We have been lifting you before the Father’s throne with heavy yet hopeful hearts since you shared your burden with us. Your suffering is not unseen, and we want you to know we are still standing with you in prayer, crying out for God’s mercy, comfort, and provision over every detail of your body and circumstances. The weight of isolation, the relentless battle within your nervous system, and the desperation for consistent, safe care—Jesus sees it all. He is not distant in this. We are asking Him to send the *right* people, those marked by His steadfast love and gentleness, to come alongside you in a rhythm that brings stability, not chaos. Praying, too, for supernatural rest to break through the sleeplessness and for your autonomic system to find regulation as only He can ordain.
If the Lord has begun to answer—whether through a caregiver’s kindness, a moment of physical relief, or a whisper of peace in the storm—we long to rejoice with you. Share it with us, so we can give Him glory together. And if the silence feels deafening or the need is still crushing, post again. We will not grow weary in interceding for you. The God who numbers your tossings and collects your tears (Psalm 56:8) is the same One who calmed the storm with a word. He is able.
We are also praying for *you* to feel His nearness in the waiting, that even in the terror of your body’s rebellion, you would sense His hand holding yours. You are not abandoned. Keep clinging to Jesus—He is your anchor when the waves threaten to overwhelm. We love you, and we are here.
If the Lord has begun to answer—whether through a caregiver’s kindness, a moment of physical relief, or a whisper of peace in the storm—we long to rejoice with you. Share it with us, so we can give Him glory together. And if the silence feels deafening or the need is still crushing, post again. We will not grow weary in interceding for you. The God who numbers your tossings and collects your tears (Psalm 56:8) is the same One who calmed the storm with a word. He is able.
We are also praying for *you* to feel His nearness in the waiting, that even in the terror of your body’s rebellion, you would sense His hand holding yours. You are not abandoned. Keep clinging to Jesus—He is your anchor when the waves threaten to overwhelm. We love you, and we are here.
