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Don’t Sink Creative, Clermont, FL (2026)

07/11/2025

Four years ago ….

Four years ago First Responders carried me on a stretcher out of my home. My then 14 year old watching from the kitchen. Me too not knowing if I would ever come home again. Me too praying I would.

C19-pneumonia had taken over my lungs, just 10 short days after my first symptom. I did make it home, only to be re-admitted one week later with a C19-provoked pulmonary embolism that also trashed my left ankle joint as it made its way through my heart and into my left lung. One in three people survive a PE. I spent the next year fighting many bouts of viral pneumonia, a couple more rounds of C19, and searched for myself among the endless doctor appointments, hospitalizations, and trials.

As I was in the illness and recovery journey, I was still recovering from 6 hand and wrist surgeries in 2020; plus six nerve blocks for pain management. A total of two years in Occupational Therapy, which I even did while lying in that CCU hospital room! I remember thinking, “if I survive this, my hand won’t suffer because of it!”

In 2023 I even ended up having shoulder surgery (after a freak accident), and months later a left thyroidectomy which also removed a large benign mass (a side effect of the medication that actually helped save my life). No complaints; and thankful to this day my solo thyroid is working perfectly!

All of 2020 through 2023 I spent five days a week in physical and or occupational therapy, and praying “one day I will feel like me again.”

Fast forward ….

Almost a year and a half ago ….

What you likely don’t know is one year ago (April 9th) I fell in my kitchen. Another trauma, so pain-filled I couldn’t even write about it; and only told a very few.

I tripped on our dog. It was 9pm but it wasn’t particularly dark in the house. I was doing dishes one minute, and screaming in pain the next. Fast forward, I had avulsion fractures of both elbows, multiple traumatic injuries to my right quad to tibia, traumatic bone bruising to my left knee, and jacked up hips. Worst of all was the pain to my soul. In that moment I hadn’t felt pain so deeply in my life, and I instantly felt the depth of how much I’ve been hiding the last 6 years.

My ortho asked me “why did you fall?” I said, “I am deeply grieving, scared, utterly exhausted, and completely emotionally distracted.” He then asked why I fell, trashing my left knee which needed surgery (by him) in 2015, and my answer was exactly the same. Different core reasons but yet the same.

He then said, “If you had hit your head the way you hit your knees (twice) we wouldn’t be having this conversation. I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to get your sh$& together and figure this out before a future fall kills you.”

In the blink of an eye, the moment I fell 16 months ago, and in the moment he said those words I knew what was needing to come next.

I needed to take back control of me.

I needed to stop living in a constant state of panic.

I needed to replace a lot of things with the Truth of God.

I needed to review where I’m at and to work hard to forge a new path to follow.

I needed to take care of me first and foremost, and so in turn I could take better care of my daughter.

I needed to surrender a lot of things.

I needed to assume responsibility for my action and inaction, and I needed to forgive others for theirs.

I needed to read some books, listen to some podcasts, and dig deep into some old Bible Study Journals.

I needed to find Truth again, and embrace it.

I needed to get my power back.

And I have.

I am down almost 60 pounds (in 16 months), all done through proper nutrition and motion! (It’s remarkable how much of self can be found when you MOVE and properly FUEL your body!)

A few weeks after my fall, I asked my P*P for help with “deep and debilitating cellular level stress that is painful.” Not depression, stress. We researched together, and I started on Metformin (1000mg in morning); as recent studies show it’s good for cellular level stress. I’m proof those studies are spot on! Within a week the physical pain of stress was gone, 100% gone. A year later it remains gone. To be clear, not the stress gone but the deep physical pain of it; which also has helped my focus and energy.

A few months later, in June, I called my P*P to circle back to another issue and we discussed researched options once again. I started 7.5mg of Miratzapine (aka Remeron) that night. Taken one hour before my head hits the pillow, it doesn’t knock me out, it helps the mind-racing anxiety quiet so I can drift off peacefully to sleep. It’s not even classified as a “sleeping” med as it doesn’t affect respiration. I’ve slept mostly great every night since then.

Side Bar: Did you know most sleeping meds are both addictive and lower respiration; which is why they are addictive - because your body gets used to the lowered O2 levels, and when you try to stop taking it your heart and mind race from the fluctuating O2 levels and “wants” the medicine.

A year ago, in July, I had a mild bout of Covid (yes, again; my 4th). A few weeks later my 2021 post-Covid tachycardia was back; and because of my history, I was admitted for 24 hours. Thank God everything was great. My cardiologist, I hadn’t seen in a year, added back one med and said, “you’re just one of the people who get tachycardia when they get Covid, one day we might know why.”

In December I followed up with my cardiologist and he said “your stats overall are the best they have been in 5 years! All the things you’re doing, keep going.”

I also get regular massages, which have helped detox 5 years of hardcore meds and anesthetics. The massages also have helped to heal my soul, thanks to all the hands-on gifts of my beautiful friend Lindsey at Rootedhandswellness - Deep Roots Massage

I stopped using all technology an hour before bedtime, and listen to Spotify Binaural Beats for Deep Sleep for a bit then I turn that off too …. and I count to four. Yes, four. Over and over and over until I fall asleep. Why four? I have no idea, but it’s what my brain started a year ago and it works every single time.

I go to the gym or pool at least 3 times a week, and if I can’t sleep I do gentle and basic yoga on the floor of my room or just stretches in bed.

I remain soda free, since December 2018.

I remain alcohol free, since December 2019.

I strive to meet with 1-2 friends a month for quality 1:1 time, even if just for an hour.

I talk to my mom more in the past year than in the previous five years; and visit her much more too, and I’m no longer afraid for her (or anyone) to see my truth or to answer hard questions.

I worked to heal the divide with my daughter, caused by trauma… and healed by the grace of God.

I stopped hiding behind always wearing hats everywhere I went; which I’ve learned hid my eyes.

I stopped hiding behind gym clothes; which I’ve learned made it easy to talk about recovering from 4 years of back-to-back health crises, instead of actually talking about me. Many lessons imparted through the experiences shared by Michelle

I stopped trying to ask and answer everything for my daughter, and worked to help her find her own voice.

I started going to church a bit early, and stay a bit after…. versus slipping in after it started and out before it ended just so no one would ask me “how are you.” If you ask, you will get truth.

I stop jumping to tell the IYKYK life stories, and started to pause and listen to others stories, and share bits of mine as guide Gods … not as trauma was guiding.

I made some huge positive changes to other areas of my life, and I’ve no clue what the next chapter will be, and I fully trust the author of my story.

I chose peace, finally. I chose peace, and in return feel more like me than I have in a decade.

🎶….. I am brave, I am bruised, I am who I'm meant to be, this is me. Look out 'cause here I come, and I'm marching on to the beat I drum, I'm not scared to be seen, I make no apologies, this is me.

💞 Thanks Jordyn for capturing a big moment of my journey … that of me loving myself, and that of me with My Love.

Now I think I’ll grab a and toast all the goodness in my life.

- Melinda

03/16/2025

🌊 Melinda Gill brings over two decades of experience in purging, organizing, and space development done in a purpose driven and creative way so that you Don’t Sink. —— Hebrews 6:19

🌊 Slide into DMs discuss your home or office needs today!

03/31/2024

💗✝️ Christ The Lord has risen today, Allelulia.

11/24/2023

I know, it’s been a minute.

We have been healing.

We are working on thriving.

We are healthy.

We are together.

We are thankful.

We are blessed.

Happy Thanksgiving.

08/15/2023

Crazy how file flies, I know!! 🤯😳 Here’s a flashback to fall 2010….. and this little toy tester is now 16!!! 🫶 Yep, my bitty baby is Sweet 16 today!!! 🥳💗 And YES she still loves to 😉

11/14/2022

Another road.

It’s been five months since David and I whisked away for a 3 day getaway aboard our friends 38’ sail boat. Being aboard S/V Another Road always brings us so much joy and peace. Little did we know what was coming.

It was 8:00 am on a Wednesday and I woke up eager to drive to the beach for some quiet time, while David slept in. I packed my snacks and went to hop off this gorgeous vessel I had been on hundreds of times. The next thing I know I was in the water. I don’t mean the water at the beach. I mean the water of the marina! I had fallen in!

My first thought was, “I’m in the water.” My second thought was, “oh my God, I think I broke my femur.” The pain in my right quad was the single most intense of my life (and that’s saying something). I grabbed the dock with my right hand and held a line with my left, and I leaned back to assess my injuries. My right quad was throbbing and red, and my gentle exam told me my femur didn’t appear to be broken. I had a little blood on my knee, and I wondered “how do I only have a small cut, I should be cut up by barnacles.” “Oh crap! My keys. My phone.” Both had been in my shorts pocket, and I tossed them upon the dock; and I prayed our car’s key fob would work, and I was grateful they didn’t fall into the 10’ dark depth of water below me. My snack bag was near me so I tossed it upon the dock too, and I watched my flip flops float away as the tide moved out.

Over the years Brian had trained us on many safety features of being aboard a sailing vessel, and I had some flashes of recall as to what I needed to do. I knew not to yell “help” unless you really need it. I genuinely felt I was okay and going to be able to get myself up the ladder and back aboard the boat. My husband didn’t even know I had fallen in; he was sleeping. It was 8:00 am on a weekday, everyone in the marina was asleep or at work or on the water. “It’s okay. I can do this,” I said to myself - and believed in a way I hadn’t felt for years.

I held the line and monkey walked towards the ladder. I was a few feet down the vessel when I realized I was going the wrong way! Sail boats back in. The ladder was the other way. I turned around, saw my flip flops nearby and tossed them towards the dock (I love those flip flops), and I continued to work my way to the ladder. The rung I needed to grab was several feet above my head, above my extended arm grasp. I also realized the lines were crossing the ladder and keeping it from easily coming down. I floated a moment and I knew the only way to get the ladder down was to pull myself up - full body weight - out of the water and “flip” the lines off each corner. Being a sailing guest gives a lot of knowledge, being a sailor gives a lot more (of which I learned the next day).

I extended my right arm up, knowing my left hand cannot grasp let alone hold my body weight, and I told myself “you are able. You are stronger and healthier than in years. You can do this.” I leapt from the water enough to grab on and vertically monkey bar climb the ladder. Some might have been able to whisk themselves aboard the boat in such a way but I was not nearly strong enough (and I certainly didn’t want to risk an injury, and I wasn’t convinced my femur wasn’t at least fractured). Once I climbed I was able to loop my left arm through the ladder and use my right hand to flip the line out of the way. I went to switch arms position and I lost my grip and fell back into the water. I didn’t get discouraged, nor did I call for my husband. To be clear I was not not calling for David due to pride or embarrassment, it was because I knew I could do it. I could save myself. I was able.

I quickly assessed my options. Leap, climb, and try again, or swim under the dock to a nearby boat and hope I can get on theirs then to the dock and back to the sail boat. That second option didn’t appeal to me because I didn’t know how injured my femur was and didn’t have confidence to go under a dock not knowing what the head clearance may be and I knew I didn’t want to swim under the water of an unknown space as the tide went out. I vertically climbed again. I looped my right arm through for a better hold, and I tried multiple times to get my left hand to flip in an upward motion. It can’t. It’s not for a lack of trying, it’s from 6 hand and wrist surgeries in 2020 and it’s just not a motion it can do. I felt like I was going to slip again. I felt something inside of me say, “you are able, and you need help.” I gently lowered myself back down into the water. I took a deep cleansing of the mind breath.

“David,” I called. “Babe. Hey, David,” as I banged the ladder against the boat. Oh yeah, I had to vertically climb up again just enough to be able to bang the ladder. I could hear him wake saying, “what? Where are you.?” “Babe. Come up top.” Him, “what? Where are you.” “Babe. Come. Up. Top.” I could hear him as he moved through the cabin and up the stairs. I could hear him say, “where are you,” and picture him looking outward towards the marina docks. “Babe. Come to the ladder.” Him, “what? Where…” “Babe, look down,” I said as I sheepishly grinned and waved.” Him, very confused, “What are you doing in the water?” Me, “babe. Can you lower the ladder, it’s stuck, and we talk about this later?” With the flick of his wrist the ladder is no longer stuck, and I lowered it with ease.

I paused right as I started to climb, wondering if my left leg issues (since Covid blood clot 7/2021) will allow me to climb. Wondering if my new right femur pain would allow me to climb. Wondering if my left hand and wrist would help me hold my body weight. David asked, “do you need help?” “I don’t know,” I replied, “but I know I have to try this on my own.”

So I did. I got myself back on that boat, on my own. (Ok yeah so I had to have help moving a line; but the hard part was all me.)

Approximately 12 minutes after I fell into the water I was aboard the boat, and wondering how long I should rest before I go to the beach. (Hopeful the car key fob would work!) David took one look at my quad and got me an ice pack and a first aid kit, and we discussed how I ended up falling in; albeit I wasn’t quite sure at the time. I also realized I had fallen in between a 3-4’ space, and had splashed down into 10’ deep water, slamming the boat and the dock before I splashed down. Lucky; that’s me.

Within an hour I was “icing” my leg in the cold waters of the Gulf, and truly felt more alive and more powerful and more ABLE than I had in years. I fell. I got myself up. I was okay. It was incredibly powerful. Sure it hurt, but I was alive and able.

Later that evening I shared a photo of my quad with Chris (a physical therapist friend), and considering I played in the Gulf all day we assumed it was unlikely I had more than a terrible contusion. That was a Wednesday, and we were mostly correct. Four days later the bruising was so intense I knew I needed to see a trauma specialist, just to be sure. I mean, I do have an extremely high pain tolerance, and I was fine playing about the boat and the beach for 3 more days. The orthopedic I saw took one line and ordered a STAT MRI of my femur and knee, which I had an hour later. Thankfully both were negative and it was ruled I indeed had a severe quad contusion, bone bruising of my knee, and some other bruising down my leg to my foot. All on the right side, it was clear that I had fallen head-over-heels and slammed my inner right side into the dock. I also had a terrible bruise just below my left hip; we assume from hitting the boat. I was so lucky. Yes, lucky.

I had a traumatic contusion on my leg; one that could take 6-9 months to heal. Had I hit my back or my head with such an impact I would not be here to tell this story; likely floating in the Gulf and no one would have known what happened to me. (Remember, all of my stuff was in the water with me.) A fact that isn’t lost on me. A month later my pulmonologist said, “Do you realize God has saved you 3 times in 11 months?” I said yes and I cried while telling her how I’ve never felt more powerful and able; and that I’m not even sure what to do with it.

I went on about the summer, still healing from the effects of the last 3 years, when I noticed my right shoulder giving me issues. Some pain. Some decreased range of motion. I wondered, “could I have hit my shoulder too?Did I instinctively try and catch myself and tear something?” Knowing I had some minimal arm bruising, and based on my symptoms I knew what was possible and I asked for an MRI. The evidence of a traumatic injury was glaring. I have a torn rotator cuff; a 90% full thickness tear of the supraspinatus (the “spine of the shoulder”), a tear that only 22% of the population get. Lucky me, right? Good grief.

So here we are, five months later and it’s time to get my shoulder repaired today. It won’t be an easy recovery, but I know I’ve been through worse. I am not remotely excited about a 4-6 month intense recovery process, but I am okay with it because I am healed.

I’m healed because when I hit that water God healed me. I’m healed because when we arrived at the boat that Tuesday evening I was scared to even be there. I was scared to let go of the trauma of the last 3 years and just have some fun. I was scared to step out on faith that things might just be okay. I guess I was scared because I’ve gotten so used to suffering that maybe it’s become easier. I didn’t think I was able, and I didn’t think anyone else thought I was anymore either.

That same pulmonologist, the Nurse Practitioner Mayra, is who had diagnosed my PTSD just six months earlier. It all made sense to me, and I didn’t disagree, and I know I had been suffering with such since fall of 2019. She is also the one who cried with me when I told her “hitting the water healed me.”

Before I hit that water I was doing fairly well (okay, most days) to suffer strong since our life got crazy 10/04/2019. I had survived 6 back to back hand and wrist surgeries, 7 nerve blocks, and 22 months of occupational therapy. I had survived being in CCU for a week with Covid Pneumonia, and back a week later with a Covid Provoked Pulmonary Embolism. I had survived a year of intense physical therapy. I had survived the trauma of almost losing my husband to his own pulmonary embolism 20 months before my own. I had survived losing my father-in-law and my Pop (step dad) within 9 months of one another. I was pretty freaking strong, right? I mean I must be to have made it through all of that, right? I was so not. I was traumatized, and I was hiding behind everything everyone thought I should be - grateful. It was a hiding place I had become very comfortable with.

Okay, sure I was grateful but I was also scared. All. The. Time. So scared I couldn’t control myself most days. So scared I would try to control everything and everyone else around me. So scared I hurt my marriage, my child, my mother, and even some friendships. Most of my triggers and responses were subtle, but some were not. Then one day they were gone. With the splash of water, gone. Like God lovingly and gently but firmly said to me, “enough. You are able. Now get yourself back in that boat and take another road.” And I did.

I relayed the events to our friends the next day, and we discussed what I may have done wrong, and Brian gave me some wise tips only a true Sailor would know, should something like this ever happen again. He also told me I wasn’t torn up by barnacles because he dives down on occasion and cleans them all, knowing how dangerous they would be if someone fell in. Thank goodness, for sure. I could tell Brian got it. He could understand what it meant to have an adrenaline rush where a rapid sequence flashes in such a precise manner that one can save ones life, and maybe even change it. I started to cry as I told the story of how powerful I felt, and adrenaline aside, how able I felt. That I knew what to do and when to do it. I could save myself. It was an incredibly empowering feeling, and for the most part that feeling has remained.

PTSD is serious stuff, and it is often overlooked as being someone with control issues, anger issues, anxiety, situational depression moments, and for students - academic issues. PTSD is often looked at as an excuse for poor behavior, eating and sleep habits, and lack of connection (on multiple levels). PTSD is as real as the shoulder surgery I’ll be undergoing as most of you read this. One can suffer strong while still feeling traumatized. One can also have hope while still feeling traumatized. One can also have yet again another freak accident and something just clicks and healing comes in an instant. In a splash, that’s how it came for me.

To be clear, I am not saying go fall off a boat! I am saying look at ways you can hop aboard Another Road and trust it may just take you to another time… and never look back, this is my plan.

⛵️- Melinda Gill

🎶➡️ https://youtu.be/avk7j3RTiaA Jimmy Buffet

Hope Heals

11/07/2022

J is for Joy. J is for Jesus.

For the first time in my life we decorated for Christmas before Thanksgiving. Like way before. Three weeks before. I know I know. Hold your wordy pitch forks and brimstones back a minute.

I told David recently I wanted to decorate this particular weekend, and yup he too thought I was crazy shoving the calendar up a month. Even our 15 year old was confused. I simply told them, “I need this.” They know the rest.

The last 3 years have been hard. I mean scars all over my body and inside my brain and upon my heart hard. I know we had Christmas decorations, and I know we celebrated it, but I don’t remember it. I have zero recollection other than through photographs.

Christmas 2019 I was 5 days post op from my first left wrist/hand surgery, David was two months into his Pulmonary Embolism recovery, six weeks past his dad passing away, and we were all in a state of emotional roller coaster.

Christmas 2020 I was still grieving my dad who passed away six months earlier, during a pandemic in his nursing home, and I recovering from my 5th hand/wrist surgery and had my 6th just 3 days after Christmas. We were all just tired.

Christmas 2021 I was still in daily occupational therapy, and still very much recovering from Post-C Pneumonia and a C-Provoked Pulmonary Embolism almost taking me out 5 months earlier and albeit “cleared to fly,” I had a medical emergency at 30,000 feet on Christmas Day, and I remember sleeping the next two days. I didn’t even get to meet our niece’s new husband or new baby. I just slept, and I spent the next few days working to get doctor notes and cancel flights because I had been “grounded.” All of that mess I absolutely remember, and it sucked, but I’m grateful David and Kylee got to make some great memories to overshadow the fact I was down and out again.

Three straight years I don’t remember putting up our tree or decorating with our collection of beach-themed fun, favorite preschool memory creations, lifetime treasures of my own and those precious ornaments passed down to me. I don’t remember seeing my momma or even my own child for Christmas. My kid is only 15, and I don’t remember three of her Christmases. Those thoughts now feel like a knife picking at a scab.

Today in church we studied Psalm 139 and we learned about all of the way God knows us, about all the ways we are fearfully and wonderfully made. Pastor Jay Mudd spoke of scars telling a story, and of how God is with us in the hard stuff, how God knows what we need before we need it and before we even know we need it. Two friends glanced my way, knowing the scars that show and those that don’t. Knowing that in just one week more will come as I have my 8th surgery in 34 months. Crazy, I know.

I told David I wanted to decorate today, before surgery lays me up again. The procedure isn’t really daunting to me, the fact that it’s on my right shoulder - my dominate arm - forcing old lefty to work - that is hard stuff. I mean sure I’m grateful lefty is able to do a lot, and way more than my medical team ever imagined, but still it’s hard. I’m working through prayer to focus on the facts - my left hand and wrist is very scarred but it’s also 50% able. If I and my surgeon hadn’t done the work it wouldn’t be able to help me now.

I wanted to decorate today so the Joy of this Christmas Season locks in my brain and covers up some of the scars in a way celebrating the birth of Jesus only can.

Nope, decorating won’t make the scars go away, they are a part of a story. My story, and it’s a story of hope and grace and mercy.

Our tree is up, 3 weeks before Thanksgiving and I’m already finding it comforting to stare at our beautiful tree and know that Hope Heals, that in 3 years time I have learned and try to live the definition of Suffer Strong, and that Joy and Jesus resides within it all.

💕 Melinda Gill

10/14/2022

HEALING.

A few days ago a longtime family friend asked me, “Melinda, what are you doing these days?” I knew what she meant, and I didn’t even consider saying anything except the first words that came to mind.

I’m healing.

She replied, “Oh. Well that’s good.” I know she continued to wonder about my job, career, company, and income. All the things that come with such a question. Honestly, none of that even occurred to me. All I could say, and repeated aloud was …

I’m healing.

I’m healing from the trauma of the last 3 years.

I’m healing from nearly losing my husband on 10/4/2019 from a 90% pulmonary artery blockage embolism. I finally have a mindset of “God saved him,” versus “he almost died;” and even correct people should it come up. I finally see him, and not him on a trauma table.

I’m healing from the tremendous grief of my beloved father-in-law Bobby passing on 10/28/2019. I finally have a mindset where I can say his name without crying; well, most of the time.

I’m healing from the fear Kylee and I had as we boarded a plane 10/31/2019 to Oklahoma without David because he was far too sick to travel. I finally embrace the gratitude I feel for the friends who cared for him so we could care for his mother and sister.

I’m healing from the life-altering injury of blowing out my left wrist on 10/31/2019, and the subsequent 6 wrist and hand surgeries and 7 nerve blocks which took place between 12/20/2019 - 12/28/2020, and the total 22 months of occupational therapy. I’m finally at a place where I can be grateful I have 40% use of my hand and give thanks for it is healed.

I’m healing from the pandemic crushing my small business of 13 years. I’m finally able to look at photos of my company’s events and smile with pride and joy for what I built from scratch, and believe I will build it again one day.

I’m healing from the devastating loss of my Pop (step-dad) on 7/19/2020, and the extreme guilt I have felt of him being locked in that nursing home without us all those months and during his death. I’m finally able to be within the walls of my childhood home and feel peace, and sit upon the edge of our favorite part of the river and feel joy again.

I’m healing from me nearly dying 7/10/2021 from C-pneumonia, from the memories of CCU and wondering if I would make it home, and wondering if David would end up in a bed next to me as he had it too. I’m healing from me nearly dying again 7/22/2021 from a C-provoked pulmonary embolism. I am healing from a second bout of C 1/6/2022, and from being hospitalized again with pneumonia 2/23/2022. I am healing from 364 days of supplemental oxygen, and a year of intense full body physical therapy. I’m healing from the left thyroidectomy and removal of a 5cm c-provoked benign mass on 9/6/2022, and I can finally look at my scar with thanksgiving. I’m finally able to look at my daily vitamin load and one medication that is left and and feel so much gratitude for my life, and be thankful every step doesn’t hurt anymore.

I’m healing from the financial devastation the last 3 years has caused our family. We are far from out of the deep hole, but I finally see each dollar (and meal) donated to us as a gift with great intention and love, and not burdensome to the giver.

I’m healing from the trauma it brought to my marriage, my husband, my parenting, and my child. I’m finally able to look at my husband and my daughter and not feel complete shame and guilt for being unavailable for so long. I’m finally able to understand they experienced trauma too, and for that to be okay, and to know we all survived it - together.

I’m healing from the loss of friends who walked away, from those who turned their backs without cause or conversation. I’m finally able to admit how much that hurts, how much I don’t understand, and to know that with time that wound will heal too.

I’m healing from questioning God and my faith more in 3 years than in my previous 48. I’m healing from how much it hurt my heart to intentionally sneak in church after a service starts and out before it ends so I could avoid everyone asking “how are you.” I’m finally able to walk in with gladness and worship with so much joy.

So, what am I doing these days?

I’m healing, and I am so thankful.

💕 Melinda Gill

Hope Heals Love What Matters

Don’t Sink Creative

07/11/2025

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