Finding Beauty in the Broken Things: A Journey of Healing

(Originally written August 2, 2025)

I went to the beach this morning to reflect on my 12th cancer-free anniversary and my ongoing healing journey. It was a beautiful day—barely a cloud in the sky, a perfect breeze, and clear, calm water. The perfect opportunity for healing: lots of vitamin D, fresh air, grounding, negative ions, and mineral-rich salt water.

As a lifelong Floridian, my beach walks always involve the search for perfect shells and sharks’ teeth. Today, there was nothing but broken shells and sea glass to be found. I was pretty disappointed, to be honest. So during my walk along the shore, I decided to instead focus on gratitude—not only for the past twelve years, but also for the warm sun on my face and the sand beneath my feet. I noticed the beauty in the broken shells and pieces of sea glass, reminding me of my own healing journey—broken yet beautiful, a reflection of God’s masterpiece.

At 45, I faced breast cancer and osteoporosis, followed by four surgeries, two ruptured implants, and many health challenges, including autoimmune Hashimoto’s, breast implant illness, Epstein-Barr virus, and chronic fatigue. Most recently, I underwent SGAP breast reconstruction—another step in my ongoing journey toward healing.

A couple of months ago, I chose to move near the Intracoastal to be closer to my family and the ocean—only to discover I had moved into a moldy home.

The past two months have been especially challenging. Mold exposure sent my autoimmune markers soaring, intensified my chemical sensitivities, and brought on new respiratory symptoms. It felt like taking one step forward and ten steps back. Remediation has been done, and I’m doing everything I can to keep my detox pathways open and nourish my body so I can continue to heal.

It’s easy to get overwhelmed and feel like I’ll never fully heal. But instead, I’m choosing to acknowledge God’s faithfulness during the trials, embrace gratitude, and trust that with His help, I can and will heal. It may not follow my timeline, and I know there will be more unexpected surprises along the way. But I'll continue to do what I know to do and leave the rest in God's hands.

So instead of worrying about whether the cancer will come back or any other uncertainties, I’m taking the small, healthy steps I do know will help. I’m also choosing gratitude in the midst of brokenness—gratitude for the small things and for the blessings I have. Just like the broken shells on the beach, my journey isn’t perfect—but I’m learning to see beauty in the imperfections. Each small step toward health is a reminder that even in brokenness, there is hope, growth, and God's grace. Even when life feels broken, beauty and grace are always present—if we choose to see them.