Phoenix: Live Love Laugh

This Thursday, I’ll be boarding a solo train ride—my first trip alone since 2020. And yes, I know that may sound questionable to some. Normally, this blog would be an enthusiastic solo trip but taking into consideration an active brain disability, I’m taking every step with faith. I’ve already started writing a blog on the things I struggle with mentally, just to stay prepared. 

But this trip means so much more than travel—it’s a reunion. I’ll be spending Easter with my cousin Shane, my forever gatekeeper. 

She earned that title long ago. From the very beginning—when I went into crisis just days before giving birth—she was right there, crying alongside me. (My mom was too.) Years later, during another painful Sickle Cell episode, she drove all the way from North Carolina just to take care of me. 

On her 40th birthday, I told her, “If you’ve got gas in your car and you can make it to Virginia—the celebration’s on me.” And what a celebration it was! We visited Weyers Cave, went wine tasting at CrossKeys Vineyard, dined on sushi, watched a movie at a drive-in theater, experienced Cirque du Soleil, and ended it with a grand finale at the Gaylord National Resort. Only to receive a call Four days later… that I was in a coma. Just goes to show how short our lives can be.

They said I might not wake up. 

But Shane? She never wavered. She stood guard outside my hospital room with unwavering faith. She told every family member flying in what to expect, but never let fear through the door. She believed only one voice had the final say: God’s. When prayers go up, miracles come down. I’m so thankful for the foundation of faith I was raised with—especially the powerful truth that “the family that prays together, stays together.” I do not take any credit away from other members of my family because they really came together while I slept. I am sure I will keep writing about my village as I go along.

Since my coma, Shane has been one of my anchors. She’s kept me grounded—checking in every day or week, offering encouragement, and lifting me up in prayer when I needed it most. Her patience, her compassion, and her unwavering presence continue to amaze me. Her love is steady, her faith unshakable. And I truly believe that’s part of what kept me here.

And as I sit here now, writing this, preparing to see her again this Easter—alive, walking, writing, smiling—I know she was right.

A Closing Prayer for Easter 

Dear Lord, 

Thank You for the light You’ve placed within us—even when we can’t see it ourselves. Thank You for friends who speak life into us, for family who guards us with love, and for the quiet reminders that You are always working behind the scenes. 

As we celebrate Easter, help us rise with renewed purpose. 

Let us walk in peace, speak with grace, and shine with the glow of Your presence. 

Bless this new season—of healing, of hope, of homecoming. 

Amen. 

Happy Easter, everyone. 

And if no one has told you today—you carry light too. 💛day—you carry light too. 💛