A Year Later

A year ago, I put to paper words I never thought I would share, let alone publish on a blog that seemingly anyone could stumble upon and read. Well, actually, once I initially decided I was going to share this piece of Preston’s story in recognition of AVM Awareness Month approaching, I took to writing every chance I could get. And I didn’t enjoy it. It felt like a task I had set for myself—one I wouldn’t allow myself to put away until it was finished. My fingers would tap feverishly on the keys of my Mac computer. No pauses. No hesitation. I knew exactly what I wanted to say because it had been in my head for months. Every word. Every comma, every pause for effect. 

And in this mindset of wanting to close out the piece so hastily—just so I could get on with everything going on around me—something else occurred: for the first time, I wrote from a place of total honesty and vulnerability. It was raw in form and came not as the buttoned-up, obedient pageant girl I thought people would want to read from.

Don’t get me wrong, I certainly held back in specific places, choosing to save those parts for another day and another medium. But for the most part, it was written without a filter, and before I had even reached midway, I realized it could never be shared.

I had said too much. What would people think?

But I kept writing. I didn’t stop. Again, I was on a mission, one I wouldn’t allow myself to begin to ease away from until I had reached where I believed the piece should conclude. 

A year ago, I shared my 24-page Google document. I read it again and again. I knew it backwards and forwards; it was all mine. And each time I read it, I came to the same conclusion: I can’t share this like I initially set out to do for AVM Awareness Month.

Then I read it once again and, for some reason, thought there might actually be something here. What that something was, I couldn’t say at the time, and I’m not sure if I could even now.

I prayed about it, sometimes without ceasing, it seemed, and finally decided I was going to share it like I had originally set out to do.

The truth is, something in my heart wouldn’t allow me to walk away from it. As terrified as I was, maybe what I had created needed to be read by just one person. And to just put it bluntly, I had also put too much time and effort into it to just let it go.

The clock was ticking if I was going to get this published within the month of October, and so I couldn’t back out, the night before I decided I would share my words, I posted on my Instagram story that a new blog post for prestonstrong.org would be shared the following day at a specific time. Not that anyone would be waiting for my new blog at 8 p.m., but again, so I couldn’t back out.

As soon as I posted that announcement, if you will, I wanted to take it down and act like it never happened. And once the curious texts and DMs from friends started trickling in, I wondered if anyone would notice if nothing was ever published.

A year ago, I shared “What I Never Thought I’d Put to Paper,” and the indescribable outpouring of love from my community and literally from those around the globe has touched me more deeply than I can express. Thank you for loving and hating it as much as I do—loving the story of resilience in God’s perfect plan yet wrestling with the fact that bad things happen to those who are good, like we’ve seen all too recently. 

And unlike ever before, it's taken me three months to even begin to try and think to put into words how God has now moved in Preston’s journey this year. I still don’t have the words, so you’re going to have to do with just the mere facts. And for the record, it’s not my intention to publish one of these every October—it is my prayer that there will be no more material to share.

I share now again, in timing and tribute to AVM Awareness Month this October but more specifically to proclaim how Preston’s journey has been used as a vessel of God’s goodness in His perfect plan.

Preston's check-up with Dr. Valle, July 2025

Everything Preston endured with a face of strength and courage in the last two years was not for loss. This summer, after yet another 11-hour drive to Naples, Florida, to see the wonderful Dr. Valle, we learned where we stand with the two brain AVMs found in 2023. 

Though it is not an official stamp of approval, as that would require another dreaded and taxing angiogram, it appears that both AVMs are gone.

At 16, Preston was diagnosed with an inoperable brain AVM. He fought, God moved mountains and performed miracles, and Preston was given his life back, free of limitations.

At 22, Preston was diagnosed with two AVMs, considerably less severe than the first but, due to their locations in the brain and the mere fact they would inevitably grow, they caused some concern and needed action through treatment (let’s be real, an AVM is essentially a ticking time bomb regardless).

Now, a few days into 24, Preston is a three-time AVM survivor with nothing holding him back. 

I ended my last piece with the notion that there’s so much more to tell when it comes to Preston’s journey, and that it may also one day be put to paper. 

I’ll see you then.

Our favorite restaurant in Naples, Brooks Burgers