What if your hardest hospital stories became someone else’s lifeline? 💜

This week, I’m joined by Tina Marie Medlin, founder of Warrior Braids Ministry, who has lived with Crohn’s disease for over 30 years, undergone 52 surgeries, and found purpose through faith, creativity, and community.

In this conversation, Tina shares her journey with chronic illness, how she started Warrior Braids Ministry, the power of community support, and what it truly means to be a “warrior.” We talk about hope, exhaustion, near-death moments, and the grace that carries us when we want to give up.

Whether you’re walking through your own valley or supporting someone who is, this episode is a beautiful reminder that you are never alone—and that God can bring victory even in the hardest seasons. 🌿

In This Episode You’ll Hear:

✨ Living with Crohn’s, an ostomy, and 52 surgeries

✨ Finding purpose through Warrior Braids Ministry

✨ The story behind Warrior Boxes & Christ and Coffee Time

✨ The power of community and faith when you want to give up

✨ What being a “warrior” really means

Memorable Quotes:

💬 “If my eyes opened this morning, God still has work for me to do.” — Tina Marie Medlin

💬 “A warrior isn’t unbreakable; a warrior is honest. Your story can be someone else’s guide.” — Tina

💬 “He didn’t give me Crohn’s, but He gave purpose to my having it.” — Tina

💬 “I push because it’s not about me—it’s about what God asked me to do.” — Tina

Resources Mentioned:

• 💌 Warrior Braids Ministry
• 📸 Instagram: @warriorbraidsministry
• ☕ Christ & Coffee Time (merch that funds Warrior Boxes)

Credits:

Host: April Aramanda

Guest: Tina Marie Medlin

Editing & Production: April Aramanda

Music: “The Invisible Illness Club” Theme

© 2025 The Invisible Illness Club Podcast

Transcription

April: All right, Tina, I am so excited to have you here today.

Tina: Okay. Perfect.

April: I’ve been really looking forward to this conversation because your story—and your heart for helping other women walking through chronic illness with faith and honesty—are so powerful. Welcome to The Invisible Illness Club.

Tina: Thank you. I was so excited to hear about this podcast, and I’m so glad we finally got together. It’s been a—

April: I know. We’ve been trying to do this for months, folks. Months.

Tina: When you have an invisible illness, it doesn’t always work.

April: Exactly. So, Tina, for listeners who might be new to you, give us a little bit about your story—how your health journey began.

Tina: Sure. I was diagnosed with Crohn’s about 30 years ago. For the first five to ten years or so, I was kind of in denial. I was in my 20s—you’re invincible in your 20s. I didn’t always take the medicine the way I was supposed to. I mean, I did… but I didn’t—back and forth. Then I started getting sicker and sicker. I had to start taking more powerful meds and did that for many years, on and off—every new biologic that came out, I was put on it. Unfortunately, I had adverse reactions. One drug gave me drug-induced lupus. With two other drugs, I started running high fevers. We kept trying different meds and, of course, had to fight insurance companies—that’s a whole other podcast.

Finally, in 2013, I had to have my colon removed and part of my small intestine and rectum, so I live with an ostomy now. I’ve had complications with that through the years. Most recently, in June, I had a parastomal hernia; part of my small intestine coiled up, so they had to go in and fix that, and then there were more complications.

Tina: It’s weird right now—52 is my number. That’s how many operations I’ve had. They haven’t all been Crohn’s-related, but I’m 52 and I’ve had 52 surgeries. I’d really like to keep going with my age with no more operations.

April: Be done at 52—yes, I would too.

Tina: Exactly. That would be great. But yeah, that’s the story of the Crohn’s side.

April: Wow. The quick and dirty.

Tina: Yeah.

April: So, Crohn’s disease, an ostomy bag… I hear liver disease, fibromyalgia—so many different things.

Tina: Yep. Yes.

April: That’s a lot to carry. What has that looked like for you day to day? And how has your perspective changed over the years?

Tina: As I get older, it gets harder. When I was younger, I had my flare days and bad days, but I bounced back fairly quickly—especially when I needed to for work. Now, if I do events or conferences, I’m down for the count for a few days. I just have to rest. I slept most of Sunday after an event on Saturday. My body has changed. A lot of people say they’re slowing down as they get older, and I am too—but I don’t know if I’m slowing down faster or if it just hits me differently. It’s definitely a struggle day to day. It’s hard to schedule things because I never know how I’m going to feel.

I try to have a positive attitude and I schedule for my well-being, but I always preface anything—events or otherwise—with “things can change,” because I’m not quite sure how I’ll feel. That’s frustrating for me and, I’m sure, for the person on the other end.

April: That can be really hard—waking up already feeling awful on a day you have errands, a doctor’s appointment, a conference—whatever. That was me yesterday. I had hardly any laundry left, but I still had to go do laundry while recovering from other things. Sometimes it just is what it is.

Tina: Yeah. It’s hard.

April: We have to change our mindset in those moments: “Okay, I have to get this done—where can I squeeze in rest in the middle of it?”

Tina: Right. I took a little nap between the podcast this morning and this one. I was like, “Okay, how much longer can I sleep before I have to get up?” At least let me brush my hair. I have to look presentable. Okay—it’s still good from this morning.

April: Exactly.

Tina: It’s an interesting life. As I get older, I’m a lot more transparent about my disease than I was even ten years ago. I’ve always been open, but having the social media platform and starting Warrior Braids Ministry—I feel like I’ve been dealt these cards for a reason. People ask, “Aren’t you mad at God because He gave you Crohn’s?” I’m like, He didn’t give me Crohn’s, but He clearly has a purpose for me in it. I try to be positive. I know it’s my purpose on this earth, and I want to be obedient and faithful to Him.

I actually wrote a little “lesson” on Facebook about why I push myself. People ask, “If you know you’re going to be out for three days, why do you push?” Because it’s not about me. I’m not doing reckless things—I’m doing what God’s asked me to do. He’ll be my strength to get through it. Then I rest, and then I look for the next thing, because I want to live.

April: That leads well into my next question: using our pain for purpose. Can you walk us through the moment—or the season—when God started showing you how to take all of this and turn it into a ministry?

Tina: It’s a fun story. I just spoke about this at a conference a couple of weeks ago. I call it my little mustard seed. I was in the hospital recovering from surgery. It was very quiet—no one was coming in for vitals—and I heard a whisper: “I have a job for you. I have something for you to do.” I thought, okay, it’s the meds—I hit the button one too many times. But it kept sitting with me: “I have something for you. I want you to do something for Me.” Basically, He said, “I want you to start a ministry for people with chronic illnesses. I want you to help people know that they’re not alone.”

I was like, okay, but I’m sick. I’m in the hospital. How am I supposed to do that? Nothing happened immediately—just the seed was planted. At that time, I was still working. It kept tugging at me. Fast forward about a year: I had a very close call at the hospital in Chapel Hill. I don’t tell this story often, but my best friend had passed away a year prior—she was a nurse—and I saw her. I had coded; it was crazy. I thought I was ready to go, and she said, “No, you’re not. It’s not your time. You have something big you’re going to be doing.” Between that and the whisper, I was like, “Okay, God.”

Warrior Braids was born—very small at first. I wasn’t sure what I was doing. It started with a Warrior Box—which might be your next question.

April: Yes—go ahead and explain it to us.

Tina: A Warrior Box is a custom-made box we send to people newly diagnosed with cancer or another disease, or those suffering with an existing chronic illness. People can request a box through our website. We ask questions to get to know the person—favorite color, favorite scripture, hobbies, things they like or don’t like, even scents for candles. Then we put the box together and send it with a note saying who requested it. It’s so funny—those boxes arrive exactly at the right time. Even if I think I’m late—God’s timing. Over the summer when I was in the hospital, I had boxes to fill and wasn’t there to do it. God was like, “It’s okay.” They got there when they needed to.

That’s a big part of our ministry—that’s how it started.

April: That is awesome. I know you also lead Christ & Coffee Time. I’ve been sipping my afternoon coffee—tell us what that is and how it fits with everything.

Tina: Christ & Coffee Time is our shop where we sell Christian merchandise, and the proceeds go right back into the ministry to help fund our Warrior Boxes and other projects. We’re hoping to offer scholarships and we’re planning a retreat—hopefully in 2026 or 2027—for people with chronic illness, a Christian-based retreat with speakers.

I love creating—bracelets, t-shirts—all the designs are unique to Warrior Braids Ministry and Christ & Coffee Time. It’s fun; I get to use the creative side of me, and it helps a good cause. A lot of my days are spent on the couch or in bed. There are days you feel like you haven’t accomplished anything. Having something creative gives me something to occupy my mind and hands. When I was feeling really down—especially on couch-bound days—I started writing down what I accomplished, even if it was small: “I made four bracelets,” or “I designed some t-shirts,” or “I wrote a chapter in my book.” It sounds simple, but when you’re not doing a typical 9-to-5, you still want to feel like you’ve accomplished something. You don’t want to feel lazy. Sometimes you’re limited, so you have to find ways to lift yourself up a bit.

April: Our bodies weren’t made to sit all day. For those of us who have to, it becomes difficult. We get in our heads, saying things to ourselves that are lies. Having something to do—especially if you’re creative—gives your mind a break. By the way, y’all, these bracelets are some of the most beautiful I’ve seen in a while.

Tina: Just let me know—I’ll send you one.

April: Having something for your hands gives your brain something to do besides picking up your phone and dividing your attention.

Tina: Exactly.

April: I’ll be sitting there during football and baseball season saying, “All right, you can watch the game; I’ll make this scarf.” We know living like this isn’t all rainbows and unicorns—though I wish it were; I love unicorns. When it comes to chronic illness, what are some of the hardest truths you wish people without one understood better?

Tina: First: your outward appearance isn’t always how you feel. When someone says, “Oh my gosh, you look good,” I appreciate it, but it can feel like nails on a chalkboard—because you know how bad you feel. I don’t expect people to understand what I go through day to day—and I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy—but try to be more understanding. If we’re not able to do something, please don’t hold it against us.

Spoon Theory is big in our house. “How many spoons do you have left today? Did you start with any?” I’m usually in a deficit—sometimes a two-day deficit.

Also, I appreciate when people ask how I’m feeling, but I want to be defined as more than my illness. There’s a balance between being an advocate, being positive, helping others who feel alone—and also not being reduced to Crohn’s. I’m more than Crohn’s.

April: That’s your answer—and that’s what matters. The truth is, in one sense we are defined by chronic illness because it’s always there; we don’t stop thinking about it. But we also want to be a mother, sister, wife, businessperson—we don’t want to only talk about it.

Tina: Right. I often come back to the ministry because I want to get the word out—but that’s not all of me.

April: Community is clearly important to you. What role have the right people played in your healing and faith journey? And by healing, I don’t mean physical bodies—most of us may never see that. I mean healing from the trauma of having a chronic illness and trying to move through it.

Tina: Not giving up on me, always being there. My girls have been amazing—I’ve had Crohn’s longer than they’ve been alive. I was a single parent for a long time. They had their go-bags; they were so supportive. My oldest took on a lot at home. A few weeks ago, she went with me to Washington, D.C., to advocate for the Crohn’s & Colitis Foundation—full circle for her. Her little sister has stepped up too since big sis moved to Florida.

My husband has been great. He married me without fully understanding the disease—I wasn’t as forthcoming while dating, and I’ve apologized—but he hasn’t gone anywhere. A few days after our honeymoon, I had bad complications and had to go to Chapel Hill. It’s been non-stop, and he’s always been there to advocate and help—at home and in the hospital. My parents were huge supports when I was a single mom—they tag-teamed visits to help when I was really sick. Before my ostomy surgery, I was running very high fevers and losing a half-pound a day. My surgeon said, “If you don’t have the surgery, you’re going to die.” That made the decision.

I also have a community that’s been with me through thick and thin. When I turned 50, I had a party—not for me, but for the people who helped me get there—doctors, nurses, friends. It was a testament to them. I used to pray, “Let me get my girls to 18.” Now I’m like, “Wait—can I take that back? I want to be a grandma.” I didn’t feel well the day of the party—that was a bummer—but I’ve been blessed with a village that’s shown up in different seasons. When the girls were young, other moms helped with school runs; we’re still friends. Now I have another group of ladies helping me grow spiritually and become who Jesus wants me—and the ministry—to be. We have a limited amount of time here, and we don’t know the end date, so I’m trying to get as much done as I can.

April: That’s a testament to those of us who have that kind of circle. I have a small one, but they’re amazing—especially my husband. I know many of you listening don’t have that. I see it in the Facebook groups all the time. You get to choose who’s in your circle—choose wisely.

Tina: One more thing about the ministry: we have a small support group once a month—the first Thursday—on Zoom. Anyone anywhere can join—people struggling with chronic illness or caregivers. We don’t want to forget caregivers. It’s faith-based. It’s not a “poor me” space—we dig into Scripture, try to find purpose in pain, and remind people they’re not alone. We also have a Telegram chat to support each other between meetings. We’re expanding this because it can be lonely and isolating, depending on what you’re struggling with. Some illnesses are easier to talk about than others. We want people to know this is a place you can talk without judgment—we all have something, and we understand.

April: If you’re looking for community, I suggest you look into that. It can be hard to find people who understand and have compassion. Even caregivers get tired; I’ve been both caregiver and patient. So yes—look into it. This has been over 30 years for you. Were there moments you wanted to give up?

Tina: Yes. I can tell you about my most recent one. When I was having complications these last couple of months in Chapel Hill—I had never had an NG tube in all my years with Crohn’s. I experienced my first NG tube. For those who don’t know, it goes through your nose, down the back of your throat, into your stomach. It basically suctions what’s in your belly out. It’s uncomfortable, and you can’t eat, drink, or brush your teeth. You just lie there miserable. That was six days of my life post-surgery, and it was horrible.

I felt like I had God on one shoulder and the devil on the other. The devil was like, “Just give up. You can’t get through this.” God was saying, “I am your strength. You will get through this. Don’t give up.” It was spiritual warfare. I slept a lot because I didn’t want to be awake for it. Every day I asked the doctors, “Can I get this tube out?” “Not today.” It was very difficult.

Another time: they were stretching my ostomy every 4–6 weeks because I kept getting blockages. One time, they accidentally nicked an artery—but we didn’t know until the next day. I noticed blood and thought, “I’ve never seen that.” The doctor said, “You’re bleeding internally.” Into the hospital I went. They fixed it and kept me overnight. The next morning, I changed my bag and it looked like a gunshot wound—it started bleeding again. The clamps or cauterization didn’t hold. They said, “We have to take you back to the OR now, or you’re going to bleed out.” I had just eaten, so they had to take me with no anesthesia. I was completely awake—they went through my ostomy trying to clamp it. I could hear, smell, see everything. My doctor said, “I had no idea you knew all those words.” They used smelling salts to keep me from passing out. I ended up as a case study. It was so hard. But God got me through it.

April: Shoot, girl—I thought my last kidney biopsy was bad. I’ll take that over this. It’s a miracle of God you’re alive—and now a case study. That kind of slow leak is a very close call.

Tina: Yeah. It was crazy.

April: Praise God. All right. You’ve got some stories—write a book.

Tina: I need to!

April: What would you say to the woman listening who feels stuck in the valley and can’t possibly see the victory ahead?

Tina: I’ve been that woman. First and foremost, find community. When you’re that down, you need people to pull you up. I’d say “find Jesus,” and if you haven’t yet—find a community that points you to Him. If my eyes open in the morning, then God has more work for me to do. I’d tell her that: if your eyes opened, God still has work for you. You may not see it—trust the next step you can’t see. He has a purpose for you. That’s where blind faith comes in. Many times I shouldn’t be here—you shouldn’t be here—many listening shouldn’t be here. But God clearly wants us here. That’s an honor. One foot in front of the other, one second at a time. And I’ll be one of the people at the bottom of the valley helping her get up.

April: I see that in you. If you haven’t looked into Tina and her work, please do. I see your desire to build community and bring women alongside you. It’s beautiful.

Tina: Thank you.

April: As we wrap up: when you look back now, what does “warrior” mean to you?

Tina: It means community. It means not walking alone. It means being willing to let people help you—and being willing to help others. You can’t only receive help; a warrior gives back too. A warrior isn’t someone nothing ever bothers. A warrior is transparent and honest about what they’re going through, and that honesty helps others. A true warrior is also a storyteller—sharing their triumphs and tragedies to help people. Your story can be someone else’s guidebook. That’s why I’m open—not for sympathy, though sometimes people think that—but because God clearly has a purpose for it. It’s meant to be shared to help others. There are many kinds of warriors—no one definition—but overall, a warrior wants to help others and never gives up. Just never, never give up.

April: Tina, thank you so much for sharing your story and your heart today. I know so many women listening are going to feel seen, heard, strengthened, and understood by your honesty.

Tina: Thank you for having me. I appreciate it.

April: Of course. If you’d like to connect with Tina, you can find her on Instagram at @warriorbraidsministry or visit warriorbraidsministry.org. I’ll have all the links in the show notes. And friend—if this conversation encouraged you—make sure you subscribe to The Invisible Illness Club podcast and our newsletter, The Unseen Sisterhood, so you don’t miss future episodes. And don’t forget: even when life feels like one long valley, there’s still victory ahead. You’re not walking this road alone.