I ‘m a walking miracle. Been that way since birth. Death has tried to claim me more than times than I can count. Seriously….I’ve lost count. I’m not bragging on this. There’s nothing to brag about because its reminding me once again I’m not in control. Never have been. For whatever reason- I’m reminded more closely how fragile life is. Which is why I hated Covid. It ripped people away from family- if you let it. Fear far more dangerous than Covid conspires hand in hand with common silent enemy fatigue. It divides the unity of people over race, over masks, and over feelings. Fatigue is my own personal “demon” if you will. It’s silent, it feeds the ego, and when at the prime rips the carpets off on what you thought was a firm foundation. The consequences could have been more than my life…it could have had lives of others.
Fatigue is so good that unless you stop or you have others brave to help put the brakes on you never ever see it coming. Never. It is dangerous. It potentially kills. It is very invisible to a society who wears fatigue like its a badge of honor succumbing to its very trap.
I never saw it coming. My day was normal. I worked, I was exhausted, and was running an errand before heading home after a surprise early shift ending. I’ll rest when I get home I thought as I turned my car towards the fateful death of my beautiful miracle car. No use in wasting time or gas- I thought traveling the mere 18 minutes towards my destination. I never got there.
Looking down to check to make sure I wasn’t speeding, I never saw the cars on the hwy. All I knew was my airbags deployed. A question shrilled in my head what happened? Did someone hit me? My hearing aid flew so did my sunglasses. This is a nightmare. My family. Over and over the words my family resounded. I cared more of them than of myself in that moment. They’d been through so much…
Dazed I heard voices. The crackle. The alarm blaring and my car ringing the police. I heard it as clear as day. A knock sounded on my door. “Are you Okay?” The question only muffled by the glass of my window. Gasping sharp breathes I could only nod my head, I think I said yes though I wasn’t not really, hoping that he would in fact see I wasn’t. He saw what he wanted to see and moved on. Shaken, I realized I could hear and in that second it went nearly silent again. A miracle flashed through my mind as I recognized that I heard him and dread set in when it was quiet again.
I felt my ear panicking what would happen if I couldn’t find my aid? Would the police treat me with contempt? Would the person in front of me blame me for my deafness. All of my life I had been mocked one way or another for my deafness, if not my deafness than my speech. People didn’t believe nor understood…the way I “heard” things. The way vibrations sounded, from loud music or noises, in my chest or in my head alerted and told me what others could never “hear”, I didn’t attend concerts or movie theaters because I’d often end up with migraines that left me in tears. “Breath” I told myself. “God’s got you. “
As swiftly as the panic came- I had been train to react calmly- it left. Peace came as I shifted out of my world and tried to bring some semblance of the chaotic world. My door was heavy almost impossible to push open- within seconds I located my aid. Pushing fear aside I went to check on people. Of all days I could have crawled into a hole and stayed there that was that moment. They were fine. Angry, understandable and rightly so. But reality was no one was badly hurt, and everyone recognized it was better the vehicles be damaged than lives lost. In this regard, I was humbled. According to most social media and news- it is portrayed most people these days would not have extended such mercy. They wouldn’t have cared that no one was hurt only that their vehicles damaged. Thank God- media was proven wrong, there are kind people left in this world. People still cared.
There’s still the quietly shouting quiet thoughts. The quietly shouting thoughts that no one but yourself can hear rings in head days after the accident. Replays happen in the most unexpected times and the stench of deployed airbags come unexpectedly. It’s three weeks later and I’ve been put on rest for a month. It’s hard, because I still don’t even have close to my strength I had before.
In a society and I confess mostly myself where expectation rests mightily on your shoulders to *be somebody* or *be mature* or *do something worthwhile* or in my case *No courage of taking anything off my plate *. Trust me I got the lectures. But no one wanted their stuff I was involved with taken off my plate…so it remained. The irony is I’ve been coming to grip my life *needed*to change. Then the accident occurred and I’m face with the same line of questions as before. What needs to change? The answers I’m coming to the conclusion is not ones I relish. They are not easy decisions. But in order to stay true to what God has called me to do, the steps are needed. I’m sure there will be tears and perhaps disagreements. But in time…it will be good for all of us as we figure out the next phase together. If I was asking these questions before and the answer remained the same before the accident…then I *know* I’m on the right path. The question now is when to put it in action.
What remains the same though? My family, I’m stuck most happily with them. My second is relationship with my church family, if anything I’m making it a point to gather with them more. If anything my church is far more *stuck* with me( I say that playfully) more than ever. I’ve felt their love and their prayers. My life belongs to God if He told me to go else where I would because I love Him. But it would not be without tears and an absolute conviction that this was what He wanted. As such as it is, I’ve not been told and so I plant my feet *firmly* where He has planted me.
What is important?
A question I’ve been asking myself for months ironically was answered in my accident. Nothing like a jolt of being awaken to answer such questions. The thing that surprised me most was that my answers remained mostly….unchanged. At first I felt guilty about it. I had this huge crash it should be a life altering thing. It is. It has changed me in ways I might not know for a long time. In many things I’ve become resolute…or as many would say stubborn. But here’s the one thing I am unwavered in….the goodness of God and His love for me. His faithfulness carried me and His kindness is my strength. My family tells me I’ve been in shock for days…perhaps I was but all I remember is hearing His voice. I had taken a step back in some ways, pondering. He talked with me for hours and hours. In the times I was quiet, His voice was my companion. I’d wrestle with guilt, but He fought my battles. In my heart though certainly not my body I felt more alive in the days following the accident. My body is still weary and so is my mind. But my heart is pumping and I can’t help but feel excitement when I sense the smallest of His presence near me. Still might be dangling on threads in many ways, but there’s one thread that is strong as a rod or a staff and that’s my relationship with Him. It’s stronger than before. That my friends…is a gift.