers even though I’m only nine years old; all of us, inconsolable upon learning there are no more in-flight meals.

Even at that young age, I could sense the world was changing and there would be no going back. For a couple of years, our country enjoyed a deeper sense of unity. In some states it even became cool to say pseudo-Christian phrases like “God Bless America.” Twenty years later, I also look at the little children in airports think how sad it must be that they’ll never see a loved one waiting for them right at the gate after they land. What must it be like to grow up always associating planes with impractical precautions, scary what-ifs, and potential death? How did “terrorist” become a vocabulary word elementary school kids acquire and use, just like “clown” or “chef”?

If I were remembering today without Christ, I would see it as a day of utter tragedy for our nation and for the innocent future generations of America. But because I know that God is as completely good as he is sovereign, I can still trust his plan for our country and its families:

²⁹ Then his disciples said…^” Now we understand that you know everything, and there’s no need to question you. From this we believe that you came from God.”

³¹ Jesus asked, “Do you finally believe? …³³ I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” ~John 16:29-33

Happy September, Blogging Family! It’s crazy that Ivan‘s last post was six weeks ago. Hopefully we will clarify that shortly!

I could begin with a variety of jokes about hands, mine in particular, but I’d rather start by quoting the apostle James:

¹³ Look here, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we are going to a certain town and will stay there a year. We will do business there and make a profit.” ¹⁴ How do you know what your life will be like tomorrow? Your life is like the morning fog—it’s here a little while, then it’s gone. ¹⁵ What you ought to say is, “If the Lord wants us to, we will live and do this or that.” ¹⁶ Otherwise you are boasting about your own pretentious plans, and all such boasting is evil. ~ James 4:13-15

Basically, that’s why I haven’t written y’all earlier. And I’m still not writing. I’m dictating a note on my iPhone. Sadly, Microsoft Word no longer dictates if you are one of those dinosaurs who actually bought the software several years ago as I did. Little could I have known that now you only get the dictation feature if you to subscribe to Office 365. So here we are: Future you, reading. Current me, talking into my phone and sounding like a crazy person to the landscaper near our screen door, knowing that I will still have to email this to myself and correct a bunch of crazy words and punctuation. Alas forsooth.

Returning to our main topic (hands), along with James’s commentary. The aforementioned surgery did what it was supposed to: It released some tendons that had been pressed together in my right wrist. But I was not a good patient. I was supposed to completely rest my right hand for at least 2 to 4 weeks after the surgery. For me, that was impossible. After the two strokes during my initial accident, I never regained feeling in my left hand, which means I’m still overly reliant on my right hand. Take that hand away, and I’m pretty much done for.

Praise the Lord, that the surgery happened in the summer so Ivan was on break and able to help me as much as possible. He was amazingly kind about taking care of chores, cooking, and all the random things that you never think of doing until you can’t. Like using utensils, or lifting a coffee cup (still can’t!), or putting toothpaste on a toothbrush. On my end, I began pushing post-surgical precautions after a few days because I felt guilty sitting around aimlessly, watching my strong, godly husband work like a housewife. What’s more, I hated the idea of him continuing to help me with my responsibilities if I was not completely better before the school year started, (See my plan to go to “a certain town”?)

I was not completely better when he got back to work, and I insisted on resuming as much of my old routine as possible (do business and make a profit). Hence why I am writing to you today. To summarize complicated medicalese, the surgery site healed as planned, but I’ve overcompensated while it was recovering with other parts of my right hand so that these parts are even more painful than the original injury was. My right hand has built up so much scar tissue and inflammation that it’s simulating pretty noticeable arthritis. Since I haven’t had this problem before, they’re not treating it as real arthritis, and they’re hoping it will settle down with lots of therapy. Until then, I have a giant red X marked over handwriting, typing, and therefore most of my academic/creative life.

Giving both my hands to the Lord is terrifying. God chose not to restore my left hand when he was healing me from my original accident, which means I haven’t performed on the violin since 2016. That loss is something I still grieve deeply. As I continue on this hand journey, I hear a voice of fear whispering, “What if you lose the right hand too? That was your second chance at creativity, at having a meaningful purpose in life.” But this is where I run to God.The voice in my head is lying. Living as God’s redeemed child is my purpose in life. And he helped me survive an extreme accident, which drives home just how much he wants me here on earth. I’m in his hands even if I don’t know the plan yet. Those fears trying to deceive me are not the guaranteed outcome of this trial with my right hand – they’re just worst-case scenario thinking. My therapist, on the other hand, is so confident he can “fix” me that he put a number on it : 12 sessions.

But even if God wills differently than the therapist, or I “find more “emergencies” to use my right hand; even if the scar tissue doesn’t break down, or the inflammation stays and it does become arthritis, I’m not losing my right hand. I’m sure we’ll find a good dictation set up. I might not be as creative as I’d hoped since I prefer working with pen and paper, but I’ll know that I’m working the way God wants me to work. And I know when I’m doing that, as the line goes in Chariots of Fire, “I feel His pleasure.”

I can’t see what the next four months hold. Perhaps not much writing (unless I can bribe Ivan!). But I know God’s sovereign plan is best for me, and for you, and for all of us who are waving our arms (and hands) wildly, trying to regain our footing after getting our breath knocked out of us by disappointment ninjas. Fall into God’s arms with me. He won’t ever let us go. 

Friendly Reminder: Walking with Grace: Embracing God‘s Goodness in Trauma comes out October 2!! You can pre-order now through Amazon or Shepherd Press.

<3<3Thanks for your prayers and support through all the years! <3<3

Good morning, Blogging Family! I’m super excited to be writing an 110 % certified organic blog post this morning. As fun as it is keeping y’all posted on book updates, I sure have missed telling the good ol’ yarn. And what a yarn do I have for you!

Some of you may already know that Ivan and I spent 10 days in London and Paris last month. We were on a “working trip” for Ivan’s school that included 29 highschoolers, three parents, and a couple of other teachers, but I didn’t mind. We were just super grateful I was able to join. That was possible only because the students spent five days in each city. The pace allowed me to join a few excursions but rest at the hotel as much as I needed. Instead of giving a detailed summary of our fortnight in the Old World, I’ve selected a few episodes from my travel journal to give y’all a flavor of the trip:

LONDON: “I really have to make a call, Miss!”

True to the stereotypes of vintage films and fashion magazines, London still has red telephone booths almost every block. A few years ago, I’d heard about a movement demanding they be removed. Obviously no one must use them anymore, I extrapolated in my American omniscience. I felt pretty justified: who would pay to use a dumb phone in the era of AirPods and iWatches? 

Almost every American (girl) who goes to London poses for a picture in one of those red booths. I pulled Ivan away for my shot while the kids were wandering around outside Westminster Abbey. Honestly, it was meant to be a “one and done.” But then there was wind, my bag looked awkward slung across my torso, the noon light insisted on dissecting my face neatly into dissimilar halves. Suddenly a perturbed man’s voice battered its way through the wind. “I really have to make a call, Miss!” I hadn’t even noticed the scruffy man in shorts and a t-shirt leaning against one of the shops. He stormed off down the sidewalk before I could answer.

~

LONDON: The King’s English

Occasionally someone comments on my annoyingly correct grammar here in the U.S. (E.g. “Gift” is not a verb. “Gift” is a noun. You cannot gift someone a present. You must give them the present.) 

Nevertheless, I was on pins and needles when we landed in the U.K. because that was where the real English speakers lived. It didn’t matter how much time I’d spent reading and writing over the course of my life: I was positive my language skills weren’t up to scratch.

Alas forsooth.

Our group stayed in a charming Victorian mansion that had been converted to a small hotel. Ivan and the kids were usually out from 8 am – 9 pm, while I either went out in the morning or the evening. Our second day in the hotel, I thought I’d arrange my schedule so I’d be out of the room during housekeeping hours. I spotted a petite brunette woman in what looked like a housekeeping uniform at the end of the hall:

“Excuse me – what time is housekeeping today?”

“No English.” Her accident was unidentifiable.

“Oh. When – clean – today?”

“No English.” Apparently she wasn’t kidding.

I was completely out of my depth. Ivan and I are functional in Spanish, so we don’t usually have a problem communicating with the majority of non-English-speakers in California. The only other language I’ve studied was French, and I was very sure my new friend wasn’t from France either.

“Translator?” She almost begged.

“Yes please!” I tried smiling to show I wasn’t angry.

A couple of minutes later my dainty friend returned, accompanied by a sturdy, matter-of-fact woman I recognized from the hotel bar. 

“So sorry to bother you!” I began, finally processing just how much trouble I was raising over a simple question. “What time is housekeeping today?” 

The new woman cocked her head to one side and looked at me quizzically.

“No English.”

~

PARIS: All I wanted was a Bandaid…

Surprise surprise! Paris was by far my favorite part of the trip, and I would go back again tomorrow if I could. Both Ivan and I had studied French in the past, and we reviewed a bit before the trip with a particular goal in mind: Could we make it all 5 days without speaking English? (This was a personal challenge; most of the kids did not speak French, and our tour guide was bilingual.) 

Most of our group’s excursions were á pied or en métro, which on average had us walking 6-8 miles in humid, 85º F heat each day. (No, we did not experience central air in buildings, trains, or hotels.) With all that sweatiness, I wasn’t terribly surprised to slide off my Crocs one night and discover that my left pinky toe had been skinned as perfectly as you might peel an apple or grate a carrot. In other words, I had toe but no skin. 

Pro travelers would have brought their own bandages. But this was our first trip abroad and I have more important medical needs to remember than a hypothetical Bandaid. Besides, the front desk always has those, right? Then Ivan and I looked at each other.

We were in France.

Did concierges provide anything? There was a pharmacie across the street, but Parisian store hours seemed different from ours, and that place didn’t open until after we would have left for our morning excursion. 

“Can you just make it?”

We looked at my foot. The fleshy, red toe dermis looked like it was pulsing under the bathroom lights.

“I can’t even touch it.” All this, after 10 pm at night. 

I prayed for miraculous restoration, but the Former Toe was even worse the next morning. I told Ivan to go ahead and feed himself. My priority was someone who had anything remotely like a Bandaid. Recognizing that brand names are probably different in Europe, I looked up the word for “bandage” (pansement) and sallied forth. Such cultural awareness could not fail.

“Je suis desolée, mais j’ai besoin d’un pansement.” I smiled professionally.

“Quoi?” The Saturday morning concierge was lost in something fascinating on her computer.

“Un pansement. J’ai besoin d’un pansement.” I spoke more slowly in case I’d rushed the first time. I’d watched more than enough French movies to know that my grammar and usage was correct.

“Desolée, mais je ne comprends pas.” 

“Bandage. I need a – ” There was no good hand signal for a Former Toe.  “ –  Je peux vous l’ẻcrire?” I gestured for a pen and paper. Just then, an older member of the hotel staff approached. 

“Qu’est-ce qu’il se passe ici?” she asked.

“I want a pansement!” I was approaching the end of my rope.

“Un pansement?” the woman smiled, “Tout de suite!”

I smiled pathetically at the concierge while waiting for my coveted bandage to appear.

“Desolée, mon français est vraiment mauvais.”  

“Pas du tout! We say ‘pansement.’” She nodded encouragingly, waiting for me to try on my own.

“Pansement.” 

“Pansement – much better!”

I could not for the life of me tell the difference.

~

Are you as excited as we are about Walking with Grace the book? Watch the trailer and preorder your own copy here today!

It’s here! Ivan and I are super blessed to premier Shepherd Press’s trailer for Walking with Grace. And we’re giving you, our Blogging Family, priority viewing! 

Click here or check out the link below to preorder your copy today!

Amazon.com:

Ivan and I couldn’t have made it this far in my physical or our emotional and spiritual journeys without your love and prayers. We remain humbled and blessed by all of you, some of whom we won’t meet until heaven. However you walk with us now or in the future, all of your support is equally precious and undeserved – a pleasing aroma to the Lord. We pray this book brings glory to God and healing to many.

Hello, Blogging Family! We have some exciting news to share this holiday weekend.

Shepherd Press will be releasing my memoir this October at the national ACBC* conference in Santa Clarita, CA. The book is called Walking with Grace: Embracing God’s Goodness in Trauma, and uses my experience as a survivor of severe traumatic brain injury to examine how we should respond when God doesn’t grant our urgent prayers for healing.

Follow this link if you’d like to be notified when you can pre-order your copy of Walking with Grace.

Thanks as always for your love and support!

*Association of Certified Biblical Counselors