Life turns every person upside down. No one escapes unscathed.

Growing up, I used to watch my younger brother put together all kinds of things—car parts, computer parts, TV parts… you name it. He could take any broken thing and put it back together. Really, he made it better than it was before.

I remember being in awe of how he did that—how he could take all those broken pieces and create something even better. Sometimes he did it by adding new pieces. Sometimes he combined pieces from other things. But it was always better than the original. Always.

There was a valuable lesson in watching him that I wouldn’t realize until much later in life. Now, I thank God for those memories.

My cancer diagnosis came in August of 2025, just eight months after my accident. The diagnosis came fast and strong, like the big-ass wrecking ball in Miley Cyrus’s music video. Aimed directly at my broken heart.

As I pulled up to the Cancer Center building and was brought back to my doctor’s exam room, I realized my fragile heart wasn’t as strong as I had thought. Right there, it shattered into a million pieces for the second time in eight months. And so a new room was added to the trauma hallway in my mind. A room I didn’t want to be in any more than I wanted to be in the “accident” room I was already trying to navigate my way out of.

What was all that chatter last month about being strong and learning to carry the weight trauma gives us in life?

Now I had even more to carry. I wasn’t sure this was real life anymore. Was I living in some kind of parallel universe? So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I put one foot in front of the other.

Did I look strong on the outside?

Yes.

Did I tell everyone, “I’m okay! Let’s roll!” when I knew I wasn’t okay?

Yes.

Did I question my faith in God?

Also yes.

Below is a true and accurate conversation I had with the Big Guy.

“Um… excuse me, God. Hi, it’s me, Liz.

Yeah… just a couple of questions.

I know You’re really busy with famines, wars, and all the evil in the world, but when You said, ‘For I know the plans I have for you… plans to prosper you and not to harm you…’ (Jeremiah 29:11), did You by chance mix me up with someone else?

Because I was feeling pretty good about my life.

I’m not sure if You’ve noticed, but the last eight months have been… well… painful. Traumatic, to say the least. So just let me know if there was some sort of heavenly mix-up. That way I can get back to the old Liz.”

As it turns out, He didn’t mix me up with anyone.

Did He cause my traumatic experiences?

No.

What others intended for evil, He has worked for good. (Genesis 50:20.)

So I did the only thing I knew how to do. I put one foot in front of the other. I kept telling myself, the only way out is through.

My accident and my cancer weren’t going to keep me hidden inside those dark rooms. I didn’t have the strength to sit in them forever.

I knew I needed to keep pressing forward no matter how much it hurt and try to begin again. I needed to learn how to carry the weight of both events, keep my faith in God’s divine plan for my life, and begin picking up the shattered pieces of my heart.

I’m not going to bore you with the timeline of my accident, diagnosis, attorney meetings, three surgeries, all while working, traveling to horse shows, and continuing the day-to-day routine.

I’m not sure anyone would believe it. But I did it. I was “doing” because it had to be done. I just prayed that one day I could get back to living again.

Over the last six months, I’ve learned how to put my heart back together, piece by piece. Some pieces were old. Some were new. Some came from people God placed in my life at exactly the right time. And you know what? I think this one’s better than the original.

Maybe that’s what my brother was teaching me all those years ago. Broken things don’t have to stay broken. Sometimes God doesn’t simply put us back together. Sometimes… He rebuilds us into something even better than before.

Until next time…

-DC Liz

July’s Playlist:

• Man in the Mirror, Michael Jackson
• Un-Break My Heart, Toni Braxton
• Lose Control, Teddy Swims