I have been waiting till I can put my emotions into words and about 10 minutes ago I knew I was ready to write.
About a month after Jason and I got married, quite a few things happened. One of them being my car dying. He has ever-so kindly taken me to work and picked me up almost everyday. Although I have greatly appreciated it, it has also been so hard. It has brought me to the days of depending on everyone around me right after my accident. It has made me feel that hopelessness and burden I felt like I was.
I have grieved about those feelings, because I realized I never had. I would sit for hours and just think about the pain that I had never felt. I have prayed like never before. Hours of prayer and conversation.
Jason has a F-150. I have been so scared to attempt driving it. There are a few quirks and I have been scared. He offered to go practice and I would put it off.
I honestly think now that God was preparing my heart.
A few weeks ago I made up my mind it was time.
I got in the car and drove. I got on the road, I was fine.
Then, I made a turn and for the first time EVER I remembered.
I began to sob uncontrollably and I pulled over and sat barely able to breathe.
I have never been able to remember the feelings or even have flashbacks of what happened after I swerved my car from hitting on coming traffic, until now.
I saw the guardrail, that changed everything.
I felt my car turning without anyway to control it.
I felt the whiplash.
I felt the pain and the certainty I was going to die.
I felt utter hopelessness.
Jason stood there in the pouring rain holding me so tight for a solid 15 minutes until I could control myself.
I feel like I have literally gone through it all over again.
Just over 3 years after my life changing I am just now seeing what happened.
It is so hard to wrap my head around.
The past few weeks have been a whirlwind.
The pain in my body has been unbearable at times.
Last Sunday I sat in Church while my arm twitched, burned, moved uncontrollably, and I sat there trying to hold back the tears but they started anyway. I had to get up and just pace in the hallway to distract my mind hoping at least some of the pain would go away. A hour later it finally started to die down. The emotional struggle when that is going on is so big and so painful. It literally drains me.
Monday morning I woke up. I knew I was in DESPERATE need of strength. Not physical but spiritual strength.
I remembered a verse a friend had sent me weeks prior and just knew it was EXACTLY for this moment.
Psalm 143:7-8
Answer me quickly, O Lord, my spirit fails;
Do not hide Your face from me,
Or I will become like those who go down to the pit.
Let me hear Your loving kindness in the morning;
For I trust in You;
Teach me the way in which I should walk;
For to You I life up my soul.
I (again) realized this is a process.
A journey.
I am never going to wake up and have two arms again.
Life is always going to be hard and there are always things I will have to grieve over.
But God.
He knows. He knows pain, grief, and gives strength before we even know we need it. (Which is ALL the time.)
I am so grateful for the gift of His word.
I am not going to say that it makes it easier, because that's a lie.
What I will say is that because of His truth I know there is purpose. In the pain or the best days of our lives.
This past week has been richer, and even more precious.
Everyday when we ride over that bridge and I see the place that has caused SO much pain, I see a purpose.
A forever changed me.
A lost arm, but a gained perspective into the goodness and love of The Father.
God is good.