Away From Home, But Not Out of Purpose: Day 36–39 of my Bell's Palsy recovery!

Finding strength in every step

This week has been layered — revelation, gratitude, exhaustion, and excruciating pain — yet threaded together by one unshakable truth: nothing is wasted.

Day 36 – Away From Home

During devotion, Babes shared the thought I reflected on yesterday — In the Bible, where Abram went down to Egypt, and later Joseph did the same. But he took it further. Why Egypt?

Egypt was a provision, but it was never the promise. It was survival, but not settlement. It was a place of learning, not belonging.

As he spoke, I heard the phrase clearly in my spirit: “Away From Home.”

Abraham went. His grandson went. Even Jesus, the Seed of Abraham, went into Egypt for a season (Matthew 2:13–15). Yet Egypt was never their final destination.

That made me reflect deeply.

What if some of the places we find ourselves — physically, emotionally, spiritually — are Egypt seasons? Necessary, but not permanent. Instructional, but not definitional.

Bell’s Palsy feels like that.

This is not my home. This is not my final form. This is not my identity.

But if I am here, what am I meant to learn here?

I continued editing Moments in Time and the workbook — cleaning, refining, aligning. Even in recovery, purpose continues. C went with me to Dollar General and 4th to grab a few things. Simple errands. Simple moments. Yet even those feel different now. More intentional.

Day 37 – Gratitude in God’s House

Happy Father’s Day to my baby — the father of my children. Watching him lead, serve, and love while I am navigating recovery has deepened my appreciation.

We attended the first service. As I sat there, my heart flooded with gratitude. I am alive. I am back in with my church community. I am fellowshipping again.

Dr. Donovan Thomas preached a powerful and relevant Father’s Day message. It stretched me. It revealed that some healing is still happening beneath the surface. Physical healing is one thing. Emotional healing is another.

Later, we talked about Emotional Quotient — how crucial it is. Not just toward others, but toward ourselves.
Self-awareness.
Self-regulation.
Giving ourselves grace while still pressing forward.

Recovery requires emotional intelligence, too.

Day 38 – Help Is a Blessing

I spent most of the day correcting class assignments and preparing for Cece to teach for me. Delegating is not a weakness; it’s wisdom.

Mom made saltfish and provisions with salad — and truly, no one does it like her. There’s something about food prepared by a mother’s hands; it carries love, history, and comfort all at once. I thank God for her presence in my life — steady, nurturing, and faithful.

Is there a mother, or someone who has stepped into that sacred space for you, whose absence would leave your life forever changed? Someone whose care has quietly held you together more times than you can count?

I added cocoa to the breakfast delight — a simple touch, but it made the moment even sweeter.

My babygirl served us the fish Mom prepared. The Father’s Day blanket my daughter ordered arrived—a collage of photos of Babes with them at different stages of their lives. It was beautiful and reasonably priced, too. A tangible expression of love.

Babes had class. I opened with announcements, and C took over. I thanked God for the help. I left downstairs around 11:22 p.m. Babes was still working. I retired.

Recovery is teaching me interdependence.

Day 39 – Excruciating Pain & Eternal Purpose

My eye hurt so badly. Excruciating pain.

I had to wake C to put in the drops because Babes was still asleep. In the quiet, I asked God silently:

“How long?”

And the answer rose just as quietly:

As long as it takes for God’s timing to be reached.
As long as His purpose is fulfilled in this situation.

During the watch, one portion focused on rejoicing in the day. I paused.

If this is the day the Lord has made, and I am to rejoice in it, then that includes rejoicing even in pain.

Not because pain feels good.
But because the purpose is working.

Romans 8:28 became personal again: all things working together for my good because I am called according to His purpose.

God is so perfectly perfect that He takes the very thing that tries to derail you and works it until it serves you.

Bell’s Palsy?
It will serve my purpose of laying hands on the sick.

Lack?
It will serve my purpose of being a blessing.

Delay?
It will refine timing.

Nothing is wasted. Everything is being refined.

The question becomes: Do you know your purpose?

Because when you know your purpose, you understand that what feels like a detour is actually development.

Physical Update

Severe eye pain this week
Using prescribed eye drops and ointment (same brand)
Mouth still feels unusual
Strong cravings for tangy foods — salt, lemon, vinegar
Using Biotene gel for dryness

The symptoms fluctuate. Some days feel manageable. Others feel overwhelmed.

But I am still here. Still healing. Still believing.

Final Reflection: Egypt Is Not Home

This Bell’s Palsy journey may feel like Egypt.

But Egypt is not home.

It is a classroom.
It is a refining place.
It is a temporary address.

And when God finishes extracting what is necessary from this season, I will not just walk out healed — I will walk out aligned.

If you are in your own “Away From Home” season, remember:

You are not abandoned.
You are being prepared.

And when purpose calls, even pain must serve it.

Your Turn 💬

Pause for a moment and reflect:

Who has been a nurturing presence in your life — someone whose love has steadied you?
Have you thanked them lately?
If you’re in an “away from home” season, who reminds you of who you are?

Even when life feels displaced, you are not removed from purpose.

Sometimes God uses the people who care for us to anchor us while He refines us.

Whisper a quiet thank you — and remember, being away from home does not mean being away from purpose.

🌿 Stay Connected
If this reflection touched your heart, leave a comment, like, or share to let me know you’re here.

Follow for more reflections, and consider sharing this with someone who needs a gentle reminder

that love can be simple—and that’s enough.

💙 Your love matters. Your prayer matters. Your presence matters.
Let’s keep creating a space for honesty, compassion, and hope—one moment, one prayer, one simple act of love at a time.

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