Tag: Education

Dear Caregivers: Please Don’t Forget Yourself

Today’s a new day!

Dear Caregivers,

Please take care of yourself.

I know that may sound simple, but for caregivers, it can be one of the hardest things in the world to actually do.

You spend your days worrying about someone else.

Their medications.
Their appointments.
Their meals.
Their pain.
Their bad days.
Their good days.
Their needs.
Their fears.

You become the organizer, advocate, chauffeur, encourager, nurse, protector, prayer warrior, and sometimes the person holding everything together when it feels like everything is falling apart.

And somewhere along the way, you can disappear from your own list of priorities.

Please don’t.

My wonderful bride has been living the life of a caregiver for more than twenty years.

Twenty years.

She has walked beside me through illnesses, doctors, hospitals, treatments, setbacks, victories, fear, uncertainty, and more twists and turns than either of us ever imagined when we said, “I do.”

She is a rockstar.

But even rockstars need rest.

Even the strongest people need someone to lean on.

Even caregivers need caregivers.

And that’s why I want to say something directly to every person reading this who spends their life taking care of someone else:

You are not selfish for taking care of yourself.

You are not selfish for going to your own doctor’s appointments.

You are not selfish for meeting a friend for coffee.

You are not selfish for laughing.

You are not selfish for taking a walk.

You are not selfish for taking an afternoon or weekend off.

You are not selfish for asking someone else to step in.

You are not selfish for saying, “I need help.”

In fact, asking for help may be one of the most responsible things you can do.

Because you cannot pour from an empty cup forever.

I have heard the statistic that 64% of caregivers die before the person they are caring for. Whether that exact number applies universally or not, the warning behind it is very real: caregiving can take an enormous physical, emotional, and spiritual toll.

Did you catch that?

The person taking care of everyone else can become so exhausted that they forget they are a person who needs care, too.

So, dear caregiver, let me remind you of something:

Your life matters, too.

Your health matters.

Your mental and emotional well-being matters.

Your friendships matter.

Your dreams matter.

Your laughter matters.

Your time with God matters.

Your rest matters.

You matter.

Please don’t wait until your body forces you to stop.

Go to the doctor.

Take the medication you need.

Get some sleep.

Eat something.

Drink some water.

Call a friend.

Go outside.

Take a breath.

Pray.

Cry if you need to.

Laugh when you can.

And when someone says, “How can I help?”—please don’t automatically answer, “I’m fine.”

Maybe give them something they can actually do.

“Can you sit with them for a couple of hours?”

“Can you bring us dinner?”

“Can you drive us to this appointment?”

“Can you just come over and let me talk?”

Let people love you.

Because caregiving was never meant to be a one-person job.

My bride has taught me so much about love through the way she has cared for me for more than two decades. But I don’t want her—or any caregiver—to lose themselves while caring for someone they love.

You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove that you love someone.

Read that again.

You don’t have to destroy yourself to prove that you love someone.

Taking care of yourself doesn’t mean you love the person you’re caring for any less.

It means you’re giving yourself a better chance to keep walking beside them.

So, to every husband, wife, son, daughter, parent, sibling, friend, or stranger who has quietly become somebody’s caregiver:

I see you.

I appreciate you.

I honor you.

And I’m asking you—please take care of yourself.

Ask for help.

Accept help.

Make the doctor’s appointment.

Call your friends.

Take the day off when you can.

Sit somewhere quiet.

Take a deep breath.

And remember that you are more than the role you have been given.

You are a human being, not just a caregiver.

You deserve to live, too.

Because the goal isn’t simply to survive caregiving.

The goal is for both of you to keep living.

So, dear caregivers…

Please don’t forget yourself while you’re taking care of someone else.

You are needed.

You are loved.

You are valuable.

And yes—

you matter, too. ~OC

0

Racial Violence. Death. Hanging. Silence.

Tasia Fortune was found hanging.

I do not believe it was suicide.

But if you believe this was a suicide, then you should still demand that every question be answered. If there are circumstances that raise questions about whether her death was truly a suicide, then those questions deserve a real, independent investigation—not dismissal, not silence, and not another case quietly filed away.

Mississippi has a painful history of Black people dying under circumstances that have left families and communities demanding answers. For decades, deaths involving trees, ropes, and hanging have carried the horrifying shadow of America’s history of racial terror.

And now, in 2026, we are still having these conversations.

That should disturb every one of us.

Dear White Community: silence is not neutrality when people are demanding justice.

You don’t have to know every fact to demand that the facts be uncovered.

You don’t have to have all the answers to stand beside a grieving family.

And you don’t have to wait until something happens to someone you love before you decide that every human life deserves the same level of scrutiny, dignity, and protection.

Demand a real investigation.

Demand independent oversight.

Demand federal review when circumstances warrant it.

Demand transparency.

And demand that our laws be strong enough that justice is never dependent upon someone’s race, wealth, power, ZIP code, or political connections.

This isn’t about jumping to conclusions.

It’s about refusing to accept unanswered questions when a human being is dead.

It’s about refusing to let history repeat itself in silence.

It’s about making sure that when a Black person dies under suspicious or disputed circumstances, the response isn’t:

“Move along. Nothing to see here.”

No!

We have something to see.

We have questions to ask.

We have families to hear.

We have institutions to hold accountable.

And we have a moral obligation to insist that  every death deserves the truth.

Because justice delayed is painful.

Justice denied is devastating.

But justice ignored is a choice.

And silence is a choice, too.

Choose to speak.
Choose to ask questions.
Choose to demand the truth. ~OC

0

My Medical Rap Sheet Doesn’t Get The Final Word

Today’s a new day!

Here is my medical rap sheet.

  • Crippling Arthritis — 2002 (Ended up being cancer)
  • Cancer — 2003
  • Parkinson’s Disease — 2007
  • Myasthenia Gravis — 2009
  • Gastroparesis — 2015
  • COVID Long Haulers — 2022
  • Type Two Diabetes 202 (medication induced)
  • Cluster and Migraine Headaches — 2024
  • Dementia — 2024

Looking at that list, many people would probably assume my life is over.

They would assume the best years are behind me. That my dreams have ended. That all that’s left is surviving.

But they would be wrong.

Every single day, I choose life.

I choose to keep making memories with my beautiful bride of twenty-six years. I choose to laugh, to love, and to appreciate the moments that many people rush past.

I choose to continue advocating for other patients who need someone to remind them that they are more than a diagnosis.

I choose to keep fighting against human trafficking because there are people who desperately need hope, justice, and someone willing to stand in the gap.

Does that mean this health journey is easy?

Absolutely not.

There are days filled with pain. Days of exhaustion. Days when my body reminds me of every diagnosis on that list.

But years ago, I made a decision.

This health battle would never become my identity.

My diagnoses describe some of the battles I face—they do not define the man I am.

I refuse to allow illness to steal my purpose. I refuse to let disease dictate my joy. I refuse to surrender the calling God has placed on my life simply because my body doesn’t always cooperate.

Instead, I choose to keep living.

I choose to keep loving.

I choose to keep serving.

I choose to keep overcoming.

If you’re walking through a battle today—whether it’s a health crisis, grief, depression, financial hardship, addiction, or something no one else can see—I want to encourage you.

Don’t let your battle become your identity.

Keep fighting.

Keep making memories.

Keep dreaming.

Keep showing up.

Keep loving the people around you.

Live your life to the fullest, even if it looks different than you once imagined.

Champions aren’t defined by the battles they face.

They’re defined by the courage to keep getting back up.

So today…

Choose hope.

Choose purpose.

Choose joy.

Choose life.

And whatever comes your way, keep overcoming.

Live like a champion. ~OC

0

Chronic Illness Is Not A Sin

Today’s a new day!

As I have walked this crazy beautiful health journey, I have had more than one person ask me what sin do I have in my life, that would cause me to be chronically ill. I have also had more than one person question my faith based on my health issues.

A dangerous lie found its way into the Church and the Christian community: if you’re sick, you must have done something wrong. If you just had enough faith, prayed harder, or lived a holier life, your illness would disappear.

But that isn’t the message of Jesus.

Chronic illness is not a sin.

Living with long-term condition is not evidence that God has abandoned you. It is not proof that your faith is weak. It is not a punishment for hidden sin.

We live in a fallen world where sickness exists because of the brokenness brought about by sin entering creation—not because every illness is directly tied to an individual’s personal sin.

Jesus repeatedly challenged this misconception. When His disciples asked whether a blind man had sinned or whether his parents had sinned, Jesus answered, “Neither this man nor his parents sinned” (John 9:3). Instead of assigning blame, Jesus demonstrated the compassion and power of God.

Think about the Apostle Paul. He pleaded with God three times to remove his “thorn in the flesh,” yet God responded, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” Paul wasn’t being punished. God was revealing His strength through a life that knew weakness.

The Bible is filled with faithful people who endured suffering. Job suffered immensely. Timothy battled recurring health problems. Trophimus was left sick. These men were not outside of God’s will—they were walking faithfully with Him.

The Church must stop treating chronic illness as a spiritual failure.

Instead of asking, “What sin caused this?” perhaps we should ask, “How can we carry this person’s burden?” Instead of offering shame, we should offer prayer. Instead of judgment, we should offer compassion. Instead of simplistic answers, we should simply sit beside someone and remind them they are deeply loved by God.

Some of the strongest believers I know are those who worship through pain every single day. They continue to trust Jesus when healing hasn’t come. They continue to serve even when their bodies won’t cooperate. Their faith isn’t smaller because of their illness—it often shines even brighter because of it.

Healing is real, and we should never stop praying for miracles. God still heals. But whether healing comes today, years from now, or ultimately in eternity, God’s love does not change.

Your diagnosis does not define your value.

Your disability does not diminish your purpose.

Your limitations do not limit God.

If you are living with a chronic illness today, hear this truth: You are not forgotten. You are not being punished. You are not a second-class Christian.

You are still called.

You are still loved.

You are still valuable.

And God can use your life in ways you may never fully understand this side of heaven.

Chronic illness is not a sin.

It may be part of your story, but it is never the end of it. Jesus is. ~OC

0

I Was Created To Overcome

Today’s a new day!

There are moments in life when the weight of the battle tries to convince us that we were created to surrender. Pain whispers that we’re finished. Disappointment tells us our best days are behind us. Fear insists that the mountain in front of us is too high to climb.

But God says something completely different.

I was created to overcome.

That isn’t positive thinking. It isn’t pretending life is easy. It’s a declaration rooted in the character of God.

Jesus never promised His followers a life free from hardship. He promised His presence in the middle of it. He said, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” Because He overcame, those who belong to Him are called to live as overcomers—not by their own strength, but through His.

Overcoming doesn’t always look the way we expect.

Sometimes overcoming is standing after you’ve fallen.

Sometimes it’s praying when heaven seems silent.

Sometimes it’s choosing forgiveness when bitterness would be easier.

Sometimes it’s worshiping through tears.

Sometimes it’s simply getting out of bed and trusting God for one more day.

The world often measures victory by comfort, success, or popularity. God measures victory by faithfulness.

I’ve learned that the greatest victories are often invisible to everyone else. They’re found in the quiet moments when you decide that your circumstances will not define your faith. They’re found when you refuse to let suffering steal your hope. They’re found when you continue to believe God’s promises even when you can’t yet see their fulfillment.

Every scar tells a story.

Every trial has taught a lesson.

Every valley has revealed another side of God’s faithfulness.

Looking back, I can see that the battles I wanted to avoid became the places where God shaped my character the most. He didn’t waste the pain. He used it to produce perseverance, deepen my faith, and remind me that His grace truly is sufficient.

The enemy wants you to believe that your struggle is your identity.

God says your identity is found in Christ.

The enemy says you’re defeated.

God says you’re more than a conqueror.

The enemy points to your weakness.

God points to His strength made perfect in weakness.

The difference between those two voices determines how we live.

Being an overcomer doesn’t mean we never struggle. It means we never struggle alone.

The same God who walked with Daniel in the lions’ den, stood with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego in the fiery furnace, strengthened Paul in prison, and raised Jesus from the dead is still at work today. His power has not diminished. His promises have not expired. His love has not failed.

So whatever battle you’re facing today, remember this:

You were not created to be defined by your diagnosis.

You were not created to be imprisoned by your past.

You were not created to live in fear.

You were not created to surrender to despair.

You were created to glorify God by trusting Him through every season.

You were created to overcome.

One day, every battle will end. Every tear will be wiped away. Every broken thing will be made new. Until that day, we keep walking, keep believing, keep praying, and keep pointing others to the One who has already won the ultimate victory.

When life asks who you are, don’t answer with your failures or your fears.

Answer with confidence:

I am a child of God. I belong to Jesus Christ. And by His grace, I was created to overcome. ~OC

0

Dear Parkinson’s Community

Dear Parkinson’s Community,

I wanted to see if there would be interest in starting a weekly or monthly Zoom gathering for our Parkinson’s community.

The vision is simple: to discuss the latest developments in Parkinson’s research and treatment, share practical insights, encourage one another, and remind each other that no one has to walk this journey alone.

This group would be open to:

  • People living with Parkinson’s disease
  • Caregivers and family members
  • Medical professionals
  • Anyone who has lost a loved one to Parkinson’s

Whether you’re newly diagnosed, have been living with Parkinson’s for years, care for someone with the disease, or simply want to learn and support others, you are welcome.

If this is something you would be interested in, please leave a comment below or send me a direct message. If there’s enough interest, I’ll begin organizing our first Zoom meeting.

Together, we can learn, encourage one another, and find hope for the road ahead.

You are not alone. ~OC

0

More Questions Than Answers

When I was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease in 2007, my world changed in an instant.

Like so many others, I immediately began asking the questions we all ask after receiving life-changing news. What caused this? Could I have prevented it?

One thing stood out immediately: there was no family history of Parkinson’s disease.

No parents.
No grandparents.
No siblings.
No known relatives.

That didn’t answer the question—it only deepened the mystery.

Looking Beyond Genetics

For many years, Parkinson’s was often thought of as a disease that was primarily genetic. We now know that while genetics can play a role for some people, the majority of Parkinson’s cases are considered sporadic, meaning they occur without a clear inherited cause.

Researchers increasingly believe that Parkinson’s develops through a combination of genetics and environmental exposures. For many of us, the environment may play a much larger role than we once realized.

That realization raises important questions.

What have we been exposed to over a lifetime?

Pesticides.
Industrial chemicals.
Solvents.
Air pollution.
Contaminated water.
Heavy metals.

Scientists continue to study how long-term exposure to these and other environmental factors may increase the risk of developing Parkinson’s disease. While research is ongoing and not every case has the same cause, the growing body of evidence suggests that our surroundings matter.

We Need to Pay Attention

This isn’t about creating fear.

It’s about creating awareness.

If environmental factors contribute to Parkinson’s disease, then we should be investing far more into understanding those risks, reducing harmful exposures where possible, and protecting future generations.

We cannot change yesterday.

But perhaps we can change tomorrow.

That means funding more research.
Supporting environmental health initiatives.
Helping identify communities at higher risk.
And continuing to ask difficult questions until we find better answers.

My Journey

Nearly twenty years after my diagnosis, I’ve lived through far more than I ever imagined.

Parkinson’s became only one chapter in a much larger health journey that has also included Myasthenia Gravis and many other unexpected challenges.

I’ve experienced seasons of strength and seasons of weakness.

There have been victories, setbacks, miracles, disappointments, and countless lessons along the way.

If I’ve learned anything, it’s this:

A diagnosis may change your life, but it does not define your life.

I am still here.

I still have purpose.

I still believe God is writing my story.

A Call for Hope and Action

As someone living with Parkinson’s, I hope that one day we won’t simply ask how to manage this disease—we’ll know how to prevent many cases before they ever begin.

That will require courageous research.
Honest conversations.
Environmental responsibility.
And a commitment to putting people ahead of convenience or profit.

My prayer is that future generations will benefit from the questions my generation has had to ask.

Until then, I’ll continue sharing my story.

Because every story matters.

Every patient matters.

Every family matters.

And every step we take toward understanding Parkinson’s disease brings us one step closer to hope.

“We may not know exactly why every person develops Parkinson’s disease, but we owe it to those living with it—and to those who come after us—to keep searching for answers. Hope grows wherever truth is pursued.” ~OC

0

Life With Purpose

Today’s a new day!

Twenty-four years ago, I never imagined the road my life would take.

If someone had told me I would spend decades walking through cancer, Parkinson’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, a stroke, gastroparesis, early-stage Lewy Body Dementia, countless hospital stays, surgeries, treatments, and more doctor’s appointments than I could ever count, I probably would have wondered how anyone could endure that much.

The truth is, there have been days when I wondered the same thing.

There have been moments when fear tried to take over. There have been seasons of grief as I watched abilities I once took for granted slowly disappear. As a former marathon runner, I remember what it felt like to run mile after mile with freedom. Today, every step is a reminder that life has changed.

But here’s what I’ve discovered.

I couldn’t choose my diagnoses, but I could choose what I did with them.

Somewhere along this journey, God began changing my perspective. Instead of asking, “Lord, why is this happening to me?” I found myself asking, “Lord, how can You use this for Your glory?”

That question changed everything.

Purpose doesn’t eliminate pain, but it gives pain eternal significance.

Some of the most powerful moments of my faith haven’t happened in church buildings. They’ve happened in emergency rooms, hospital rooms, intensive care units, doctor’s offices, and quiet moments when all I could do was whisper the name of Jesus.

I’ve experienced frightening hallucinations brought on by Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. They were unlike anything I had ever known. Yet even in those moments, when my mind should have been consumed with fear, God filled it with peace and worship. Songs came flooding into my heart. Instead of darkness having the final word, Jesus reminded me that His presence reaches places illness never can.

Those songs eventually became Songs in the Battle.

What the enemy intended to use to discourage me, God transformed into worship.

In 2019, during surgery, God gave me a glimpse of Heaven that forever changed how I see suffering. I experienced a place more beautiful than words could ever describe. I had no pain. I had a new body. I didn’t want to leave.

Then I heard these words:

“Not yet, my son. I have more work for you to complete.”

When I woke up in recovery pointing toward Heaven, I knew my life no longer belonged to me. It belonged completely to the One who had sent me back.

That experience didn’t remove my health challenges.

It gave them purpose.

I’ve learned that ministry isn’t confined to a platform or a microphone. Sometimes ministry looks like encouraging another patient in a waiting room. Sometimes it’s praying for a nurse who has had an exhausting shift. Sometimes it’s simply choosing joy when your circumstances make no sense.

Every diagnosis has become another opportunity to testify to God’s faithfulness.

Every setback has become another opportunity to trust Him.

Every scar has become another reminder that God is still writing my story.

I’ve also learned that weakness isn’t the opposite of usefulness.

The world measures people by what they can produce. God measures us by our willingness to trust Him. Scripture reminds us that His power is made perfect in weakness. Looking back, I can honestly say I’ve often experienced God’s strength most clearly when I had none of my own.

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s that purpose isn’t determined by our physical abilities. It’s determined by our willingness to surrender whatever we have to God.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment will bring.

I don’t know what new challenge may be waiting around the corner.

But I do know this:

As long as God gives me breath, I want every breath to point someone toward Jesus.

If my story gives hope to someone newly diagnosed…

If it encourages a caregiver who is exhausted…

If it reminds someone that miracles still happen—even when they don’t look the way we expected…

If it helps one person discover that Jesus never abandons us in our suffering…

Then every difficult day has eternal value.

I have made the choice to live out my health issues with purpose.

Not because this journey has been easy.

Not because I enjoy suffering.

But because I have seen, time and time again, that God never wastes a surrendered life.

My health challenges are part of my testimony, but they are not my identity.

My identity is found in Jesus Christ.

And as long as He continues to write my story, I will keep telling the world that hope is alive, miracles still happen, and no diagnosis is greater than the faithfulness of God. ~OC

0

Everyone Belongs

This week marks the 36th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), a landmark moment in our nation’s history.

The Americans with Disabilities Act was more than a piece of legislation. It was a declaration that every person has inherent worth, dignity, and the right to fully participate in society. It challenged barriers that had excluded millions of Americans and affirmed that disability should never determine a person’s value or limit their opportunity.

While we have made significant progress over the past 36 years, the journey is far from over.

Too many people with disabilities still encounter physical barriers, employment discrimination, inaccessible healthcare, transportation challenges, and attitudes that underestimate their gifts and potential. True accessibility is about more than ramps and parking spaces—it is about creating a culture where every person is welcomed, respected, and empowered to thrive.

As someone who has spent years walking through significant health challenges, I have experienced firsthand both the compassion of others and the obstacles that still exist. I have also learned that disability does not diminish purpose. It does not erase calling. It does not prevent God from working through our lives in powerful ways.

The Church has a unique opportunity to lead by example. We should be the first to ensure that people with disabilities are not merely accommodated but fully embraced as essential members of the Body of Christ. Every gift matters. Every voice matters. Every life matters.

The ADA reminds us of an important truth: inclusion is not charity—it is justice. And for those of us who follow Jesus, it is also an expression of His heart. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus consistently welcomed those whom society overlooked, reminding us that every person bears the image of God.

As we reflect on the legacy of the Americans with Disabilities Act, may we celebrate how far we’ve come while recommitting ourselves to building communities where every person can flourish with dignity, opportunity, and hope.

Let’s continue removing barriers—not just in our buildings, but in our hearts.

Because everyone belongs. ~OC

0

Good Trouble for the Church

Today’s a new day!

The late Congressman and civil rights leader John Lewis left us with a simple but powerful challenge: “Get into good trouble, necessary trouble.”Get His words were never an invitation to create chaos. They were a call to courage—to stand for what is right when remaining silent would be easier.

As I look at the state of the American Church today, I can’t help but wonder if we need a little more good trouble.

I love the Church. I believe Jesus established the Church to be the hope of the world, a place where broken people discover healing, where sinners find grace, where the lonely find family, and where the Gospel transforms lives. My concern doesn’t come from a lack of love—it comes because I love the Church too much to stay silent when I see it drifting from its mission.

Too often, it seems many churches and Christian leaders have become more passionate about politics than about the Gospel. We know how to defend a political party, but do we defend the forgotten? We know how to argue over elections, but do we weep over the lost? We rally around candidates, but are we rallying around the Cross?

The Gospel was never meant to be wrapped in a political or American flag.

Jesus didn’t tell His followers to seek political power. He told them to deny themselves, take up their cross, and follow Him. He welcomed the outsider, touched the untouchable, defended the marginalized, and proclaimed good news to the poor. His ministry consistently crossed cultural, social, and political boundaries because His Kingdom was never confined by them.

The Church should be known first for its love—not its voting record.

Perhaps it’s time for some “Good Trouble.”

The kind of good trouble that speaks up when refugees are treated without dignity.

The kind of good trouble that refuses to ignore the hungry, the homeless, the disabled, the widow, the orphan, and the immigrant because Scripture refuses to ignore them.

The kind of good trouble that challenges churches to be known more for compassion than for culture wars.

The kind of good trouble that reminds us our neighbors are not our enemies.

The kind of good trouble that chooses the teachings of Jesus over political talking points.

This isn’t about choosing the political left or the political right. It’s about choosing the narrow road that Jesus called us to walk. The Kingdom of God has never fit neatly inside any political platform.

The early Church changed the world without controlling governments. They changed it because they loved radically, served sacrificially, shared generously, and proclaimed Christ boldly. They cared for plague victims, rescued abandoned children, fed the hungry, and welcomed those society rejected. Their witness wasn’t built on political influence—it was built on Christlike love.

Imagine if today’s Church became known once again for that kind of faith.

Imagine communities where every person—regardless of race, nationality, economic status, disability, or political affiliation—knew they would be welcomed because they bear the image of God.

Imagine churches where serving the poor mattered as much as winning debates.

Imagine Christians who were recognized not by the politicians they defended, but by the Savior they followed.

That’s the kind of good trouble our generation desperately needs.

The Gospel is still good news.

The Cross is still enough.

The Church still has the opportunity to be the light of the world—but only if we remember whose Kingdom we belong to.

May we have the courage to lovingly challenge what needs challenging, to speak truth with grace, and to follow Jesus wherever He leads—even when it costs us comfort, popularity, or influence.

If that causes a little good trouble, perhaps that’s exactly where the Church needs to be. ~OC

0

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑