-
Subscribe
Subscribed
Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
Not everyone makes that choice. I say that with deep compassion – because I’ve seen how trauma can settle into someone’s bones and never quite let go. Trauma leaves a unique mark on each of us – yet, a scar just the same. We may grow up in the same environment, witness the same outbursts,
We often think that communication means speaking – sharing our thoughts, opinions, or stories. But what if the deepest form of connection wasn’t found in our words…but in our willingness to withhold them? “Listen” and “Silent” share the same letters, and perhaps no accident. Because it’s in the stillness – when we pause, breathe, and
I came across a video today. At first, I laughed – actual out-loud laughter. The kind of laughter that rises from your toes and rumbles up your torso before landing in your mouth. Full-on laughter. It felt good at first, as I thought, “Oh, he did not just say that,” – hand over my mouth.
About two years ago, I stopped obsessing over my diagnosis and started focusing on the presentations – the symptoms themselves. Instead of sitting in fear over what the doctors named it, I began to ask deeper questions: I dove into research – books, case studies, nutrition science, trauma recovery, gut-brain connections, neuroinflammation. I cast a
Sometimes we hear a truth that rings— you know the kind. It doesn’t shout. It doesn’t try to convince. It just lands, smooth and deep, like a stone skipping across a still lake… and we feel it ripple. But then something inside of us leans forward, tilts its head, and says: “There’s more here. Dig.”
Yesterday was the kind of day that warms more than your skin. The sun stretched wide across the sky, kissing the earth with golden light, and the air was sweet – filled with hints of spring florals and the whisper of summer grass. It took me back. My mind drifted to a time when I
By Tina Campbell | Scribed In Light We see the phrase all the time – “I’m fine.” But what if I told you that behind those two words is a soul worn thin? A recent post made its way across my screen – a silhouette of a father’s head split in two: One side said
There’s a little girl in our world whose strength humbles me daily. Her name is Ezra Vivianna. She is five years old, diagnosed with ONH and lives with blindness, autism, and is battling a life-threatening, complex seizure disorder. Ezra doesn’t run to the world the way other children do – she listens to it. She
I look around some days, and I can’t help but feel we live in a world that worships self. Now don’t get me wrong – there’s a sacred place for healing, boundaries, and self-respect. But somewhere along the way, our compass spun sideways. “Taking care of me” became the only priority and in doing so,
I pray today that my voice rises like thunder, rolling over a sleeping field. I pray it stirs wisdom, spirit, and the kind of moral clarity that pierces through the fog of misunderstanding and judgment. Because this voice rises, fueled by both compassion and fire. Compassion is the quiet courage to see those the world
Tina N. Campbell
Centerville, Ohio 45459
echoesofgrace66@gmail.com
Scribed In Light 