1 month anniversary – 2/15/07

today marks the month anniversary since the  accident.  we often respect anniversaries of critical moments in our lives; births, marriages, deaths.  in my life, i have seen consistent progress these past four weeks which points toward hope.  this hope is crystallized today by all the physical gains i have made thus far:  my face is no longer black and blue and swollen to its limit, my back and neck are making great progress toward health, my left eyebrow can move a bit better than the week before, etc.  still battling the constant migraines, yet when i look in the mirror i see hope.  sure, any muscle tone i did have is now marked with flab – but in each day since the accident i am more sure of god’s presence and more thankful to be alive…

it’s strange, but in those last moments as i propelled toward the cement median, i made peace with death.  i do not consider myself  gothic and i was later surprised at how quickly i adjusted to what i thought was my fate.  those who know me well know that i do not easily adjust to the “next” in my life; transitions are not my forte.  but in those moments, friends and family flashed through my mind and i quickly accepted what i believed the next stop on the train of life to be. 

after my car hit the median, the next moments are fady.  they seem to flint around my consciousness, coming to the forefront of my mind as i tell my story.  sometimes different pieces of the story come forward, sometimes they hide in fear.  obviously, the moments on a stretcher in the ambulance and in the trauma center of the hospital were some of the most terrorizing moments of my life.  i keep telling the story because i am told that fear does not live in the light, it lives in darkness.  so step into the light – every nightmare and flashback – into the healing light of god.

my cousin died in a car accident two years ago.  when i was propelling toward the median, i seemed to think toward matthew and what his feelings might have been the last moment of his life.  i now believed if i could speak with heaven, we would be able to “commiserate” and swap stories.  the effect of matthew’s death was one of the last thoughts on my mind – thinking that i would most certainly die, i wondered how my family could handle yet another tragedy.  more importantly, how would matt’s fiancee (my now roommate) deal with another loss.  and why was i put on earth for such a short life?  why was he? 

i don’t have any answers.  why am i alive when he is dead?  are the dreams deep inside my heart really future-realities that might come into fruition?  is it safe to dream? 

the only conviction i have since the accident is that my life must be dedicated to serving the world.  my deepest dreams, that of a public speaking or media career, being a wife and mother, encouraging other women are still safe and alive.  but they do not depend on me.  god is always moving in the world, if these dreams, these goals are truly worthy, they do not depend on me to be born.  if they will benefit the world, god is not relying on my life to make them happen.  graduating from college a year an a half ago, somehow my idealism led me to believe i was born to do something no one else could do.  now i am not so sure.  but i have seen the goodness that comes from a community that cares – my church, family and friends have upheld me in prayers, cards and visits in a way i never imagined.

i’m sure it seems foreign to many why a simple car accident would cause such deep questions in my life.  i don’t blame you.  before january 15th, i heard of car accidents on the news every single day and they never spurred any great change.  but now, i can’t even really stand to have the news on in the room for fear of seeing a car accident on the television.  we don’t understand the pain of others until our own tragedies hit us smack in the face.  but i do believe, that no matter our personal stories – pain is pain.  we are united by this common story.  spoken pain or deep-seeded trauma.

an ebenezer is a memorial stone used by people for centuries to mark places of memorial, places of progress and places of importance.  during the past month, i guarantee that a handful of people have heard me gripe.  on days with migraines that aren’t being quelched by the medication, i have felt lost or hopeless.  this new life of living with the lights darkened, in quiet places is quite new to this extrovert.  some days i wondered if things would ever be the same again.  i depended on a handful of friends and family to chart my healing – to be my “ebenezers” – reminding me of how far i have come.  if i might encourage you, in one way, it is to make sure at least a handful of people know where you hurt.  these people can be your ebenezers, reminding you of where you have been and how far you have come.

take heart, dear friend.  you and i are on a journey.  let us mark today, with memory, as a reminder that we are god’s work and we are not finished.  we have come a long way.  we are not yet home.