July 21, 2009

In The Still Of The Night

So, I've been absent from the blogosphere for a few weeks. My previous post was even more telling, perhaps foreshadowing even, now re-reading it weeks later. I posted Curveball at about 1 am that Monday morning July 6th. At 3am my cell phone rang, and a frantic woman was on the other end of the line screaming that my husband had just been in a terrible car accident and was laying half dead on the interstate. I have never felt as much panic, fear, and sheer helplessness in my life. I heard the ambulance arrive and the paramedics talking to him, only clinging to the words of the kind bystander, "hon, this is bad". I phoned everyone within a 20 mile radius to come to my house immediately and planned on hitching a ride to the hospital with the first to arrive. My life flashed before me. My daughter had waken, and at 4 years old, could see I was visibly shaken. Tears ran down her cheeks and she kept asking why Daddy was hurt. After my phone calls I quietly sat her down and explained that Daddy had been in an accident but was on his way to the hospital and I was going to go be with him. I tried to pretend like everything was going to be okay, and we said a prayer for her Daddy. As I sat there impatiently staring out the window waiting for the headlights of the first arrival, Audrey disappeared. I soon found her in my bedroom and asked what she was doing. She said, "making your bed for you Mommy". Such a sweet angel girl. A smile found it's way to my face through the fear. This was all going to be okay.

My sister arrived to stay with the kids (who has been my rock through all of this). My brother in-law arrived shortly after and we left for the hospital. When we arrived, Paul was being wheeled into surgery, and I was allowed to see him for just a moment; but that moment was all I needed. A physical touch, a confirmation that he was indeed alive. He had sustained some major head injuries, repaired during surgery. He had also fractured his ribs, pelvis, ankle, and spine. He was in an induced coma for two days and on a ventilator.

I never went to see the remains of the car. From what I hear, not much is left. He had apparently fallen asleep at the wheel, rolled the car several times before being ejected onto the interstate.

God has given me such courage through this time. Paul is now out of the hospital, has a funny haircut(by Audrey standards), some real bad scars, a cast, some knocked out teeth, and alot of pain. He, by God's grace sustained no brain swelling or damage. He's walking without the use of a walker now, climbing stairs, and getting himself dressed. Praise God! We thought we were going in the right direction, but God put Paul flat on his back to make sure it stayed that way. I will never be able to thank God enough for sparing my husbands life. For protecting his body, albeit broken, in time it will heal. This experience has had such a great impact on our lives already, it is bound to provoke tremendous change and momentous beginnings. The outpouring of support has been phenomenal. In fact, my next post is already in the works thanking my friends, family, associates for their kindness and generosity.

Despite the mounting circumstance that seems to be coming in form of waves these days, I will continue to be thankful. I will continue to thank God for my life, my strength, and for new possibilities. Through him ALL things are possible.

July 06, 2009

Curveballs

I know that life is full of hills and valleys, but it seems as if I've been laying low in the valley for some time. I've been wondering, praying, when the upswing would come. I feel like now my family and I are yet again at another crossroad. So many of those in life. I often sit and make my pros and cons list, weigh my options, hope to navigate the best possible outcome. But now at 33 years old, I have stopped, and am looking at my life and just thinking, this is not my life. I am mourning the life I was supposed to have at 33. I think only just now have I realized that I'm living my dream life, instead of really embracing the life that is.

I have shifted my perception. Why when life doesn't go perfectly, is it bad? Gabe's Autism diagnosis was shocking and momentarily devastating, but not bad. In fact I feel truly blessed that God chose me to be his Mom. I know he wouldn't have done so, if he wasn't going to give me the strength to handle it. I know with certainty that I am here on this earth to affect the diagnosis and treatment of Autism in a major way, if only to be a part of my son's. Haven't quite figured out how yet, but I'm in no rush. Gabe is first priority. Our connections and communication is growing exponentially and that fills me up. In fact, makes me smile; I am smiling now.

My husband and family are at a point in our lives where we could crumble. We could simply throw in the towel. And to some it may look as such. My husband's 10 year run as a small business owner has now come to an end. We can no longer survive in our dwindling economy and can no longer trust the network of associates who are now looking out for number one. We will be saying goodbye to the home where we were engaged, became a couple, and welcomed our two beautiful children to with promises of swing sets and BBQs.

Failure, it would seem. But as I type I am thinking that this has to be God's will. He is steering us to a place where we could not follow on our own, and he is now leading us. I am trying desperately to be obedient to his will here. I am trying desperately not to feel sorry for myself. I am trying desperately to hold it together. And so far, I am. I am not going to fight what I have no control over. That is a frivolous waste of energy.

And so I am thankful: my children and family is healthy, I have supportive friends and family, I am loved, my pantry is full, my air-conditioner is working, I have found peace in my circumstance.

I know this will all pass, a new chapter will unfold, with greater blessings than I could ever dream. I now release my dream, my visions of what should or is suppose to be. I will just be and that is going to take courage. The courage to be me. The courage to hold my head up high and take the failure and mourn it and move beyond it. The courage to be ourselves is so very hard. Be vulnerable. In this state I have found the most love, most encouragement, most grace. I hope when we are back on our feet, I will still have the courage to be me. Courage to share my circumstance without fear of judgement or criticism. I hope I will be able to be a source of encouragement for others, for my children, to show that life is not always by design. We are not in control no matter how strategically we plan or prepared we may be. Curve balls happen, and happen often. But I think I'm finally batting them away.