My testimony about something very personal
A Spring Miracle — My Testimony of Faith and Healing
This is my story — a reminder that God still works miracles today. I don’t share it for attention or sympathy, but to give glory where it belongs: to Jesus, who turned my fear into faith and my worry into worship.
Spring Reflections and a Miracle
Spring is here again, and I couldn’t be happier to return to the garden. I lost a few plants over the winter, but most survived and are already leafing out beautifully. Of course, with the beauty comes the chaos — the weeds, the mess, the frustration, the occasional yelling, and the inevitable eye-rolling. Gardening isn’t always peaceful; it’s a mix of joy, hard work, and a little bit of madness.
Before I dive into all the spring hopes, rose scents, mosquitoes, Japanese beetles, and aphids (because let’s be honest — gardening isn’t always just wonderful things ), I need to pause for something deeper: gratitude.
I want to thank God for allowing me another season of health and life
The Scare That Changed My Life
On January 3, 2022, I went in for a routine mammogram. Everything seemed normal until the doctor mentioned a small mass in my right breast. The technicians and doctor were kind and reassuring, saying it was probably a cyst, but that they wanted to keep an eye on it.
Still, hearing “probably nothing, but we’ll monitor it” is enough to make anyone nervous.
A month later, on February 7, 2022, I had another scan — a 3D digital mammogram for clearer images. The technician took her time, capturing every angle. There it was again — something small but visible.
The doctor confirmed it. She was gentle and compassionate, but I remember crying. I asked if they could remove it while it was still tiny. She explained that removing something so small could do more harm than good.
They scheduled my next follow-up for September 29, 2022. The results were unchanged — the mass was still there, the same size and shape. Another follow-up was booked for three months later, and I felt sick with worry.
When Things Got Worse
On December 20, 2022, I went in again. This time, the mass had grown and looked irregular. The doctor recommended a biopsy.
The nurse explained the procedure carefully — they would mark the area with a tiny pin and remove a sample for testing. I cried, thinking of my eight-year-old daughter. I wasn’t afraid of dying for myself, I was afraid of leaving my husband and daughter alone.
That’s when I turned to God with all my heart.
Faith and Fasting
While praying, a number came to my mind — 4.
I decided to fast for four days, drinking only water and coffee. It wasn’t my first fast. Once before, I had given up coffee for three months, a huge sacrifice for me because I was truly addicted to it. That first fast had taught me discipline and closeness to God.
So this time, I fasted again — not to make a deal with God, but simply to express love and gratitude.
I wanted to say, “Father, I trust You completely.”
And something beautiful happened: through those four days, I felt peace. The hunger didn’t bother me. I felt light, calm, and supported. Even my husband was surprised. Deep down, I knew it was God sustaining me.
The Day Everything Changed
On January 10, 2023, I returned for the biopsy. The nurse reviewed the procedure again and began an ultrasound that lasted nearly half an hour. Then the doctor came in, repeated the scan, and suddenly stopped.
He looked at me and said,
“The mass is gone. There’s nothing there. I can’t do a biopsy because there’s nothing to biopsy.”
He ordered an MRI just to be sure, since the mass had been visible for over a year.
How could it disappear, on the very day of the biopsy?
It wasn’t new; I had lived with that mass for more than a year. And suddenly, when it was time to remove it — it vanished.
To some, that might sound like coincidence. But to me, it was God’s hand, His grace, His power, His love.
On April 12, 2023, I went for a bilateral MRI on both breasts. Nothing was found. Completely clear
My Testimony
Some people might see this as chance. I see it as Jesus — still performing miracles today.
He often works through doctors’ hands, but His presence is unmistakable. This experience reminded me that faith can move mountains and that His timing is perfect.
I thank God every day for this miracle.
For another spring, another sunrise, another chance to plant, nurture, and grow.
I love You, Jesus. Thank You for giving me life — again.
Pinacho’ Compound
When God Rewrote Our Story
How a casual dream turned into an unexpected blessing — a story of faith, timing, and God’s beautiful surprises.
I just realized my last post was written four years ago — and today, I finally felt that gentle pull to write again. Maybe it’s because my daughter is away at church summer camp, and the quiet house gives me room to think. Or maybe it’s because I’ve been reflecting on how the Lord’s hand has been moving so clearly in our lives.
Last year, something remarkable happened — a chain of events so precise, so perfectly timed, that it could only have been orchestrated by God Himself
The Miracle Next Door
Our story began with a property — actually, two properties — right next door to our home.
We had no plans to buy anything. After Covid, like so many families, we were focused on saving, being cautious, preparing for whatever the future might bring. But God was quietly arranging something we couldn’t yet see.
Our home sits on what was once part of a grand 1.5-acre estate built in 1895, surrounded by a beautiful stone wall that still stands about eight feet high at its tallest points.
In the 1950s, a local doctor bought the estate and subdivided it into five city lots. Three were sold to strangers, and the original property became just a fraction of its former size.
Decades later, in the 1980s, a developer built two duplexes on two of those divided lots. Each duplex has two apartments — one upstairs, one downstairs — about 1,300 square feet each. Those duplexes stood between us and the once-connected portions of the land.
A Dream We Laughed About
When my husband and I moved into our home in 2013, we loved its history. Sometimes, while walking along the stone wall, we’d daydream and say,
“Wouldn’t it be amazing to buy all this back someday — to make it one property again?”
We’d laugh because it was completely unrealistic. Two different buildings, two different owners, and real-estate prices that made it impossible. So, it became a playful fantasy — the kind of thing you say with a smile and then go back to cooking dinner or chasing after pets.
But God was listening, even to our jokes.
A Stranger at the Driveway
Fast forward to April 2021. My husband was outside polishing his car when a man walked up the driveway. He introduced himself as the landlord of the duplex right next door — someone we’d never met in the seven years we’d lived there.
He said he was ready to retire, move to Florida, and live a simpler life by the sea. Before putting his building on the market, he wanted to ask us first if we were interested in buying it.
That moment changed everything.
Think about it: he didn’t know us, and at that time houses in our neighborhood were selling faster than ever. Homes were receiving multiple offers within days, many selling for far above the asking price.
He could have listed the building and been done with it. But instead, he waited — and offered it to us directly.
That’s not coincidence. That’s God.
How the Puzzle Pieces Fell Into Place
We soon learned that the lot next to ours— the one closest from our house — had its own story.
Back in the day, that eastern lot had been purchased by a man who lived across the alley behind our property. Eventually, he resold it to the very same couple who later sold our house to us. So even before we arrived, the land’s ownerships were already slowly circling back toward connection — as if the Lord was quietly guiding the pieces home.
When our neighbor approached us that spring, we knew it was an opportunity that felt heaven-sent. We prayed, stepped forward, and purchased the first duplex.
Then, just a month or two later, something unbelievable happened: the second duplex, owned by a completely different person, went up for sale too.
If that one had come up first, we wouldn’t have even considered it — there would have been no reason to buy a building separated from us by another one. But God’s order was perfect.
One property opened the way for the next, exactly when we were ready for it.
Not Chance — Providence
Looking back, everything was connected in ways that only make sense through faith.
The subdivision in the 1950s.
The resale across the alley.
The retirement decision of a stranger we’d never met.
The timing of the market.
The sequence of listings — first one, then the other.
Every detail lined up with precision, down to the month and moment.
If even one part had happened differently, none of this would have worked.
That’s not coincidence. That’s divine orchestration.
A living reminder that the Lord hears even the quiet desires of our hearts — the ones whispered in laughter and forgotten by us, but never forgotten by Him.
Restoring What Once Was
By the end of that summer, we owned both duplexes. For the first time since 1950, all five original city lots were reunited — the property restored to the size it had been more than a century ago.
And for me, a gardener at heart, this meant one thing above all: more room to grow things.
We removed the old wooden fences, reusing the boards to build a lovely horizontal fence. Then I went to work — planting 13 fruit trees (apples, pears, plums, peaches), Hydrangea paniculatas, Hydrangea trees, Heirloom Roses, and a few Japanese maples.
The squirrels, by the way, were thrilled. They’ve been living their best lives — plump, playful, and endlessly entertained by my gardening habits.
And of course, I had to include my signature orange roses — cheerful and full of light.
The wood fence that was dividing the property lines was removed and transformed/ recycled/ reused in an beautiful horizontal fence.
A Brave (and Slightly Risky) Choice
With all the new space, I finally planted my dream trees: two Salix babylonica — Green Weeping Willows.
People love to warn me they’re “messy” and “brittle,” but to me, they’re pure poetry — graceful, nostalgic, and full of movement. When the wind passes through their branches, it’s as if they whisper old stories. They look like something from a Victorian painting — romantic and timeless.
To me, they symbolize the grace of God — strong, bending but never breaking, deeply rooted and forever reaching toward the light.
I planted 13 fruit trees, including apple, pears, plums, peach trees. Several Hydrangeas Panyculadas, Hydrangea Trees, and few Japanese Maple trees.
The Squirrels are partying hard and fattening up around here too!
The Thread Only God Could Weave
When I look back on this journey, I can see it so clearly now — how every event was woven into the next, how every “coincidence” was a stitch in a much bigger design.
If any part had happened earlier or later, it wouldn’t have worked.
If either owner had sold to someone else, the vision would’ve ended.
If we hadn’t been home that day, polishing the car, we might never have met that neighbor at all.
But God’s timing is never late.
He doesn’t rush, and He doesn’t forget.
He aligns everything perfectly — quietly, patiently — until one day, the picture makes sense.
And when it finally comes together, all you can do is stand there in awe, smile, and say, “That was You all along.”
Of course I had to have some more roses.🤗 I’m happy.
God Heard the Desires of Our Hearts
I believe Jesus heard every playful “what if” we ever said. He probably smiled and thought, “Just wait.”
God doesn’t always give His children luxuries, but sometimes — for reasons we can’t explain — He chooses to bless us beyond logic. Not because we deserve it, but because He’s kind and generous and loves to surprise us.
A month or two later, the second building — the one farther down the wall — also came up for sale. And yes, we bought that one too.
If the second building had gone up for sale first, we never would have even considered it. The timing had to be exactly the way it happened — both properties, one after another, aligning perfectly.
Coincidence? Not a chance.
That’s God.
Gratitude
Today, when I walk across the full stretch of our land — from wall to wall — I feel deep peace.
It’s more than property. It’s a testimony of God’s kindness, His timing, and His sense of humor, too. Because I can almost hear Him saying, “See? You thought it was just a dream.”
He restores more than land — He restores hearts.
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;
He leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul.”
— Psalm 23:1–3
Creating my garden.
How My Love for Flowers Took Root
A story of how beauty, faith, and hard work grew into 180 roses—and a lifetime of gratitude.
My love for flowers began in my mid-twenties, when I was living in Seattle, Washington. For eight years, I shared a home with a lovely lady who had one of the most beautiful front-yard gardens in the Wallingford neighborhood.
Each morning I would step outside and stand in awe at the colors, shapes, and endless variety of blossoms that filled her yard. Having spent most of my life in condos, I had never even seen a bi-color rose before. The first time I did, I was completely mesmerized.
Even now, years later, I can still remember the perfume that drifted through the air. Every flower seemed to have its own personality—its own scent, curve, and shade. I often wondered, how can blooms from the same branch look so different from each other? The diversity fascinated me. I never grew tired of that garden or of discovering something new each time I stepped outside.
A garden is a living thing; it changes from one hour to the next. Some days bring new buds, others bring fading petals. For me, every day there was an adventure. Sometimes my friend invited me to help with the yard work, and I always said yes. I loved being outdoors—feeling the breeze on my face, sipping iced lemonade between tasks, and working on something that brought me peace. It was also the best kind of exercise. Who needed a gym when gardening gave me a stronger body, a happier heart, and a little summer tan all at once?
Just fifteen minutes away was Woodland Park Rose Garden—and what a dream that place was! To this day, I can still picture the perfectly manicured rose beds, each plant pruned to the same height, every design thought out with precision and love. It was a tsunami of color that overwhelmed my senses, an explosion of beauty so powerful it felt heavenly. Bees hummed, birds sang, and the air was thick with the fragrance of thousands of blooms. Standing there, I prayed quietly, asking God to one day bless me with a garden of my own.
From Dream to Reality
Years later, when I moved into Château Pinacho, that prayer began to unfold. I spent hours visiting nurseries, studying catalogs, and choosing my first plants. My very first roses were Joseph’s Coat and Zephirine Drouhin—two classics that still make me smile.
What started as a small passion quickly became an obsession. Today I grow more than 180 varieties of roses. They’re breathtaking, but they also keep me humble—especially in May! In the early years, I watered each plant by hand, spending almost five hours every other day with nothing but a hose. When my daughter stopped taking naps, that routine became nearly impossible to maintain.
Then came the summer of 2017—a brutal drought that almost destroyed everything I had built. Watching so many roses struggle under the blazing sun was heartbreaking. That’s when I finally decided to install an irrigation system throughout the beds. It was a major project, but it saved the garden.
If someone had told me six years ago that I’d have a rose garden like this, I never would have believed them. Every morning now, I look out my kitchen window, coffee in hand, and smile.
More Than a Garden
For me, these flowers are more than petals and perfume. They are prayers made visible—a living blend of blessings, miracles, and hard work. The peace and beauty they bring fill my heart in ways I can’t describe. Gardening gives me purpose, patience, and joy that keeps growing right along with the plants.
And even though I’ve long called myself a rose collector, I’m learning to open my heart (and my soil!) to other kinds of flowers too. Life, after all, is about growing—and I’m still blooming right where God planted me.
Buying the house
I always dreamed of having a house with a real backyard — a place where my future kids could grow up the way children used to. I wanted her to have a childhood filled with sunshine and scraped knees, where kids rode bikes, climbed trees, played volleyball, and spent entire afternoons outdoors until the sky turned pink.
Back in 2013, we were living in Falls Church, Virginia. I loved that little city. Our condo was just fifteen minutes from Washington, D.C. and Arlington — a charming two-bedroom unit with big windows and quiet neighbors. It sat in a small three-story building, two condos per floor, tucked away in a peaceful, leafy spot surrounded by parks, coffee shops, and families. It was the kind of place that felt both cozy and alive.
One weekend, to escape the usual D.C. traffic, my husband and I decided to take a detour through Hagerstown. As we drove, we were instantly mesmerized by the rows of old, stately homes — full of character, history, and architectural beauty. Each one sat on a generous lot, whispering stories from another time.
In Falls Church, most homes were brand new — modern “McMansions,” still beautiful in their own way, but a bit soulless. For years, I thought that was my dream — big, new, and shiny. But that day in Hagerstown, I realized my heart longed for something with roots and spirit.
Then we saw it — a gorgeous brick Victorian with tall white columns and a “For Sale” sign planted proudly in the yard. I was so excited I jumped out of the car and knocked on the door. No one answered, so I peeked through the window, just for a second — and in that moment, I was completely smitten.
As I walked back toward the car, a woman pulled into the driveway. I quickly explained why we were there, and she smiled kindly and invited us in. “It’s already under contract,” she said, “but you can look around — just in case something changes.”
The house took my breath away. Rich woodwork, elegant fireplaces in almost every room, and a finished basement that felt like another world entirely. The backyard was spacious — and as I stood there, I started imagining magnolias, roses, and hydrangeas swaying in the breeze. Every few steps, I caught myself whispering, “Wow… oh my goodness… this is my dream house.”
Two weeks later, we found out it had sold. My heart sank.
A few weeks after that, we found ourselves back in Hagerstown, driving down the same street — still daydreaming. I remember thinking, “People who live in these homes are so blessed.” And just as I said that, my husband suddenly pointed and shouted, “Look at that house! And it’s for sale!”
I turned, and my heart nearly stopped. It was like something out of a fairytale — the kind of house you’d see in a Disney movie. I knew in that instant it was meant for us. My heart was racing, and something deep inside me whispered, “That’s the one.”
We knocked on the door, and a young man answered with a polite smile. “You’ll need to call the broker and have your pre-approval ready,” he said. By the time we got back to the car, my husband was already dialing the number.
I barely slept after that — not before the showing, not before the closing. And even now, sometimes I wake up and can’t quite believe I live here.
This house is better than any dream I ever had. It’s not a mansion, and it’s not tiny — it’s just right. Warm, welcoming, full of character. Every room has its own personality, and yet the whole place feels like one big hug.
I often think about that other house — the one that sold before we had a chance. And every time I do, I smile and say a little prayer of gratitude for the neighbors who bought it. Because this one… this is the home God meant for us.
Now, I finally understand the true meaning of “home sweet home.”
God is good.
