Yesterday, I felt something I can only describe as full-body gratitude. Heart-bursting, cell-nuclei-vibrating, whole-being gratitude. The kind that makes you stop and feel your life in a way you usually don’t have time for. To really understand that feeling, I have to take you back to the day before. I was lying in the Contour Light bed, listening to a meditation — a crystal sound meditation specifically about cultivating gratitude in the body. I followed along, breathing in memories and moments I was thankful for, letting the emotion build like a warm current moving through me. I tried to memorize it, to anchor that sensation so I could return to it later.
But, like so many things, it drifted off once the to-do list took over.

Call this person.

Answer that question.

Back to routine.
And then… came today.
Today I saw Steve. His first visit since officially starting care. He came to us cautious — burned by someone who took his money and promised to cure his neuropathy, only to disappear. But we built rapport quickly. There was a spark of trust. I delivered his equipment, answered his questions, made sure he felt heard. And when he was checking out, he told Megan — while tearing up — that this place already felt like home.
Then Diana walked in. Her first care visit too. She lost her daughter to a fentanyl overdose two years ago. Her daughter had Guillain-Barré and, after being failed by the medical system, turned to self-medicating. At the time, she had a 1-year-old daughter — the one Diana is now raising. Diana looked at me through tears and said, “If I had just found y’all a few years ago, my daughter might still be here. So now I’m fighting for myself, because I can’t fight for her anymore.”

She felt heard. And understood.
Then came Helen. Also starting care. Mother to twelve. Former dancer. Her neuropathy ended her career. Years ago, one of her daughters was murdered. And it was Helen who found the person who did it. Through grief and hardship, she kept a roof over her family’s head — and became the investigator in her own child’s story. When we met for her Day 2, she couldn’t afford care like the others. But she wanted the help, and we were determined to find a way.

Today, she thanked me.

And I thanked her right back — for choosing herself.

We hugged, we laughed, we talked about compassion, about integrity. About how rare it is in the world.

She said she found it here. With us.
And that’s when I realized:

That little flicker of gratitude from the meditation? That was just the preview. The real thing didn’t hit until after those three people walked out our doors.

That’s when the flood came.

That’s when I felt like I was buzzing with something sacred.
These people trusted me — trusted us — with their stories, their pain, their hope. And the gift I get from just being a small part of their healing is more powerful than anything I could have imagined when I first started doing this work. I felt like I was brushing up against my essential self. Like I finally got a taste of what it means to be the light I came here to be in this world.
Driving home, everything felt more vivid. My thoughts were more expansive, creative, open. And I just kept wondering… how do I hold onto this? How do I live from this place?
I don’t have that answer yet. I’ve been doing this work for four years and have never felt anything quite like this.

But what I do know is: it matters.

And whatever I choose from here, it will be guided by this feeling.
Because this?

This is what healing — for them and for us — really looks like.