The Hospital Stay That Changed My Life

In the late summer and early fall of 2024, a profound shift began happening in my life.

I was hospitalized for the second time with ulcerative colitis. This time felt much scarier and much darker. The first time I was hospitalized, I wasn’t a mom yet, and I was only extremely sick for about two months. This time, I had a two-year-old daughter, and I had been sick for nearly six months before being admitted to the hospital.

I was already on medication for UC, but it wasn’t working. I felt isolated, exhausted, and like there wasn’t much more I could take. One of the hardest parts about chronic illness is how quickly life can change. You can go years feeling normal, and then suddenly your body no longer feels safe or stable. It’s frightening. It’s depressing. It fills you with anxiety.

By the time I was hospitalized, I had stopped eating entirely and was placed on a liquid diet. After the third day in the hospital with no improvement, I was devastated. It was the darkest and most desperate day of my life. I missed my husband. I missed my daughter. I missed playing with my child and even doing the everyday tasks that once felt annoying.

In the middle of that breakdown, something pushed me to pray.

That wasn’t something I normally did. My faith had been inconsistent for years. I had always gravitated more toward “new age” spirituality because it felt comforting and easy — reaching for crystals instead of praying to a God who, at the time, felt distant or judgmental to me.

But that Wednesday morning, I met God again in my adult life — the real, loving, all-powerful God.

I prayed that I would get better. I prayed that I wouldn’t need surgery. I prayed that I could stay with my family. I wept, and He comforted me. I was not alone in that hospital room. I felt His presence so strongly. I confessed my sins, apologized for turning away from Him, and told Him I would never turn my back again.

What began as the darkest morning of my life became the best day of my life, because that was the day I was saved.

The next day, my body began improving, and I was discharged that Friday.

But God didn’t stop there. He was just getting started.

My husband was a very outspoken atheist, and I was nervous to tell him what had happened. I thought he would think I was crazy. Maybe he did a little, but he was kind about it. Still, he made it clear he absolutely did not want to go to church.

A few months passed. It was around December. I had started reading my Bible, doing devotionals, and learning how to pray again. Then I began feeling strongly pulled toward church, but I had no idea how my husband would respond.

The day I finally decided I was going to talk to him about it, he told me he needed to talk to me first.

Later that night, he told me that he wanted to start going to church. He said God had been showing up in his thoughts like a guiding voice and that he was ready to change.

We were both overwhelmed by God’s timing.

We had both reached a place of exhaustion. The way we had been living wasn’t working anymore. I had spent years trying to fill a void with things like alcohol, shopping, vacations, validation, and distractions. None of it satisfied me for long.

Nothing truly helped until I found God — or maybe more accurately, until He found me.

Now I feel whole. I feel complete. I could drop to my knees every day overwhelmed with gratitude for the love and mercy of our Father.

If you are questioning, hurting, or feeling lost, I hope my testimony encourages you. God is waiting for you, and He welcomes you with open arms.

For a long time, politics and Christian nationalism kept me away from faith. But I’ve learned that God’s love is bigger than politics. His desire is for all people to be saved. God is for everyone.