Twenty-seven years. Every September, I reflect about so much. It starts with the kids returning to school and the uninterrupted time I'm left with. I miss them. As a routine sets in and I find myself in familiar territory once again, the anniversary of my accident that paralyzed me, begins to cloud my mind. It's now been twenty-seven years but at my twenty-fifth, I wrote this:
September
28, 2011
Wow. 25 years ago today. The car accident that paralyzed me, the
months of rehab in a Rochester hospital away from family and all that was
familiar. Can’t believe it’s been 25
years …. In so many ways. Over the
years, my body has taken a toll – I’m 42, after all. My shoulder hurts, my wrists… all of the wear
and tear of wheeling day after day, of getting my chair in and out of the car,
of taking care of children and family.
I had a major surgery to correct my back last year. One I’m still recovering from. A whole year of adjustment and change. My mobility is limited now… not able to go up
slightly steep hills or pick up smashed things off the floor. These are losses. Griefs I’m working through. I’m tired,
too. Tired of my different life. Tired of ALWAYS waiting. Patience has never been my virtue. Tired of struggling to create some normalcy
within my life of obstacles. Just tired.
I
also cry. I cry for what was lost….
Still. I cry. I watch around me and the busy of friends and
family and completely notice my slow pace and my deliberate, thought out steps
that are designed to save me time. And
they do. But not enough. I’m still slow. I cry for moments missed with my kids b/c I
simply couldn’t do them. Physically
impossible. I want those moments
too. I cry. I cry when dealing… alone… with disability
issues no one close to me can truly understand.
They try. They WANT to
understand. Experience fails them. I’m alone… except for my God. Who is great company by the way – in misery
and in joy. I cry as I think about my
future. The uncertainty of it and the
dependence of it. I want to rage and
scream for independence but it doesn’t matter.
Dependence is here and more dependence will come. I can’t stop it. I’m resolute to live today b/c tomorrow
scares me…. what can I squeeze in today that tomorrow probably can’t offer
me? I cry about the unfairness. I just don’t get it… other than God must have
an agenda and He NEEDS this to be a part of it... It’s the only way I can reconcile the
injustice of watching evil walking in jails and prisons. Why little insignificant me? Why not the child molester or serial killer
that has destroyed families with their act?
Doesn’t seem fair. And I cry
about the offerings I can’t give simply b/c I can’t DO. I SEE needs not like others. Maybe b/c I am in the position of need. But I see them and cannot fill them. Frustration brings tears.
It’s
a hard life. It’s filled with agony and
want and hard focus. Oh, the honesty of
my reality is heartbreaking. God must
have a reason. I believe this. This is my hope. And, being in my 40’s, I’m very much aware of
my mortality and how abbreviated this life is compared to the next. I anticipate the next. Where all is right. Where fairness is determined and reigned by a
holy God. I want THAT. I want to feel whole and secure and fair. I wait for my time in eternity.
Right
here right now, I also have a need to acknowledge my many blessings. My
education, my Lord, my husband, our children, our home and church…. So many
blessings. Overall, my health is
good. Who would have thought, 25 years
later, my health would be good? We laugh
harder than most families, having the ability to recognize the joy that spills
from deep. Peter is almost always the
instigator. I’m glad. He is so funny and in our simple beautiful
life, we have so much to laugh about. We
are so content with a good movie or book.
With a puzzle in the winter. With
hot cocoa and card games. With a splash
in the pool or a bbq with great friends.
Our simplicity and appreciation files down to contentedness. In this, our life is rich.
I’m
dazed by where the Lord has brought me.
Who would have thought I’d be sitting in the middle of this beautiful
family, watching it grow up to become its own structure of influence. Sometimes, it’s hard to focus on the
difficult as my unique circumstances have brought about so much life.
So much to be thankful for. This
space of time we occupy, create, and fill is but a spasm compared to eternity
. So I choose to invest my little
insignificant self into what’s eternal.
Encouraging words. Grace. Empathy.
Hospitality. Truth. How we treat
each other matters. We ARE influential. With action or words. What we say can create or destroy.
Powerful. What will I choose? Will I wallow or build up? I know God won’t waste my words. And we all have words, despite our
limitations. If this is the only thing
my day produces, I use it… as it is a gift to be able to. And I am blessed.
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