He Helped me Answer my Own Question

     I wrote about this day many months ago waiting for one of my children to be released from practice.  I stored it in a notebook I carried with me to write down my random thoughts.  Several months ago, I tore it out of my notebook and discarded it, knowing I would not share this experience for fear of what others would think.  Fear of others rejecting the brilliant hour that turned my torture into something else.  Something that changed my perspective and eased the hurt from that deep bruise that was imprinted into my heart since December 29th. 

     Three months I had been lying in a hospital bed in my living room with the same question running into and invading every thought I had.   It wasn't even a conscious question at this point, I couldn't control its interference in my life.  I visioned it as someone terribly annoying poking me in the shoulder every half second, not stopping when asked.  " Am I going to be okay?" it vibrated fiercely . 

      Each day for three months I spent my days with this question alternating with my body begging me to stop the pain.  "AM I going to be okay?" *PAIN!* "Am I GOING to be okay?" *PAIN!* "AM I GOING TO BE OKAY?!" ***PAAAAINN!***  No rest, no reprieve. It was maddening!

     A weekday afternoon as I lie in that bed, I grew weary of watching tv.  I cannot focus enough to read, it is painful to write, I tire of my own thoughts.  Closing my eyes, I drift to some meditative state.  Still hearing voices from the television, still knowing my surroundings, that blasted question even intrudes my thoughts here.  For Gods sake, just leave me alone for a bit. 

     Sensations.  Odd sensations come over me.  I am smiling.  With my eyes still closed, a big easy smile spreads across my face.  I don't understand it but I love it, I want more.  A feeling slowly washes over by body. I had been cloaked with a calmness and it swaddled me as a mother swaddles her infant.  

     Peace.  It was splendid peace, warming my body, mind and spirit.  With a trust so unbelievably complete, I knew the answer to my unending inquiry.  Yes.  Even if I do not walk well or ever again,  I will be just fine.  If that means living life in a wheelchair, I will be just fine.  Our girls and I had survived and that is all that I cared about.  Vivid, clear thoughts were mine.  Heaviness lifted its weight from my heart and it began beating again in earnest.

     My world inside of our home stopped as if Mother Nature had stopped time, except for myself.  I was in a whirl wind, everything around me was blurring as my mind whipped with comprehension, with awe, with disbelief.  He wasn't here with me, I did not hear him say the words, but he let me feel my answer.  He was allowed to let me know I was going to be okay.  He was allowed to let me feel peace.  It was him, the man who hit me. 

     I sat up in bed, overcome with emotion and exploded into tears, heart wrenching tears as I held my head in my hands.  I sobbed submissively, "I'm so sorry." "I'm so sorry you died."  " I'm sorry you died and I did not, I don't know why, I'm sorry."   I could not picture his face because I did not know what he looked like.  I did not know his life or personality, but I felt his heart this day.  It felt like this was a way that God let him help the person he caused so much pain for.  He was sorry.   

     He was finally at peace.  I don't know what that meant, but I knew it as well as I knew my own name. 

     It was the first time I had addressed him.  Acknowledged that he had changed my life.  Now he had changed it twice in a matter of three short months.  I know the reality. I know the explanations and excuses of everything else that this can be.  I was dreaming, it was effects of the pain medications I was ingesting, it was my own mind wanting something so badly that I imagined it.  

     But what does it really matter?  I had found what I had been searching for.  My spirit was at ease.  That question no longer haunted me.  I don't care what it was, I loved what it did for me.  I choose to believe because it grants me peace, courage and composure.  I choose to believe.

     I do not wish this pain or these struggles to be in my life.  I wish I could learn these lessons in a less tragic way, but this is my path now.  My journey.  God does not leave you on Earth without a reason.  I have asked him a few thousand times what am I supposed to do for him, what is my reason for being saved because when I look at my car, at the scene, it does not look as if anyone should have survived that.  

     I have heard his silent wishes and this past week, in a room full of three hundred plus people, I finally accepted.  I smirked as I said, "Well you ornery son of a gun." HE says, " Do the thing that you have been most afraid of your entire life." 

 Speak. Up. 

Saying Thank You to All of YOU!

Thankfulness     
Acknowledgement
Recognition
Appreciative
Gratitude
Honor
Indebtedness

     These are just a scattering of terms that I owe to all of you. 

     Four years is a long time to recover.   Four years is a long time for your continued support, but you have never given up on me, which in turn, causes me to not give up on myself.   We have been granted a gift of  86,400 seconds in a day, it only takes the use of one of those seconds to say, "Thank You" but I am going to use quite a few more than that today.

Silent gratitude is not much use to anyone, so

THANK YOU!!!

      It amazes me that the effects of this collision have spread so far.  Society may not know my name, but I hear, " Ohhhh, you're the one, " quite often.  I receive hugs from citizens that I do not know because they said a prayer for my family and I in church.  The same goes for cards, texts and private messages.  They start by explaining who they are and that they have a friend who knows us personally and felt compelled to write us.   Then............there is you.   Still receiving random, "how are you doing?" messages or cards.   I receive the best hugs when I venture into town.   Smiles are everywhere and if one of those smiles are a little droopy, then I hug you and you have no choice but to hug me back, because that would just be bad manners.  

     I rarely shake hands anymore unless the occasion truly calls for it, I encompass my acquaintance in my skinny, woman arms and hope they feel every bit of indebtedness that I have.   I have so much to give and give back.  

     I cannot recall if I have communicated this story to you or not, but this moment calls for it.     

     When I roused in my room after one of the surgeries, I'm not sure if it was my personality, God or something called Dilaudid, but I awoke in a great mood.  As long as I received my medicine routinely I was in moderate pain, light-hearted and didn't think much about my situation.  While I was holding my Mom's hand after a surgery I vividly recall a divine sense of prayer.  I spoke genuinely to her, " Mom, I can feel everyone praying for me, I can feel it.  That's why I feel so good."  I can only think of one way to explain this titillation.  When you watch how fans 'people surf' at a rock concert, there are many hands supporting that person as they travel along the crowd.  This is how I felt about everyone who was praying for us.  You were carrying me with prayer at a time when I could not carry myself.  It's an inspiration that I could never forget.

     When I speak of "you", I speak of everyone.  My family, friends, acquaintances and unique strangers that took time to help me, even in thought.  My family put their lives on hold until I could function on my own.  Our children practiced patience, nurturing and bred independence in their new roles, while my mind, body and spirit were reclaimed.  There were times when my own light diminished and was rekindled by a spark sent by one of you, whether you knew this or not.  I will never be afraid of saying a prayer or sending a message to someone because of awkwardness.  It was at the oddest junctures that a short note from someone revitalized my ambition to survive and live, like I wanted to live.  

     It is said that, "if you were not grateful for what you had before, that you could never be grateful for what you are to get."   I believe this to be true.  I do not wish this experience on anyone, it is painful in so many ways.  I am grateful to live thirty-five years as I did, but I am grateful to live any way I can now.  This is a promise to you, that I will pay it forward til the end of my life here on this earth.

If there was a way that I could touch you, to transfer my emotion of appreciation,  so you could feel what is in my heart, you could have endless peace just from that smallest gesture.   

 Gratitude has, undeniably, been my best attitude.

    

      

Getting Back in the Saddle:Don't Give Up

     "If you fall off your horse, get back in the saddle."

     How many of us have heard that quote or it has been expressed to us in a certain situation we are experiencing?

     I know I have.  Both literally and figuratively.  I've grown up riding horses and as a child I have been thrown from my saddle a couple of times.  My Father, ordering me to get back on my horse as I stare at him with a look of dismay, then angry pouting as I put one foot in the stirrup, grab the reins and head back to the barn, because I was done riding at that point. 

Writing this 3 1/2 years into my recovery from a tragic car crash, my heart wanted so badly to get back to my horseback riding. We didn't know if I ever would do to the damage of my legs and the pain they endured because of those injuries.  Walk with me as I relay what a wonderful day my first ride was. 

      Like anyone I would never want to admit my parent was right about anything as an adolescent, but now as an adult, it's clear as parents, we adopt situations as learning lessons.  We use these for our children's betterment and our aspiration is that at a juncture in their lives they will use it themselves.  They will smile as they repeat the words we said to them in their younger years and they will exclaim, " Oh my, I sound like my Mom/Dad!".

     This original quote feels true to myself as I have had to get back on that horse several times in the last three years.  My trauma surgeon informed me in no uncertain terms that I could  lay in a hospital bed, in my living room and never get out of the wheelchair that awaited me.  My other option was to conquer my anxiety, work long and hard and take the chance that my body might fail. 

      But what if I succeeded?

     Choosing to get back in that saddle was the only option for me.  I am fortunate that is my natural response, whether it comes from deep within me or from my upbringing, I don't care.  Succeeding requires this mental attitude.  

     Physically I haven't accomplished activities as I would have before my injuries.  I have learned great patience and creativity.  Looking at the situation and adapting has been my greatest achievement.  The lessons I have cultivated from my tragedy are appreciated.  I have an improved sense of myself because of them.

     It is now not enough to know how to ride, I must know how to fall.  There is an art of keeping a horse between you and the ground.  There is a discipline to recovering.  I must always be thinking ahead,  preparation is key and sometimes I just have to take a risk by sitting in that saddle and say, "Well, let's see what happens."  

     Taking this lesson literally today, I had my husband saddle my horse for me. (it was his horse until I stole it from him)   Three and a half years have passed since I've truly ridden a horse comfortably.  I have a special horse named Jack.

     He stands at 14.2 hands and is a perfect gentleman to me.  Having my pelvis and both ankles fused with loads of metal covering my bones does not make it easy to stretch your leg up to a 15 or 16 hand horse.  Today I was able to mount him unassisted, my first accomplishment, then I was able to insert my right toe into my stirrup for the first time since my fourth ankle surgery, a year and a half ago. 

     I decided to attack this challenge the same way as I had to relearn my physical activities.  One step at a time.  I prepared. 
 I had a special horse.  Special stirrups.

 

Special braces.

(I realize lace up boots are not cool anymore and this is not the epitome of sexiness, but they are necessary.  Don't judge my boots.)

     Jack and I walked for fifteen minutes, so far everything is

 A- Okay.

     Jack is as excited as I am and we are both chomping at the bit to try a trot.  He's a smooth dancing guy, I have to say.  There was just a slight  'tork' on the outside of my right ankle as we progressed. Still going splendidly.  I then realized, 

We are in a Wide. Open. Field.

Oh Yes, I did!

     A slow canter, a faster gallop, then a flat out run!  Jack's mane was whipping in the wind as my spirit soared to new heights.  Waiting and wondering for three and a half years if I would ever be able to experience that feeling again has finally ended.  My smile covered the entire county as I laughed and a tear of happy relief raced from the corner of my right eye.  I don't even know who I whispered, 'Thank You' to, but I am truly thankful.  

      I had a little swag in my hip movement as I rode back to the barn to relay the details of my adventure to my husband.  I should give that credit to Jack though as he was the one who was actually prancing up the drive way creating my swag.

     My heart leaps, knowing that greener pastures are on my horizon and I cannot wait to see what new freedoms I will unlock just by giving it a try.

     By getting back in the saddle, I may encounter failures, 

but what if I Succeed?