In this intimate October 1, 2019 reflection, Lyn Goffaux shares the raw, unpolished truth of coming home after a difficult stay in a nursing facility. She begins simply: “I’m home,” repeating it like a mantra as she tries to make peace with how fragile her body now feels after a stroke and weeks away. Lyn talks about the shock of realizing she is weaker than she expected, describing how walking with a rollator and even being pushed in a wheelchair at church left her exhausted and dependent on others in ways she never imagined.

Lyn reflects on her time in the nursing home with gratitude for the kindness of the staff, yet with sadness and discomfort about the condition of many residents around her. She notices how some people seem to be in a “second childhood,” and she marvels at the patience of the aides and nurses who care for them day after day. At the same time, she is deeply frustrated by the so-called “restorative” therapy program: a room full of “terrible equipment,” chronically short-staffed, with only one or two workers trying to serve everyone who might want or need rehabilitation. She explains how no one came to get her for therapy, how easy it was to just not go, and how that decision left her struggling to walk when she finally returned home.

Back in her own space on this October day, Lyn takes stock of her life and responsibilities. She talks candidly about money returning to her bank account, the reality of a twelve-thousand-dollar nursing home bill, and the need to call Julie to settle what she owes and even to figure out how to handle her tithing. There is a sense of sorting and prioritizing—of putting financial, spiritual, and practical matters in order—before she moves on to the next chapter at a place she calls Heartland. She doesn’t know exactly when she will go, but she knows there will be tests ahead, including proving that she can safely transfer from bed to chair to toilet on her own.

Lyn also turns to the people who give her life color. She mentions Lolo, neighbors like Jen and Sue, and Sue’s handwritten work on seventeen generations of genealogy. These small community connections and projects inspire her, even as her own body slows her down. Lyn talks about art—her pastels, which others call chalk—and about trying to create again in a group setting. The first day goes “fairly well,” but afterward her energy and ability falter. Still, she looks forward to bringing her beloved pastels, many inherited from Ally, into this next season of life, even as she plans to give some away.

She paints a vivid picture of the rooms she expects at Heartland: two long, narrow spaces with tall skinny windows, a little refrigerator that she hopes has a tiny freezer for ice cream, and just enough room for the furniture that really matters to her. She wrestles with what to bring and what to release—couches, rugs, plants—wanting comfort but also freedom to move her wheelchair. One bright spot is learning that the doctor’s office will give her cherished plants a new home, a small but meaningful answer to prayer.

Throughout this diary-like episode, Lyn weaves in family: a deeply personal update about Mary, who traveled to Spain for serious surgery after seizures and passing out, and who now faces a seven-year nerve healing journey and the end of her childbearing years. Lyn honors Mary’s three “handsome” children and rejoices that the youngest is talking clearly and potty trained at two. She dreams about a future summer when Mary and Jared might visit, mentally arranging beds, couches, and blow-up mattresses to make room for everyone in her home.

“Coming Home Weaker” is a tender, candid audio snapshot of aging, disability, faith, art, family, and the hard work of beginning again after illness. Lyn’s voice offers honesty without self-pity, gratitude without glossing over the pain, and hope that, little by little, she can grow stronger even as life keeps changing around her.