Full Draw Faith: Randy’s Heart Transplant Journey

Standing Watch for Him:

2026 has been a doozy.

More than once, I’ve looked up toward Heaven and jokingly said, “Lord, I’d like to return this year with receipts.”

It has felt like one hit after another.

Many of you have walked alongside us through Randy’s health challenges, but there are other battles I haven’t talked much about. While Randy was in the hospital fighting for his life, my step-grandfather died by su***de. There have been struggles at work that have shaken me to my core. There have been heartbreaking situations involving people I love dearly. And when I look around at our world—what we see on social media, what we hear on the news, and what we witness in our own communities—it can leave you wondering what this life is even supposed to be about.

If I’m being honest, there have been moments when I’ve asked God, “Where are You?” Moments when I’ve felt exhausted, discouraged, and overwhelmed by the weight of it all.

But when I look back…

I can see Him.

Not always in the way I expected. Not always in the timing I wanted. But He was there.

He was in the hospital rooms.

He was in the waiting.

He was in the tears.

He was in the unanswered questions.

And somehow, even the hardest things—the things I would have never chosen—have produced tiny miracles along the way.

Today, one of those tiny miracles happened.

I had already left work after a long meeting when I realized I had forgotten my phone. Frustrated, I turned around and went back to my office. As I was walking back out, our chaplain was coming through the door.

He looked at me and said, “I’m so glad I caught you. I don’t have keys to get out the downstairs door.”

Had I remembered my phone, I would have been gone.

Such a small thing.

Or was it?

Moments like that remind me that God is in the details. He places us where we need to be, often without us even realizing it. So many times, I haven’t understood why I was in a certain place, facing a certain circumstance, or walking through a particular trial.

But later, I could see His fingerprints all over it.

I don’t believe in coincidences.

I believe in a God who is present.

A God who is working when I can’t see it.

A God who is writing a story that is bigger than my understanding.

And while I would never choose many of the things this year has brought, I can say with confidence that God has been faithful through every single moment.

Maybe that’s the lesson He keeps teaching me: not that life will make sense, but that He will be there when it doesn’t.

“Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance.” — James 1:2-3

If you’re walking through a hard season, keep going. The miracle may not look like what you expected. Sometimes it’s found in the smallest moments, the quietest provisions, and the gentle reminders that God has never left your side.

Randy Update:

We wanted to give a little update on Randy and ask for continued prayers.

Over the past several weeks, he has been dealing with some ongoing gastrointestinal issues that the doctors are still trying to get to the bottom of. Because of it, he has lost quite a bit of weight. Tomorrow brings more testing, and we are praying for answers, wisdom for his medical team, and a treatment plan that will finally correct the problem.

The good news is that otherwise, he is doing very well overall, and we are incredibly grateful for that. His strength, faith, and determination continue to shine through every day.

We truly appreciate every prayer, message, and act of encouragement. We believe God is still writing this story, and we are trusting Him through every step. ❤️

Standing Watch for Him

I read a comment in one of our transplant groups today that really broke my heart. Someone asked if anyone else ever feels like they are being punished for accepting a new heart… like maybe all the hard things that happen afterward are somehow “payment” for cheating death.

And honestly? I think more transplant families feel this than they are willing to admit out loud.

Because after the miracle comes the reality. The appointments. The medications. The fear. The survivor’s guilt. The unexpected hardships that somehow still happen even after you thought the hardest battle had already been fought.

I have watched Randy fight for his life. I have watched him lay in a hospital bed with a chest full of staples and a body exhausted from simply trying to stay alive. I have watched our family walk through uncertainty that changed every single one of us forever. And yet, even after receiving the miracle of a new heart, life did not suddenly become easy.

But here is what I know with every fiber of my being: God does not rescue us just to punish us later.

A transplant is not “cheating death.” It is a gift allowed by the sovereignty of God Himself. None of us are powerful enough to add one single day to our lives outside of His will. If you are still here, there is purpose in that. There is ministry in that. There is still Kingdom work assigned to your name.

The enemy would love nothing more than to make survivors feel guilty for surviving. He would love to convince you that every hardship afterward is evidence that you somehow escaped what was “supposed” to happen to you. But that is not the voice of God.

Sometimes after trauma, every loss feels louder. Every hard season feels personal. Your heart and mind are still trying to recover while your body is healing too. And when the hits keep coming, it can begin to feel cruelly ironic. I understand that feeling more than I can even explain.

But suffering after survival does not mean God abandoned you. Sometimes it means you are human. Sometimes it means you are still walking through a broken world. And sometimes it means God is still writing a testimony so deep that one day it will help carry someone else through their darkest hour.

Randy’s transplant journey changed our lives forever, but not because we “got away” with something. It changed us because we witnessed the goodness of God in places most people will never have to walk through. We saw miracles in hospital hallways. We saw strangers become family. We saw prayers answered in real time.

And if you are struggling with these thoughts today, please hear this:
You are not being punished for living.

You were saved for a reason. 🤍

“Your eyes saw me when I was formless; all my days were written in Your book and planned before a single one of them began.” — Psalm 139:16

One thing I am learning through this transplant journey is that the biggest changes are not always the dramatic ones people can easily see. Sometimes it is the smallest, simplest things that quietly remind you that life looks different now.

Today it was a pool float.

Something so simple. So ordinary. The kind of thing nobody thinks twice about. You take it out of the package, blow it up, toss it in the water, and move on with your day.

Except now… even blowing up a pool float has become a scheduled process in our house.

Not because we are complaining. Not because it is some huge burden. Honestly, it is just one of those things I am realizing along the way. People with asthma are often advised not to blow things up like this because it can trigger breathing issues, and after transplant there are just extra precautions and considerations attached to everyday life.

And while this may seem so small to most people, I think what weighs on my husband the most is not the float itself… it is the fact that I no longer ask him to do these things.

For a man who has spent his whole life doing everything he possibly could for his wife and family, that adjustment is hard. Probably harder than most people realize.

He is trying so hard to get back to himself. To regain strength. To regain independence. To feel useful in all the ways he always has been.

So this post is not about sadness or frustration. It is simply about awareness. About recognizing the quiet changes that happen after transplant that nobody really talks about.

The little pauses.
The small adjustments.
The moments where you realize life has changed in ways you never expected.

But even in these moments, God is teaching us something beautiful — that love is not less valuable when it looks different.

Sometimes love is protecting.
Sometimes love is waiting.
Sometimes love is letting others help carry what you once carried yourself.

And sometimes love is a husband who would still blow up every pool float for his wife if he could.

“Bear ye one another’s burdens, and so fulfil the law of Christ.”
Galatians 6:2

Caregiver Chronicles | Standing Watch for Him

There was a season before Randy’s heart transplant when I barely left his side. Day and night, hospital room after hospital room, monitor alarms, medication schedules, prayers whispered under my breath, and pleading with God for one more day… I stayed planted right beside him.

But there was one moment… one very important moment post heart transplant… that I came home for.

Garlan Ray’s senior recognition basketball game.
💙💛

That night someone asked Garlan how Randy was doing, and somewhere in the middle of that conversation my baby boy spoke his truth:

“As long as he makes it home for graduation.”

I don’t know if people realize the weight those words carried.

Because when you’ve stared fear in the face long enough… when you’ve watched someone fight for every heartbeat… “making it home” becomes protected from interference.

And y’all… God heard every prayer.

Not only did Randy make it home… he made it to graduation.

He stood there beside us, living proof that miracles still walk among us.

This picture is more than a graduation photo.
It is evidence of God’s mercy.

Evidence that prayers spoken through tears still reach Heaven.

Evidence that even when the road is terrifying, God is still writing the story.

There were moments we didn’t know what tomorrow would hold. Moments exhaustion and fear tried to steal our faith. But God remained faithful in every hallway, every surgery, every setback, and every victory.

And seeing Randy standing beside Garlan Ray on this milestone day felt like the Lord gently whispering: “I told you I wasn’t finished yet.”

Sometimes the miracle isn’t just survival.
Sometimes the miracle is getting to witness the moments you were afraid you’d miss.

📖 “The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” — Exodus 14:14

Tonight my heart is overflowing with gratitude.
For healing.
For family.
For second chances.
And for a God who still performs miracles in the middle of impossible situations.

Happy Nurses Week from Full Draw Faith. 🏹💙

This Nurses Week feels different for me.

As a nurse myself, I have always respected this profession. I understand the education, the sacrifice, the clinical judgment, the emotional exhaustion, and the weight nurses carry every single shift. I know what happens behind the scenes that most people never see.

But walking through Randy Keene’s transplant journey as the wife instead of the nurse changed me forever.

To the CVICU nurses, NPs, DNPs, and staff at Emory University Hospital and the incredible ER nurses at Emory Perry Hospital — thank you will never feel big enough.

I watched some of the most brilliant nursing care I have ever witnessed unfold in front of me day after day. I saw nurses catch subtle changes before monitors alarmed. I watched you advocate fiercely, move with precision under pressure, and care for Randy with both excellence and compassion. You treated him like more than a patient. You treated him like family.

As a clinician, I recognized the critical thinking, the skill, and the level of expertise it took to keep him alive.

As his wife, I saw the heart behind it all.

To me, nursing has never just been a career. It is a calling to stand in the gap when people are vulnerable, hurting, afraid, and fighting battles they never asked for. It is being a calm voice in chaos, an advocate when patients cannot advocate for themselves, and a source of strength when families are falling apart. Nursing is science and compassion meeting in the middle of someone’s worst day.

And during this journey, I got to witness that calling lived out in the most powerful way possible.

You held my hand during devastating moments. You explained things when fear made it hard to process. You celebrated victories with us that probably seemed small to the outside world but meant everything to our family. You carried us through some of the darkest days of our lives.

Even though I cannot possibly call each of you by name, I hope somehow this message finds you. I want every single one of you to know how deeply grateful I am for the care, compassion, knowledge, reassurance, prayers, and strength you poured into Randy and our family. Your work mattered. YOU mattered. And I pray each of you are blessed the way you have blessed so many others.

There is something sacred about nursing. It is science, skill, discernment, sacrifice, and compassion all woven together in moments that can literally mean life or death. And each of you embodied that calling beautifully.

God absolutely performed miracles throughout Randy’s journey, but I firmly believe He worked through the hands, minds, and hearts of the nurses who stood beside him every single day.

From the bottom of my heart—thank you for every role you played in saving my husband’s life. We will never forget you.

“Carry each other’s burdens, and in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ.” — Galatians 6:2

Happy Mother’s Day to all the Mothers and Mothers to be. ❤️

But, to my Mother:

There are people God places in your life that become part of your strength when you no longer have any left of your own—and for me, that person has always been my mom.

I truly do not know how I would have made it through those 52 days at Emory without her. In the moments I felt like I could not physically or emotionally keep going, it was the thought of knowing she would be there in a few hours, the next morning—or that all I had to do was call—and she would come, that carried me through.

She sat with us in fear, prayed with us in uncertainty, cried with us in exhaustion, and somehow still found ways to encourage me when I felt empty. She never asked for recognition. She just showed up over and over again in the quiet, sacrificial ways only a mother can.

Watching someone you love fight for their life changes you. But watching your mother stand beside you while you walk through it reminds you what unconditional love really looks like.

Momma, thank you for being steady when I was falling apart, faithful when I was afraid, and strong when I had nothing left to give. I love you more than words will ever fully explain.

Happy Mother’s Day from all of us at Full Draw Faith.

“She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come.” — Proverbs 31:25

CAREGIVER CHRONICLES | Standing Watch for Him

Sunday reminded me yet again that transplant life changes you forever.

Randy got sick suddenly — dizzy, pale, blurry vision, nauseated, vomiting — and just like that our entire world stopped. Because when you love and care for a transplant patient, every symptom matters. Every single one.

The truth is rejection, infection, medication issues, dehydration, kidney complications, and countless other things can all “look like anything.” There is no luxury of assuming it’s “probably nothing.” So we do what transplant families are taught to do… we react quickly, we call the transplant team, and we go.

What made the whole situation so frustrating was sitting in the ER trying to explain Randy’s heart transplant history only to feel unheard. At four months post-transplant, his body does not function like a routine cardiac patient. Transplant medicine is different. His transplant cardiologist at Emory was even shocked today that the ER physician’s ego would not allow him to actually hear what I was trying to explain regarding Randy’s transplant physiology and history.

And honestly? That shook me.

Because caregivers stand watch constantly. We learn medications, lab values, symptoms, side effects, warning signs, fluid balances, rejection risks, infection risks, and all the little details that become life-or-death details in this world. Not because we want to — but because love teaches us how.

Today at Emory we had a long day filled with labs, medication changes, and another echo. Now we wait. Again.

Hopefully in the next few days we will know more.

Until then, we are asking for prayers. Specific prayers? We honestly don’t even fully know yet. But what we DO know is this:

Prayer works.God sustains.And we have seen too many miracles already to stop believing now.

Thank you all for continuing to stand watch with us.