“I know I can survive any situation, it may be hard, but I can do it.”

I spent the last several days at UAB with Ricky, it seems like fighting for his right to the care he truly deserves. My days are spent praying a lot, giving him manicures and pedicures, reading him miracle stories from the Bible, and pampering his spoiled self.

We are tired, and as I mentioned in my last post, the fatigue has settled in, but I’m not complaining; instead, I find a sense of purpose in this journey. I know 100 percent that if the roles were reversed and it was me lying in that hospital bed, Ricky would undoubtedly be fighting relentlessly for me, just as we have been doing for him.

Tonight, I came home and started reading Ricky’s NA Step Workbook, seeking solace and insight in its pages. A particular quote jumped out at me and resonated deeply within my heart. It reminded me of a time when I was caught in a terrible relationship that seemed to drain the very life out of me.

For several painful months, I found myself isolated, feeling lost and broken both mentally and physically. I wasn’t even allowed to answer my phone when my family called.

Then one evening, out of the blue, I heard a knock on my apartment door. I cautiously looked outside, and to my surprise, there stood my big brother. Although Ricky has never been one to engage in physical fights, that day he was ready to stand up and fight for me. My abuser, sensing the impending confrontation, went and hid in the bedroom after threatening me and instructing me to get rid of my brother. I spoke to Ricky through the door and promised him that I would find a way to escape the dire situation I was trapped in. The very next day, with newfound clarity and determination, I took the courageous step to get out. Seeing my big brother that evening was exactly what I needed to ignite the strength within me to break free. It was hard, but I did it.

I often find myself quietly observing Ricky in his room, and wondering deeply about the thoughts swirling around in his mind. Is he thinking, “You idiot, get out of my face”? Or perhaps he’s thinking, “Stop cutting my fingernails and toenails.” Even more intriguingly, could he be reflecting, “I know I can survive any situation; it may be hard, but I absolutely can do it”?

As most people know all too well by now, we were told after Ricky suffered his first stroke and then a heart attack that we should remove the ventilator and Ricky to pass away in what they call a “compassionate” death. The doctors claimed that his life wouldn’t have any “purpose.” However, from the very moment they began their procedures on me, I turned to prayer, pleading and begging God to spare my brother and not take him away from us.

Miraculously, we have witnessed a massive blood clot dissolve without any medication; we have seen Ricky breath on his own without the assistance of any machines; and we have witnessed movement returning in parts of his body that medical professionals had told us would never be able to move again. Just yesterday, Ricky impressively picked Erik out of the room with his eyes right after I wrote and said the name Erik. Today, I had the remarkable experience of watching Ricky use his tongue to push secretions out of his mouth, and I observed him slightly raise his right leg and move it over twice throughout the day. Additionally, I witnessed him turn his head away in response to something—a subtle yet significant action. These instances aren’t just simple coincidences; they are, without a doubt, miracles. Miracles that God has granted not only to Ricky but to our entire family. Ricky’s “purpose,” my purpose, and your purpose in life aren’t dictated by what a doctor asserts or claims. In the end, it is God who has the final say in all the challenging situations we face.

We had the best nightshift nurse over the course of the last several nights. Her attentive care for Ricky truly allowed me to find some much-needed rest. Each night, I felt a deep sense of reassurance that he was being cared for in the same tender manner that I would have done myself. Her name was Larel, and she undoubtedly deserves a gold medal for her exceptional dedication. A few nights ago, as I was sitting quietly in Ricky’s room, it struck me that Larel shared the same last name as both Ricky and me. Naturally, I had to ask her about her family's origins to determine if there might be any connection between us. During that conversation, I mentioned our father. Specifically, I spoke of one of my three dads and Ricky’s biological father, Craig. Craig was indeed an addict, but he also served as an incredible father figure. Despite his struggles, he took care of us as children, even while grappling with addiction. Anyway, as I began to recount stories about him, I noticed that Ricky looked at me with such intensity, it felt as though he could strangle me with his gaze alone, and this expression persisted until I finally stopped discussing him. It truly puzzles me how someone who “will never understand language again” can still give me looks that could kill. God…. That’s how.

We don’t spend much time in the waiting room anymore since Ricky is no longer in intensive care, which brings us some relief. Most of our days are now spent directly in his hospital room, right by his side, supporting him through this journey. This evening, while Ricky was being cleaned up, I took a moment to step outside and sit. During this time, I met a family who was facing a devastating challenge—their daughter, a sister and friend, had been tragically run over by an abusive ex-husband. Her sister shared a troubling opinion, saying, “I don’t buy the whole addiction thing.” Of course, that sparked something within me, and I felt compelled to share my own truth, explaining that my brother is a recovering addict. He is a recovering addict who, during my teenage years, went to great lengths to protect me from the darkness of addiction, even resorting to threats against those who might lead me down that path. I told her that unfortunately, addiction and abuse often go hand in hand; it’s a difficult choice that once made can sometimes spiral out of one’s control. I assured her that we would be lifting her sister and her sister’s children in our prayers, and we will follow through on that promise.

The Corley’s were able to celebrate the twin’s birthday this weekend. I know it was a hard one, but we know that Brayden had the absolute best birthday ever in heaven. I believe that my niece Savannah and my brother Jason probably met him and held a special party for him, I almost guarantee they did. This family will always be a huge part of our journey.

Nicole and J are doing well over at the Children's Hospital. She still has several more weeks of recovery ahead before being released, but we are encouraged by the progress she is making every single day. J will always hold a special place in our family's heart, as she is truly a miracle in the making. She and her mom are family to us.

Meanwhile, Jackson Cox and his loving family are still on the 9th floor. Jackson is beginning to move a little more day by day, a clear testament to the strength of the human spirit and God’s amazing work. He is a miracle.

Greysen is currently fighting an infection in his body, and we are fervently praying for that infection to disappear and for him to regain his strength. His parents are missing their boy, as well as their other children.

In the past week, we also mourned the loss of Leilani, Tim and Aaron’s father, John Calloway, whose funeral took place just this past week. Mr. Calloway had a profound impact on those around him, and he continued to touch lives through his children during his time with us on the 8th floor. He had expressed his wish to pass away at home, a desire that was respected and made possible thanks to the love and dedication of his children. We continue to pray for peace and comfort to surround his children as they navigate this difficult time of grief.

When you pray for Ricky, please also pray for God to continue providing miracles in our lives and in the lives of those we hold dear. Kindly remember J, Jackson, Greysen, and the family of Mr. Calloway in your thoughts and prayers.

Also a heartfelt Happy Birthday to the glue that continues to hold us all together, our mom.