This will be my first entry since the one-year anniversary of my injury. September 1 was just a day for John and I. We didn’t take it too seriously or get too emotional about it; but it has given me the chance to look back over the past year of events and just reflect.
From the very moment of the accident, The Lord gave me a sense of peace.
As I opened my eyes in that dry riverbed, I soon came to realize that I could not feel or move my legs. Instead of freaking out about that…I started immediately talking about how grateful I was that I COULD feel and move my arms and hands.
One of the first things I started talking about upon entering the ICU was how excited I was to go to Disneyland and get fast-passes for every ride.
Through all of my therapies, I was strong and determined. I took the time I had at Craig as an opportunity to meet other people and be an encourager. Many times I was even an encourager to my friends and family.
When people would come to visit, I wanted to make them feel comfortable and like they didn’t have to worry about me. I wanted to be OK as to make sure that they were ok.
Overall…I was brave.
In some ways, I think the Lord gave me this bravery and peace as a way to survive. I had to push on and do the next thing so that I could get better…so that I could get back to normal life.
Well, I’m here now…back to normal life….but my new normal is not what I thought it would be.
Unless the Lord chooses to heal me, I will spend the rest of my life sitting down. I will never again feel the sand in my toes or the lapping of ocean waves on my legs. I won’t summit another fourteen thousand foot mountain. It will take me at least three times longer to get in and out of my car. I will plan my days around how many transfers will be required of me. I will need someone to push my cart at the grocery store. I will continue to ask people to pump my gas at the gas station. I will fear stairs and cracks in the sidewalks. I will live with sore shoulders and consistent pain in my hands. I will always rely on others to reach items on high shelves, or to reach under my desk to grab that apple that rolled away. I will be nervous to be alone for fear of falling from my chair. For the most part, everything will be just a little bit more difficult.
That is scary. And the question is…am I still brave?
You know what…I think bravery at this stage of my healing process looks different than it did in the beginning.
I am not brave…I am scared. But in a way, that is the bravest thing I can say. It can be terrifying to not be ok. It is so hard for me to acknowledge the fact that I cannot make everyone happy for forever. People will be sad when they hear my story and look at my life, even if I am bright and sparkling and perfectly happy. The Lord is big enough for me to struggle. He is knitting all of this into a story of beauty, whether I’m cheery or not.
So in this season, I’m brave enough to not be brave. It’s new for me, and very scary, but so authentic.
Psalm 62:5 “For God alone, o’ my soul wait in silence, for my hope is from Him.”