There are moments in life when the body reminds you that it has limits.
Recently, I broke the middle finger on my right hand and tore the tendon along with it. Something simple—something most people never think twice about—suddenly changed the way I do everyday things.
Typing became slower.
Writing became harder.
Even lifting things required thought and adjustment.
It would have been easy to stop for a while. To wait until things healed. To put things on hold.
But something in me wouldn’t let that happen.
Because purpose doesn’t wait for perfect conditions.
History has shown us that time and time again.
Franklin D. Roosevelt lost the use of his legs due to polio. At a time when strength and physical presence were seen as essential to leadership, he faced a reality that could have ended his public life.
But it didn’t.
He adapted.
He pushed forward.
He led.
Not because his body allowed it—but because his purpose demanded it.
I am not comparing my situation to his. Not even close.
But I understand something now that I may not have fully understood before.
Limitations don’t stop us.
They force us to adjust.
And in that adjustment, something else happens.
We grow.
This injury has slowed me down, yes.
But it has also made me more aware.
More intentional.
More appreciative of what I can still do.
And more determined to continue writing.
Because the truth is, we all carry something.
Some of it is visible.
Some of it is not.
But it does not take away what we have to offer.
Not Forgotten, Still Felt isn’t just about history.
It’s about people.
And people have always found a way to move forward—even when things were taken from them.
So I will keep writing.
Not because it’s easy right now.
But because it matters.
Not Forgotten, Still Felt 
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