Hard to Help

We are living in strange times. Lately I've felt a sense of complete helplessness. People all around are begging for help, and yet when it comes down to it, they don't actually want your advice or your offers. People are hard to help.

After wearing my brace for a couple years, the "coolness" of it all wore off and I did NOT enjoy wearing it. It was hot, difficult to breathe in, and I had a pinched nerve in my hip which caused horrible pain while in the brace. My mom would constantly poke me in the ribs and remind me to wear it, along with the "you don't want to end up having surgery" speech. I knew she wanted the best for me and that she didn't actually want me to suffer through another 23 hours of wearing a hot, constricting, plastic shell. But more than that, she didn't want me ending up with two 18" rods screwed into my spine. Many times I would lie in bed thinking, "No one understands what it's like. If they could just spend ONE HOUR in my brace, they'd never tell me to put it back on." Within the next few years I had two friends in a back brace. And I have to imagine that if they had told me to go put my brace on, I'd do it without thinking twice. They knew what it was like. And somehow, that made it better.

When people offer to help, we say:

• "They just don't understand. They haven't been through this and can't help me." 
• "I can't believe they said (fill in the blank with some ignorant/insensitive, but well-meaning statement)."
• "They must think I'm incapable."

When people don't offer to help (possibly because they are afraid of the judgment they will receive), we respond with:

• "Where were they? What kind of friends are they?"
• "They're so self-centered that they don't even see that I'm hurting."

The truth is, our human nature tends to judge and assume. We live in a time where helping is so hard. We are expected to say the right thing at the right time with the right motives and just the right amount of empathy. It's much easier simply not to help. But in the end, people will remember that you tried to be there. Let's be quick to help, slow to judge, quick to listen, and accept the fact that sometimes we need help from those we wouldn't necessarily expect. 

Oh, and June is Scoliosis Awareness Month. Go get your kids screened. (Coming from someone who's "been there.")

26.too many

If I could rename this post, I'd call it 1.too many, because running is one of my least favorite activities (right there with dentist appointments). My feelings toward running stem from only two experiences in high school. Running the mile in gym class was always a very mediocre task. One year my school organized a "Fun Run," a deceitfully named event to pledge money every lap a student ran. I don't think I ran much more than a mile or so, but I still felt as if my lungs would burst, I would vomit, or something tragic would happen. I decided right then and there that running was simply not my thing.

Fast forward 10 years after my spinal fusion, and my lung capacity has improved. Friends and I would participate in the fun races where you dress up in costumes or get glow-in-the-dark powder thrown in your eyes. 5K's and 10K's are doable with little to no training. Suddenly running became my passion. I simply can't get enough of it. (That's where you thought this post was going. But truthfully, I don't hate it any less.)

Then my life changed one day as I sat on my bed looking through a pre-written bucket list book from my friend. Skydiving, done. Hot air balloon, done. Parasailing, done. Be in a musical, done. Ref certification, done. A bunch of other random things, done. Then there it was: "run a marathon." If I was going to complete this book, I determined that I wasn't getting any younger, so this was the year. And just like that, I was signed up to run the Chicago marathon! 

The situation was perfect (other than the running part). I joined the Ronald McDonald House Charities team, easily raised the required $1,750 ($2,400 to be exact!), and was treated like royalty for the race. 

What I didn't consider, however, was the training. It was daunting after barely finishing a couple mile run to think about completing an entire marathon. There were days when I was so busy after a day of teaching and coaching and a 12-mile run waited for me. There were days when I didn't feel well, or the rain was pouring, the sun was blazing, or the wind was pushing against me. It was so hard. The day I ran the 20-miler, I began at 4am and ended up vomiting blood and almost passing out afterwards. There were several runs, short and long, that I got sick after. One dark evening, my 12-mile run outside ended with by tripping over the uneven sidewalk and scraping my hands and knees. I had 1/4 of a mile left. But I finished. 

There were also days when I unexpectedly met fellow RMHC runners along the way or saw some of my students in the forest preserve. Days that I felt so accomplished afterwards for a decent time or simply that I completed the run without stopping. Days when the improvement in my running almost seemed worth the effort. 

Then the big day came. I dreaded every second of it. It was wonderful having so much support from friends and family who came to watch, those who texted to cheer me on, and those who donated. My goal was to run at least 21 without stopping. I had done 20, so I knew I could. And if I could do 21, there was a chance I could do most or all of it. 

The experience was amazing. The RMHC tent was basically a party, which helped calm my fears. The people who stood along the streets cheering on complete strangers brought so much distraction and entertainment. (Some of the signs were hilarious.) The ambiance easily brought me to 9 miles and I was still feeling fantastic. Once I reached the halfway point, the run got much more difficult. Chinatown is one of my favorite places in Chicago, except when you've been running roughly 18 miles or so and the smell is completely nauseating. 

Unfortunately, I didn't make my goal. I felt so defeated and completely disappointed in myself. But I finished. I had to walk on and off for the last bit. Extreme pain in my feet, hips, back (and strangely, my arm??) brought tears to my eyes many times during the last stretch. When my running app told me I was around mile 18, I was discouraged to pass the 16-mile marker. But thanks to my friends along the way and the strangers who looked me in the eye and said "YOU got this! YOU can do it," I finished the 26.2. I felt so sick afterwards, but I didn't throw up this time! 

Do I regret it? Not a chance. I learned patience like I have never experienced before. I learned not to get ahead of myself and literally take it one step at a time. I learned that when I feel like I cannot push any farther, my body is capable of going on. I learned consistency, and getting out there when you don't want to. I learned to keep a flash light on me when it's dark outside. I learned that running makes your legs bigger. I learned not to run my 20-miler before Sunday morning church because I’ll be throwing up blood and passing out. I re-learned that running is not for me. And I learned how far an encouraging look, text, hug, or simply the presence and support of friends/family can carry you through some rough patches. 

Would I do it again? Never.

The Sky's the Limit

Personally, I have found a great deal of enjoyment in exploring these limits, the sky being one of them.

June is National Scoliosis Month. So here's an obligatory "don't let your scoliosis stop you from doing what you love" post. Correction. Scoliosis really shouldn't stop you from anything, unless it's crazy severe, which is very rare. Spinal fusions, on the other hand, should stop you from a few things. But don't live in fear!

I was extremely nervous weeks before the date I signed my life away. (There have been many occasions where I have found myself signing my life away, including my spinal fusion.) The tension only heightened after our scheduled jumping date was canceled due to weather. But eventually it was time. I sent texts of love to my family and tried to silence the sound of everyone's voice in my head saying, "I told you not to" if something were actually to go wrong.

My friends and I geared up and loaded the plane. We traveled over 14,000 feet into the air, and I watched with terror as the instructors in front of me disappeared from the plane door. Of course, out of the three of us, I had to go first. It was definitely too late (and too expensive) to back out now.

The instructor and I waddled up to the open door and I stepped out of the plane onto the black step of doom. I guess my instructor counted to three and we fell out, but it all happened so quickly that it's just a blur to me. The free-fall is the part I remember most, because it was amazing. After a second of a dropping feeling, I felt as if we were floating on air (with tons of face-numbing, cold air rushing at us). 

People warned me that deploying the parachute would be hard on my back. I hardly remember it. Once the parachute came out, I became aware of our vast distance from the ground, so I was scared, cold, and sick of my popping ears. That part was less enjoyable for me, but the view was still so cool. 

And then came the landing-- the part I was slightly nervous about regarding my back. My instructor told me to lift my legs straight out, and we glided smoothly into the grass. I've tripped over my own feet more forcefully than that.

Seeing that I'm afraid of heights, I never imagined myself sky diving, much less after having a spinal fusion. I may not be able to do somersaults or sit-ups, but I can jump out of a perfectly good airplane. Don't let your limitations stop you from trying new and amazing things!

*Disclaimer: Not all jumps are identical, so the fact that I survived mine doesn't mean I am endorsing yours. (But if you're considering, you should totally look on Groupon.)

Higgy Bears: Making Scoliosis Bear-Able

My family is a proud owner of a unique idea called a “Higgy Bear.” A few years ago my mom was doing some typical scoliosis research and found a site that sells teddy bears designed by a lady who actually had a spinal fusion herself. These are not your average teddy bears. They’re “Higgy Bears,” complete with rods sewn into their backs or back braces with custom designs. These bears are adorable. Plus, they can make the lonely journey of bracing and surgery a little less lonely, when you’ve got someone (or something) going through it with you! So, being the lover of all things creative and kid-friendly, my mom bought a Higgy Bear with rods inside, as well as a back brace for one of our Generation Dolls. It was a tie-dye one, just like one I had.

These bears are cute and creative, for sure, but to me, it’s the heart behind the Bear that’s inspiring. Here is someone who took her past pain to make a difference— to impact people in a positive way from a negative situation. These are the kinds of people who make this world a better place— those who are always thinking of others first. No one wants to go through the ups and downs of life alone. So get yourself, or someone else, a Higgy Bear to “make scoliosis bear-able.”

Visit their website!

The Secret of Scoliosis

Scoliosis is not cancer.
Scoliosis is not ALS.
Scoliosis is not a brain tumor. 

Scoliosis is not diabetes.

Scoliosis is not autism.

Scoliosis is scoliosis.

There are horrible diseases that deserve awareness, research, funding, and a cure. Diseases that take lives of so many precious people. So why do I care so much about scoliosis?

Scoliosis can actually be life-threatening in extreme cases. However, most people experience scoliosis from a mild to severe spectrum. Scoliosis affects thousands of people. It affects your health, confidence, physical abilities, emotions, appearance, and so much more. 

Scoliosis should NOT be a secret. How is something so common so unheard of to many people? This is why my blog exists. This is why I made a YouTube video, a FaceBook page, host benefit concerts every year, and correspond with other scoliosis patients. The world needs to know about scoliosis.

This is why I am asking you, my friends I know, and friends I've never met, to nominate me for the WEGO Health Patient Leader award.

Spread the word, stop the curve.

Scoliosis is no secret.

When Scars Fade

Time has a way of healing things. No matter what hardships we’ve endured, in time we tend to forget what some of the pain was like. Nothing will ever take these scars away. They’re here for good. And yet we still forget.

My back surgery was by far the most physically painful thing I’ve been through. Occasionally, I will wake up after a nightmare about having another back surgery. And then it’s as if all the memories and feelings flood back to my mind. I begin remembering the pain I felt, the emotions, the surroundings, the smells of the hospital, and the people there with me. Sometimes I’ll push myself too hard playing volleyball or trying to pick something up, and the smallest amount of pain sends me back to those moments of what it felt like almost 9 years ago. It all comes back.

And yet I live most of everyday not giving a thought to any of that. Because I’m in denial? No. Because my back is fixed and perfect now? Mostly definitely no. Because life moves on, whether you’re ready or not.

I’ve been reminded of this as I’ve seen my family and friends go through heartache this year. I was reminded last night when talking with a high school girl who was sobbing over a very difficult situation she was experiencing. And then later I heard her joyful laughter. Was everything ok then? No, but life moves on. And so we have to.

Scars are fascinating to me. Not only do they look cool, but they typically have awesome (or sometimes hilarious) stories behind them. A lot of people ask me if I try to hide my scar or make it less noticeable with medicine. My response? No way! I worked hard for this. I’m very proud of my 18-inch scar.

Scars are not a reminder of what you’ve been through (although it certainly is that) as much as it is a reminder of who you are now because of what you’ve been through. Every problem God gives us in life makes us a different person. It changes our perspective a little bit at a time. Our character grows through hardships if we allow God to work.

As of last August, my friends and I have raised almost $6,000 for the Ronald McDonald House Charities. Before my surgery, I didn’t even know what that organization was, much less cared to help it. I became passionate about it. But after a while, I wondered if all the stress of putting on these benefit concerts was worth it. I was forgetting what I had been through and how I had been changed. 

Even scars fade. That permanent proof of victory becomes less visible, and therefore less memorable. We shouldn’t live in the past, stuck where we used to be, enduring those trials all over again. Let’s remember how far we’ve come and how we can keep growing and shining as our scars disappear.

Does Scoliosis Matter?

Of course scoliosis matters. Right? I mean, it has affected my life in so many ways since I was 6 years old. Doctors appointments and x-rays every 3-6 months, braces 23 hours a day for six years, a huge surgery with a long recovery, and now permanent rods and screws with no more slouching for the rest of my life. I would say it matters a lot.


But does it really matter?


I used to believe it did, so much that I devoted myself to blogging, emailing, participating in webinars, interviews, and even incorporated scoliosis into my master's thesis. Every year I organize a benefit concert, and my friends and I have raised a couple thousand dollars for the Ronald McDonald House Charities that helped us during my surgery.

So what has changed?


The longer I live, the harder life gets. And my life has not necessarily been an easy ride, although I wouldn't change any of it. You build relationships, and then get hurt. You love people, and then lose them. But that's a part of life-- a part that reminds us that there is more than this life right here and now. I have a friend who passed away from ALS. My grandma lived with diabetes, kidney failure, and many other health issues, and last year she went home to be with God. And then a couple months later, a high school student at my school and church was diagnosed with leukemia, but the battle ended only a few short days after.


Seeing all the loss and heartache around me makes me wonder why I would devote myself to helping those with scoliosis when there are life-threatening diseases that I could help fight against. Living with a crooked spine or rods and screws seems so trivial now.


And so I stopped. I stopped thinking about scoliosis, about getting involved and helping people, just so I could think about what I wanted to accomplish in my short life.


My decision? It may change. It may grow. I may completely throw it out the window. But for now, I have decided that I actually have no control. In the end, it doesn't really matter what I do. The fact is, people still die. People still suffer. We all have our own experiences, and I am not called to be the hero. I do believe that God purposefully gave me scoliosis, because He knew I needed it, AND because I would do something about it.


Lately, I've come across so many people with new scoliosis diagnoses. No, it's not cancer. It's not immediately life-threatening. But it is scary. It's unknown. It's painful. It's emotional. It's a path not traveled yet. And these people need someone who's been there. And that's what I've been called to do.


I can't save lives... (except when I donate blood. And then I save 3. LOL) But it's the quality of life that I can have an impact on. That's why I have decided to continue my efforts to help those with scoliosis. That's why I will keep putting on these benefit concerts for RMCH. I want to give both children and adults the opportunity to be together during times of hardship and trauma.

But even that doesn't ultimately matter. When your life is over, good or bad, pleasant or painful, it's over. You can't change it. The choices made here and now affect where we spend eternity after death. And this is what truly matters. I am going to keep using scoliosis as a way of sharing the Truth with those around me. Eternal life matters. And you can only have it through Jesus Christ.


So... does scoliosis matter? To me, yes. I consider it a gift from God (although a painful, annoying one!) that I can use to help show others the way to eternal life with Him. And THAT matters most!

Scoliosis Defines Me

"Scoliosis does not define me." If you've read many scoliosis stories, you've seen this statement a million times. In today's culture, there are two popular responses to physical trials in life. One of those reactions is that you want to fit in and be as normal as possible, so you don't talk about your physical problems and deal with the effects inwardly. On the other end of the spectrum, you want to be the overcomer and boldly face new challenges simply for the sake of showing people and proving to yourself that this isn't going to stop you. And I've been on both sides of the fence. In fact, I frequently jump from one side to the other.

So does scoliosis define me? I love etymology. Don't be weirded out when I say that I looked up the definition of "define." It comes from the French word meaning "to put an end to" and the Latin, "to limit," but let's think about the context we use it in. (It's also popular now days to play devil's advocate and write a controversial blog post!) Here is one interesting definition: "to describe the nature, properties, or essential qualities of."

Let's think about physical properties. One of the first things people notice about me is my posture. Reason? Scoliosis. I can't wear a lot of clothing because of the way it fits. Reason? Scoliosis. I can't bend my back. Reason? Scoliosis. And that crazy 18-inch scar down my back. Reason? Scoliosis. I have compassion for people going through surgeries. Reason? Scoliosis. The list could go on forever, but I think you get the idea.

The truth is, without having this odd deformity of the spine, my life would be different. My character might be different because I wouldn't have had to push through some physically and emotionally traumatic times. I wouldn't have ever begun my benefit concerts for charity if I hadn't been forced to be on the receiving end of it. I wouldn't have been able to help hundreds of people that I have met through my blog and video.

No, scoliosis does not define me in the sense that I allow it to limit me. But yes, scoliosis definitely defines me. My life is never going to be the same, whether I like to believe that at times or not. But I know a loving, wise God who knew it was best to create me with scoliosis. Ultimately, He defines me. And I will use whatever He places in my life-- even scoliosis-- to make Him known.

#straightbackproblems

If you've had a spinal fusion, you may have found yourself in at least one of these situations.

1. First impressions: people always assume you are a snob, gymnast, or pianist because of your impeccable posture.

2. Either pull a muscle in your neck or mess up your hair trying to get in and out of the car.

3. During a play, concert, etc., you hear the people behind you discuss the fact that they can't see.

4. Getting a drink from the fountain: a) Do a fancy squatting yoga-like pose, b) bend forward and let the world deal with the sight, or c) don't get a drink at all.

5. Fall over several times before getting your socks or shoes on.

6. Sitting in chairs either leaning way back behind everyone else or completely sitting forward with your body away from the back of the chair.

7. Like number 6, but then you look down the row and everyone is three feet shorter than you because they are slouching into the backs of their chairs.

8. The head rest in your car is digging into your shoulder blades (for tall people with straight backs!).

9. In a class setting the teacher has the class do the rag doll exercise and you awkwardly try to fit in without people looking at you.

10. No more somersaults. (Trust me, don't try this at home.)

These are just a few of the awkward situations you might find yourself in after having rods screwed into your spine. Frustrating? Once in a while. Stick a hash tag in front, because you just have to laugh about it!

#gotrods?

Curved on Purpose

Anyone who has had a spinal fusion has probably wondered at some point (if not many times), "Was it really worth it?"

I occasionally ask myself the same question, typically in short moments of frustration. These are times when I play volleyball and wish I could play like I used to, when I don't like the way certain clothing looks on me because my back is so straight and stiff, when it hurts because of the rain, when I try to bend over to pick something up and it's difficult, or I lose my balance, or I feel like I look awkward. When it comes down to it, I am too focused on myself. But still, I wonder what my life would be like if I hadn't had 18-inch rods screwed into my spine. Would my scoliosis have gotten worse and caused problems? Would I have lived life normally and never experienced any issues? Then I yank myself out of the world of "what if's" and think about the reasons why scoliosis has been one of God's gracious gifts to me.

My Job

It's funny for me to think that I'm a teacher, because growing up, that was one of the last things I wanted to do. I didn't even enjoy being with kids. I would much rather be with older adults. While lying in bed one night recovering from my surgery, I couldn't sleep. So I thought about school, and how all my friends had graduated. It was boring, and I didn't enjoy it as much as I used to. My friends and I didn't have much to talk about at lunch each day. Then I thought about everything that I had to be thankful for-- my spine is crooked, but I'm not crippled. I may not ever play volleyball again, but I can walk. I may be in pain, but it will heal. Before Christ died, He suffered pain that could never be compared to the small amount I was experiencing. Why? Certainly not for Himself. He is perfect. He did it because we are sinful and need a Savior. And this thought gave me something to hope in.

I went back to school with renewed excitement after seeing how good God truly is. My friends and I started prayer groups and Bible studies. I began eating lunch and hanging out with younger students, and found that I actually enjoyed getting to know them and hopefully impacting them in some way. I knew teaching was what I wanted to do. God put my good, but self-consumed desires of volleyball and music competitions on hold and got me flat on my back for a while so I would just stop and realize what was truly important in life. And there has never been a day of my life that I have regretted choosing a profession that allows me to have an impact on young kids every day.

Graduate School

Because of my competitive, goal-oriented, school-loving nature, I always knew grad school was something I wanted to pursue. The idea of writing a master's thesis was the only thing that really worried me-- and finances, but that's beside the point. I strongly dislike writing and research, but I viewed it as just another obstacle to be tackled.

Then my scoliosis came to the rescue. We had to come up with a current problem in music education. I remembered the difficulties I had playing the clarinet while wearing a back brace. It's true that teachers will do their best to make accommodations for students with needs. We see it all the time. Students in wheelchairs receive special plans so they can participate in the same activities as others. Teachers make larger font size for students with severe vision loss and make visuals for students with hearing loss. But what about students with needs that aren't as obvious? To me, wearing a back brace was obvious. It was difficult to breathe. In fact, it was impossible to breathe correctly, because I could only take shallow chest-breaths. But my teachers didn't know this. And so this July I submitted my 61-page master's thesis: Accommodations for the Effects of Physical Disorders on the Breathing Process While Singing or Playing a Wind Instrument. In the process I got to go back to the same Shriners Hospitals for Children where I had my surgery and take a breathing test and interview a respiratory therapist. I saw how my breathing had improved compared to my pre-surgery breathing tests. I got to go back to my brace doctor from 5th-11th grade and interview him, as well. And in the end, after several presentations, I have raised awareness and contributed a drop in the ocean of music education, all because God saw fit 23 years ago to create me with scoliosis.

My Opportunities

Because of my scoliosis, God gave me a new appreciation for the things I so often take for granted. I realized that others go through trials that are much more difficult than the ones I experience. I found that I love helping hurting people. I began organizing and performing in benefit concerts to raise money and awareness for the Ronald McDonald House Charities, since that is where my parents stayed during the week at the hospital. So far, we have raised over $3,000. (This also happens to look good on a resume, and without having scoliosis, I never would have thought to begin these concerts!) I enjoy blogging about my journey with scoliosis. It has given me some incredible opportunities to meet people I would have never known. I have been able to visit one girl the night before her surgery, go to lunch with another girl, respond to hundreds of emails, and help scoliosis patients and their families through uncertain times that I have already been through. I have started my own Chicago chapter of the Global Scoliosis Foundation.

Is it difficult to live on the other side of a spinal fusion? Yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely. It was no accident that I was born with scoliosis. Only a good, all-knowing, loving God would care enough about my life to create me the way He did. I am curved on purpose.

One Step at a Time

Four 5k's and a 10k in one year. Not bad... for someone who doesn't even really like running.



So let me answer your question before you ask it: "Why on earth would you pay money to run when you don't even like it?"

Good question. And here are my reasons:

1. Most obviously, running is good for you, blah blah blah. Ok. Moving on.

2. Most importantly to me, running is one huge evidence of a successful spinal fusion. Before my surgery, I couldn't even run a whole mile. My spine was compressing my lungs, which made breathing while running very difficult. After surgery my breathing improved, and so did my running. It took lots of running to work up to a 5k, and even more for the 10k. But every mile that I run is a reminder of the blessing it is to be able to run. Some people are stuck in wheelchairs for the rest of their lives. Some are too sick to run. If my scoliosis hadn't been treated, maybe I wouldn't even be able to walk, much less run. But I have the ability, so I do.


3. Running is hard. I love to choose the hard task. I don't always love doing it, but I love the feeling when it's accomplished. Running does not come easy for me like it does for most of my friends. In fact, I thought I was going to throw up after my last 5k. But I had set my mind on running the entire thing. My spine is still not completely straight, so I will never have full lung function. So I'm glad running is difficult. It gives me an opportunity to take a challenge. Anyone can do the easy thing. And "easy" or "hard" is different for every person. But I will never become better-- at what I do, or just as a person in general-- if I don't stretch myself and choose the hard.

4. Running is fun. I still don't love it. But it can be fun! There are so many types of 5k's and 10k's that make it enjoyable, especially to do with friends. So why not make the hard task fun?

I strongly believe that if I had not experienced a spinal fusion, I probably would not have found an outlet in running. But who knows? I do know that God has given me the ability (not necessarily talent, but the ability!) to run, and I don't want to waste it. Every mile-- one step at a time-- is a reminder of God's grace in my life.

5 Years

5 years. It feels like yesterday, but it feels like a dream.

I remember those years in high school, lying in bed, thinking about the day when I would take my brace off for the last time. I would wear clothes that fit, tie my shoes without breaking something, and BREATHE AGAIN. After wearing a brace for 6 years, you get used to it. But I still wished it would come faster than anything else.

And then I would wonder what it would be like to need a spinal fusion. What would it feel like? And the surgery experience? Would I ever regret doing something like that? If I did, there would be no turning back. You can't take the rods out. I thought about all these things. But it didn't matter. It would never happen to me.

5 years ago, I woke up as I was being lifted and set down on the x-ray table. That was the beginning of a long, difficult recovery. But this recovery was a life-changing one for me. It was so painful to do the things that I had never thought twice about, like brushing my teeth, sitting up, rolling over, writing, coughing, sneezing, moving my arms, and the list could go on forever.

And I was right. There was no turning back. And if I had the choice, I wouldn't. My nurses said this is one of the hardest surgeries you could experience. And I would still choose the surgery. I have a new perspective on life that I would have never possessed on my own. Hundreds of people have come to me in times of need, and I have had countless opportunities to come by their side during these hard times. My friends and I have raised $2,700 for the same charities that helped my family during my surgery.

It has been worth every second of it-- even the nights that I couldn't sleep because of the pain... the days I cried because it hurt so much... the frustration of being so dependent on other people, when I should be playing volleyball or ice skating with my friends.

How can I say it was worth it, then? That's the thing. I have no answer, except this: God is good. He knew this would be best for me. In fact, He knew it when He created me with that small curvature in my spine. He knew it when I stood in my closet frustrated to tears because nothing looked normal over my brace. He knew it as I lay on the operating table, with an 18 inch incision, and two rods and 18 screws were being drilled into my spine. He knew it as I lay in the hospital bed, unable to move, and hardly able to speak. And He knew it as I type this blog post, reaching those I've never even met. God is good. Only a good God would allow me to go through hard times in order to change me for the better. And I want to show the world that He is truly good. My only hope is that those who have never experienced His goodness will come to Him.

5 years later, I now stand tall, partially because I have no other choice, but mostly because I am so blessed. Many people live the rest of their lives with emotional scars-- as if the physical one wasn't enough! Memories flood into my mind during this week every year, but memories of thankfulness. I hope I never get used to the fact that God is so good.

Global Scoliosis Foundation of Chicago

This June, I crossed off yet another item off the bucket list: start a scoliosis chapter. As president of this chapter in Chicago, I must hold four main events a year. These events can include fundraisers (my favorite!), educational meetings, social gatherings, etc.

Our first event was a fundraiser for the Ronald McDonald House Charities. A concert featuring movie theme songs and "familiar favorites" raised $865! Coming soon will be a Christmas concert!

If you are interested in following our latest efforts to spread awareness, encourage those with spinal deformities, or raise money for incredible charities, you can like my FaceBook page HERE.

Own Your Strong

And we did. That's the motto of Mudderella, a 6.2 mile run with 12 obstacle courses in the mud.

What would possess someone with two titanium rods and 18 screws to participate in a mud run? Ummm... because it's fun? Before my surgery, I couldn't even run one mile. My spine was pushing on my lungs, and it was too difficult to breathe. Now four years post-op, I've not only been able to run one mile without stopping, but four. So, naturally, it was time to give myself a challenge. I love setting goals and proving to myself that my spinal fusion can't limit me in everything. No, I will never physically be able to bend again, do a somersault, do crunches, or any of those things, and that is exactly why I love to challenge myself in other areas. (And no, Mom, my goal really isn't to see how much I can stress you out.) :)

Now I'm crazy sore, but also feeling very accomplished. What are you challenging yourself to become better at?

Disclaimer: Be sure to ask your doctor what is ok to do. Everyone is different! :)

Getting Better Every Day

When recovering from a spinal fusion, every day is a step of progress from the one before. But now that I'm 4 years post-op, this phrase takes on a new meaning.

During this new year of 2014, I'm taking the challenge of our school's music faculty phrase, "getting better every day." I want to take active steps to keep improving physically, mentally, musically, and so many other areas.

Reflecting on this past year, here are some of the biggest things God has accomplished in my life:
1. Got to meet a girl who contacted me through my blog.
2. Survived student teaching! :)
3. Raised about $600 by hosting a fundraising concert for Ronald McDonald House Charities.
4. Graduated from college with a degree in Music Education.
5. Spent all summer counseling at a camp in North Carolina (which included some very rigorous activities for having two rods in your back!).
6. Got a job teaching music and coaching volleyball and cheerleading-- and loving it!
7. Went with our school's band/choir to play/sing Christmas music at Shriners Hospitals for Children (the same one where I had surgery!).

And here are some of my scoliosis-related New Year's resolutions for 2014:
1. Start a scoliosis support chapter this summer in the Chicago area.
2. Host my third fundraising concert for Ronald McDonald House Charities.
3. Host a fundraising volleyball tournament at my school for Shriners Hospitals for Children.
4. Update my YouTube video so others can see what things are like 4 years after surgery.
5. And any other schemes I come up with as the year goes on!

So what are YOU going to do with the time God has given us? We don't have long, so take some active steps to make a difference-- no matter how small!

                                                  College graduation

                               2013 RMHC fundraising concert

          Met Laura, who was having a spinal fusion the next day in SC

                       SCS trip to Shriners Hospitals for Children

                                Counseling at The Wilds

                               Playing games in the mud at The Wilds

                              Going tubing at The Wilds

                           Playing paintball at The Wilds

Hiking to the falls at The Wilds