I love to blog. I love to write. But it takes me so many weeks to finish a blog post because I can't look at a computer for long and typing is still a little hard for me sometimes because of how many problems I'm having with my fine motor skills. So, instead of typing, I can just use voice-to-text. How cool is that? So just picture me sitting on my futon, talking at my iPad. Obviously I don't love it as much as typing, but my OT says I need to "work on adjusting to this new life right now". Blah blah blah. :)
ANYWAY.
My faith has been pretty off since my accident. Believe it or not, getting slammed into by a truck and having your world turned upside down does not leave you feeling all blessed and faith-filled. It just doesn't.
First it leaves you shocked. I didn't feel any emotion other than pain for probably the first 2 weeks. Then it leaves you severely pissed off, because not being able to do anything for yourself gets very old very quickly. Then you start seeing doctors and important people who basically have your life and future in their hands, and you realize just how much shit you're actually in, and it leaves you completely and utterly devastated. There is no moment where you think "I feel like a big bowl of sunshine and gosh I'm so blessed" when they are throwing words like "life threatening" and "paralysis" and "long, intense rehab" at you.
You can pray every second of the day and beg and try to bargain with God, but you still fall. You can't stop it. It's kinda like riding Splash Mountain at Disney World for the first time. You are all "Pleeeasseee noooo, not the big drop, stop stop." But in the end, you're still going down the big drop and getting soaking wet.
I prayed and begged, but I still hit rock bottom, like most TBI patients do. They warned me. I dreaded waking up in the morning because I felt like I was waking up from a nightmare only to enter another nightmare.
So I waited. I listened to the KLove radio station nonstop. I tried to focus on the fact that the doctors are amazed that I didn't die. I listened to other people tell me they were praying for me and hoped that would be enough. Finally, I threw my hands up. Figuratively speaking, that is, because I'm not able to lift my arms up yet. But you get the point.
And then two weeks ago, it just happened.
I could feel Him. I mean really feel like He was right there with me the whole week. In the good moments when my new neuro/spine specialist said I shouldn't have to worry about paralysis anymore unless I plan to go get thrown around in a mosh pit (more on that later) (the doctor appointment, that is, not the mosh pit), and even in the horrible moments when I was sobbing (I'm talking ugly crying, people) at rehab because everything hurts and my body doesn't know how to do anything and YOU WANT ME TO DO WHAT?
I was in TBI counseling and started laughing when we were talking about how much this sucks. My speech therapist was teaching me how to deal with developing dyslexia at age 21 and tips to remember things like my own middle name and I was cracking up. I couldn't move the arm bike at PT without help and I was laughing even though I was crying because there was a 70 year old beside me who has more body movement than I do. I was crying (I do a lot of crying at rehab if you haven't picked up on that) when my OT was trying to get me to balance on a therapy ball and I kept falling off, but for some reason I was still laughing.
WHY?
I had no clue at first. My TBI causes my emotions to go all over the place and laughing has always been my natural defense mechanism, so I figured it was that. But then later that day, my friend Brianna who is also going through rehab after a bad car wreck, text me this.
He is working on me. He's working on Bri, too. That's why I am able to laugh sometimes when I should absolutely not be laughing. That's why I can fall off a freakin' therapy ball at OT for the 100th time and still feel taken care of. Because He is taking care of me.
And there's just something really great about finally being able to feel like God has me wrapped up in His gracious, loving arms.
It's like being wrapped up in a big Jesus blanket burrito.
But, of course, it doesn't always stay like this. Every now and then I don't feel like this at all. I feel like I have been thrown out of my warm Jesus blanket burrito. And that makes me feel the same way I feel when I am forced out of my comfy bed blanket burrito every morning by my alarm clock-- CRANKY.
But then my brother calls. And my kids give me sweet, gentle hugs and say in their precious little voices, "I wove you Ms. Awexa." And my OT gives me a piece of really yummy pound cake after a really hard session. (Have I mentioned how much I LOVE Linda?!) And I vent to my friend Brianna and she is like, "YES. I COMPLETELY UNDERSTAND."
And then I'm right back in the warm Jesus blanket burrito, and I can feel Him. I can feel Him taking care of me. I can feel Him working through all of my therapists. I can feel Him when I am trying to read and figure out the difference between a "b" and a "d" or when I am trying so hard to do something as simple as squeeze my shoulder blades together. I can feel Him covering me with peace, love, and strength.
(Side note: Please do not be offended. I know that all of my doctors, specialists, and therapists are taking care of me and helping me heal! I just have no doubt that God is also working through them. I truly could not do any of this without such incredible doctors, specialists, and therapists!)
A medical update coming soon. Just wanted to share my warm Jesus blanket burrito first because it's nice to escape the scans and tests and medical talk for a while. Please continue to pray for me and my family as I continue on this crazy rehab journey!
At my most recent appointment with my new neuro/spine specialist, he said, "It may not seem like it right now, but God gave you a second chance. Don't waste it."
He is taking care of me.
"He will cover you with His feathers and under His wings you will find refuge." Psalm 9:14
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