Defining word: healing

heal·ing—the process of making or becoming sound or healthy again.

1. It’s 12:30 pm without a cloud in the sky and my mother and I are walking down a concrete trail in Blanchard Park. Sweat beads on my back, my face feels sticky and my thighs burn as I push Olive in her stroller. She’s fussing, all the signs pointing to heat exhaustion. Typically Florida residents know not to go outside during the hottest part of the day, but on this afternoon, the heat doesn’t bother me. My mother breaks our silence between out-of-breath pants, “Thank you for going on this walk with me. I’m glad I could spend time with you two.”

2. My husband and I are sitting on our front porch 30 minutes away from Olive’s bedtime as I’m bouncing Olive on my lap. He enters the house and returns with our We’re Not Really Strangers: Couples Edition card game. The cards feature questions we rarely find time to discuss the answers to but wish we could. “This is to pass the time,” he says. I smile. He knows how much I love this card game.

3. I’m holding a crying Olive in my arms and there’s no pleasing her. I gave her the bottle. I gave her the teething toy. I gave her the option for a nap. It’s no use, her face is scarlet tomato red and she’s shrieking. Still. Old Kathy would’ve assumed Olive was out to get me. That my infant daughter had some devious plan to prove I am an unfit mother who doesn’t know what she’s doing. The Kathy of these days knows better. She knows it’s okay to admit she’s annoyed with her daughter. And that it doesn’t make her any less of a mother.

4. My sister-in-law is downstairs with Olive one morning as I sit in my bedroom on Zoom with my therapist. I can’t believe it’s already been five months since meeting with her. “I know I have a long way to go,” I tell her. “But I’m proud of myself for making real progress.” My therapist Xenia affirms me. I don’t remember her exact response, but I do remember how I felt in that moment: seen.

5. I’m a fraud. My world caves as I read through my I-CBT therapy workbook. I’ve come up to the section about the feared self which prompts me to ask some difficult questions— who am I if I were to lose control? Who am I if I were to cause harm? Who am I, period? I pause my husband’s PS5 game to let him know I’m struggling with the content. I sit silent for a while on our living room couch and tears stream down my face. “God is good,” my husband says softly. I can’t help but question him, “Is He, really?”

6. My brother, who serves as a tanker in the military, had a two-week leave to visit family back in July. Sitting with him in my mother's guestroom in Titusville on his last day before he flew back to Texas, I remember how it felt like to be 20 years old. To feel like my whole life was ahead of me. He tells me he’s facing a career crossroads and I reassure him that whatever he chooses, I’m proud of him. We hug tightly, knowing it will be another five months before we see each other again.

7. One evening, my mind is exceptionally unsettled. My husband’s already asleep. Why am I not? Because I’m scrolling on my phone frantically reading articles from the NOCD website and I’m far down the rabbit hole of clickbait titles: What is Pure Obsessional OCD? Signs, Symptoms & Treatment, What are Mental Compulsions in OCD? Obsessing about Obsessing: “Is this really OCD?” I try to shake away the urge to keep reading but to no avail. Eventually, I put down the phone hours later after coming across a stark quote at midnight: OCD demands answers. To combat OCD, we must accept that uncertainty is a part of life. You will never be able to provide enough certainty to satisfy OCD—it will always demand more.

8. I'm sitting on the living room sofa, sharing with a good friend about how I’m grappling with my faith during this season. She does the same, playfully patting my leg and exclaiming “Amen!” whenever I say something that resonates with her. After an hour and a half of conversation, we conclude that every effort and relationship on this side of heaven, although beautiful, is ultimately stained.

9. I’m sobbing in my husband’s lap. We’re talking about the past several months, reminiscing, processing our past and current struggles. We’re both puffy-faced when suddenly we hear our daughter chirping through the baby monitor. “Ready to get the girl?” he asks me. I nod, wiping my tears away, and walking upstairs to grab her.

10. I’m on a Zoom call with the “Spark Crew”— a group of faith-based female entrepreneurs turned friends I met on Instagram in 2022. Admittedly, I’m ashamed that I’ve given up that lifestyle in exchange for a sabbatical and unknown vocational status, but each woman gives me nothing but encouragement for my decision. Business may have brought us together but our love for Jesus runs much deeper than that. I’m given this Charles Spurgeon quote toward the end of the call and it’s a balm to my soul: “You are as much serving God in looking after your own children and training them up in God’s fear, and minding the house, and making your household a church for God as you would be if you had been called to lead an army to battle for the Lord of hosts.”

11. I’m crawling on the floor in KidsTown at the Orlando Science Center chasing after a restless Olive. She yelps with joy, “Mamamamamamama!” While she doesn’t fully comprehend that word's meaning yet, in that moment, I pretend she does.