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I Want To Go Back
A Midnight Thoughts Reflection
Welcome, friends.
Midnight Thoughts is a quiet place for reflection—
born in the still hours of the night,
when the world is asleep
and the heart begins to speak.
These words are shaped by faith, by waiting,
and by life lived breath by breath with ALS.
Here, I share the thoughts that rise when the house is quiet.
and the future feels uncertain.
Thoughts about surrender, endurance, purpose, and hope—
even in weakness,
even in waiting.
This space is not about having all the answers.
It is about pausing long enough to listen.
And trusting that even here…
even now…
God is still building something meaningful.
I Want to Go Back
There are moments when the thought comes quietly.
Not always loudly.
Not always with tears.
Sometimes it comes in the middle of an ordinary moment.
A memory.
A picture.
A sound.
A place I used to go.
Something I used to do without thinking.
And suddenly, I feel it.
I want to go back.
Back to the time before ALS.
Back to the life I used to know.
Back to the body that moved when I asked it to move.
Back to the voice that spoke without effort.
Back to the days when simple things were still simple.
I want to go back to walking across a room without planning every step.
I want to go back to eating without fear.
I want to go back to speaking without needing a device.
I want to go back to getting up, going out, helping others, fixing things, doing things, living life in a way that feels natural.
I want to go back to before everything changed.
Grieving the Ordinary Things
People often understand grief when someone dies.
But there is another kind of grief.
The grief of losing abilities while still being here.
The grief of remembering what your body used to do.
The grief of watching ordinary things become difficult, slow, or impossible.
ALS does not just take movement.
It changes your relationship with time.
It changes your relationship with independence.
It changes your relationship with your own body.
Things I once did without thinking now require help, patience, equipment, planning, and strength.
And sometimes, that is hard to accept.
Sometimes I miss the ordinary things most.
The simple things.
The things I never thought to thank God for were just part of living.
The Life Before ALS
There is a life before ALS.
And there is a life after.
Before ALS, I had a rhythm.
I had routines.
I had freedom I did not fully realize I had.
I could move through a day without thinking about every detail.
I could speak what was on my mind.
I could do things with my hands.
I could go places with less planning.
I could live without constantly being reminded of what was changing.
I miss that life.
And I think it is important to be honest about that.
Faith does not mean I never miss what I lost.
Faith does not mean I never look back.
Faith does not mean I pretend this road is easy.
Sometimes faith is simply bringing the truth before God and saying:
Lord, this hurts.
Scripture for This Reflection
Ecclesiastes 7:10 — NIV
“Do not say, ‘Why were the old days better than these?’
For it is not wise to ask such questions.”
That verse is not telling me the past did not matter.
It is not telling me that the old days were not good.
It is not telling me to stop grieving.
It is reminding me that I cannot live there.
The past can be remembered.
The past can be honored.
The past can be grieved.
But it cannot become the place where my soul stays.
Because if I spend all my strength trying to return to yesterday, I may miss what God is still doing today.
The Hard Truth
The hard truth is this:
I cannot go back.
I cannot return to the time before ALS.
I cannot step back into the body I once had.
I cannot undo the diagnosis.
I cannot make everything the way it used to be.
And that hurts.
There are days when acceptance feels heavy.
There are days when memories feel sharp.
There are days when the past feels easier to look at than the present.
But even in that pain, I am learning something.
Wanting to go back does not mean I have no faith.
It means I am human.
It means I loved the life I had.
It means I remember.
It means I am grieving something real.
And God is not offended by honest grief.
Pull Quote
“I cannot go back to the life before ALS, but God can still meet me in the life I have now.”
Still Here
ALS has changed my body.
It has changed how I communicate.
It has changed how I create.
It has changed how I move through the world.
I use an eye gazer to communicate now.
I create videos, blog posts, and Midnight Thoughts in a way I never imagined before ALS.
It is slow.
It is difficult.
It requires patience.
It takes help.
But I am still here.
Still thinking.
Still feeling.
Still creating.
Still hoping.
Still trying to live with purpose.
ALS has taken a lot.
But it has not erased me.
God Is Still Here
Maybe I cannot go back to the life before ALS.
But God can still meet me in the life I have now.
Not because this life is easy.
Not because I understand everything.
Not because I no longer grieve what has changed.
But because God is not limited to the life I lost.
He is present here too.
In this room.
In this body.
In this weakness.
In this waiting.
In this slow, difficult, breath-by-breath life.
He was with me before ALS.
And He is with me now.
That does not remove all the sadness.
But it gives me something to hold on to when the memories come.
A New Kind of Forward
Moving forward does not always mean feeling strong.
Sometimes moving forward means accepting help.
Sometimes it means creating slowly.
Sometimes it means speaking through an eye gazer.
Sometimes it means letting others see the struggle.
Sometimes it means trusting God when the road looks nothing like the one I would have chosen.
I still want to go back sometimes.
I think I always will.
But I do not want to miss the grace that is still here.
Because even here, God can still give meaning.
Even here, God can still bring purpose.
Even here, God can still speak in the quiet.
Even here, God can still build something meaningful.
A Quiet Invitation
Maybe you have a “before” too.
A time before the diagnosis.
Before the loss.
Before the grief.
Before the change you never wanted.
Maybe part of you still wants to go back.
It is okay to miss what was.
It is okay to grieve the life you had.
But do not forget this:
Your story is not over just because life looks different now.
God can still meet you here.
God can still work here.
God can still bring light into places that feel changed forever.
And maybe, breath by breath,
He can help us live today.
without forgetting the beauty of yesterday.
Until next time, God bless.
