In November of 1999, my mom discovered she was pregnant with me, her youngest child. This joyous news came with no indication of the challenges ahead. Early in her pregnancy, she sought advice from her doctor, who surprisingly told her to avoid taking folic acid, a critical nutrient for fetal development. Trusting his professional guidance, she complied, unaware of the serious implications this would have on my development. Over the course of her pregnancy, she had only one ultrasound, which failed to reveal the complications that awaited. Shortly after providing this misguided advice, the doctor left his practice, leaving my mom with unanswered questions that would only surface at my birth.
 
On August 22, 2000, I made my dramatic entrance into the world. During delivery, the midwife’s expression spoke volumes of shock and urgency. Without providing much explanation, they rushed me to a waiting helicopter and airlifted me to the University of Michigan Hospital. My mom, understandably terrified and confused, was unable to join me on the flight. Instead, my aunt drove her to Ann Arbor, where the doctors finally provided clarity and devastating news: I had been born with spina bifida, specifically the most severe form, called Myelomeningocele.

A hole the size of a golf ball had formed in my back, exposing a sac filled with spinal and brain fluid. Immediate surgery was necessary to carefully push the sac back inside my body and close the opening. The doctors warned my mom of the grave risks: if the sac ruptured during the procedure, I could lose my life. By the grace of God, the surgery was successful. However, the prognosis was harsh. The doctors told my mom that I would likely never walk and that my legs would be paralyzed, leaving me dependent on arm crutches or a wheelchair for mobility.
 
But my story didn’t stop there.

At the age of four, my journey took an extraordinary turn. My aunt took me to a tent revival hosted by a pastor at the local fairgrounds. The event was packed, and as we sat among the crowd, the Holy Spirit moved the pastor to pray for me. With my aunt’s permission, the pastor, along with the congregation, laid hands on me and prayed. Once the prayer ended, the pastor looked at me and said, “Walk.” And in that moment, I took my very first steps.
 
Now, 24 years later, I continue to defy the odds. I walk, drive, and have lived independently since I was 19 years old. Every step I take is a testament to the power of faith, determination, and perseverance.
 
Overcoming Challenges Beyond the Physical
 
Living with spina bifida has presented a host of physical challenges, but it has also impacted my education and cognitive development. Growing up, I was diagnosed with a learning disability, which required an Individualized Education Program (IEP) to support my academic journey. Balancing my physical limitations with my educational needs was no easy task. My IEP provided accommodations such as extended time on assignments, specialized instruction, and assistive technology to help me navigate the classroom.
 
While I faced difficulties in areas like reading comprehension, math, and retaining information, I developed strategies to overcome these barriers with the help of dedicated teachers, therapists, and my own determination. My IEP wasn’t just a document, it was a lifeline that empowered me to succeed in ways that many thought were impossible. Through persistence, I graduated from high school and have continued to find ways to grow intellectually and emotionally.
 
Despite these supports, I’ve had to work twice as hard to achieve what came naturally to others. But I believe these challenges have shaped my resilience and strengthened my resolve to pursue my goals, no matter the obstacles.
 
Navigating Life with Spina Bifida
 
Physically, I still face significant challenges. I wear orthotic braces on my legs to help with stability, enabling me to walk longer distances and stand for extended periods. However, my condition limits me in other ways. I cannot participate in contact sports or activities that risk injury to my head or back, due to a placement of a shunt. A shunt is a tube running from my brain to my abdomen that drains excess spinal fluid from my brain. Any damage to the shunt could be life-threatening. Similarly, the nerve damage in my lower back means that even minor trauma could send an electric shock through my body, potentially fatal.
 
These limitations require careful planning and adjustments in my daily life. Yet, I refuse to let them define me. With each challenge I face, I am reminded of the scripture that guides me: “I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength” (Philippians 4:13). My faith has been my anchor, giving me the courage to embrace my journey and inspire others along the way.
 
A Vision for Growth
 
As I reflect on my journey, I see not just the obstacles I’ve overcome but also the opportunities for growth that lie ahead. My story is far from over. I aspire to advocate for others with disabilities, sharing my experiences to raise awareness about the importance of IEPs, accessibility, and inclusion. I aim to explore new ways to strengthen my body and mind, whether through physical therapy, education, or new opportunities that challenge the limits of what I thought was possible.
 
God and I have proven the doctors wrong time and time again, and I plan to continue doing so. My life is a testament to resilience, faith, and the power of community. From the operating room to the classroom to the revival tent, my journey reminds me — and others — that miracles are real, strength is found in adversity, and faith has the power to transform lives.

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Devin Flynn is 24 years old and will turn 25 in August. He’s from Monroe, Michigan, and works as a receptionist at a nursing home. He’s been there for three years now, enjoying his role and the connections he makes with residents and staff every day.

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