At the moment I finished writing “Roses and Thorns (24),”
I gently set down my pen.
In that instant, I thought—
my story had finally come to an end.
That chapter of my life—
of being deceived, emptied, and torn apart—
seemed to have been fully written.
I even told myself:
“Now, I can move forward.”
So I did not stop.
I immediately began working on my book,
and at the same time, started developing a film script.
Since last November,
I have hardly truly stopped.
Writing, without pause.
Remembering, without pause.
Digging out the pain, word by word.
To say I wasn’t in a hurry would be a lie.
Every time I heard that someone else had been scammed—
my heart would tighten again.
That urgency was not just emotion.
It was a force pushing me forward.
The more urgent it felt, the faster I wrote.
The deeper the pain, the deeper I went.
Until the day before yesterday.
Suddenly, I felt—
I was tired.
Not the kind of tired that gives up,
but a quiet exhaustion,
as if my soul needed stillness.
So I decided to pause.
As I often do,
I walked into the rose garden.
With pruning shears in hand,
I trimmed each branch, one by one.
Sometimes, I would take a hoe,
clearing the weeds growing between the roses.
These movements, to me,
are as natural as breathing.
When I am tired,
when the pressure becomes too much,
I return to the roses.
That evening, I prayed.
And in that stillness—
a voice came clearly into my heart:
“Miracles will continue to happen.”
I didn’t think much of it.
I simply held those words within me.
That night, I even planned to go to bed early.
But just as I was about to turn off the light—
an email appeared.
It had been forwarded to me by my daughter.
I opened it.
And I froze.
It was a letter from Legal Assistance for Seniors (LAS).
That organization was not unfamiliar to me.
In 2024, I had stood at their conference and spoken.
That day, my grandson, my attorney, and I stood together on stage—
three generations,
facing the same kind of scam,
with one shared story.
It was not an ordinary talk.
It was a testimony—
opening a wound for the world to see.
For years, LAS has stood on the front lines for older adults—
giving voice to the unheard,
providing legal support to the injured,
and protecting those struggling at the edges of the system.
They do not serve just individuals,
but an entire generation being eroded by fraud.
And now—
an organization like this was writing to me.
In the letter, they said:
They wished, at this year’s conference,
to present me with the Katy Brady Advocacy Award.
An award given to someone—
“who, in the face of great adversity, continues to speak for justice.”
In that moment, I suddenly understood—
that God’s miracle
had already happened that very morning.
I had simply spent the entire day
with my head lowered among the roses—
pruning, digging, clearing—
and did not see it.
Human plans cannot compare to what heaven arranges.
I thought my story was finished.
I thought I could set down my pen for a while.
But now I know—
this story is not over.
It is no longer just a story of being scammed.
It is becoming—
a voice that is heard,
a life that is seen,
a mission that continues to unfold.
Perhaps what I wrote was not an ending.
But simply
another beginning.
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