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Coming Through. A Reflection for Holy Week

Coming Through. A Reflection for Holy Week.

I've spent many days thinking and saying to myself...

“When this is over I'm going to have to tell what God has taught me.  I’ll surely be able to give some insight into the wonders of God's great wisdom in letting me get injured and go on a long journey toward healing (in the midst of being a wife and mother, an aspiring singer/songwriter, worship leader, business owner, music teacher...).”

In January of 2013, I hit my head and got my fourth major concussion in my life. It took me 8 months to resume any kind of normal life including caring for my daughter. In November 2013, my head was re-injured by acoustic trauma at a loud event and the recovery started all over again. I still have a ways to go. Unlike wearing a cast or walking with a cane to get better, concussion recovery is invisible. It’s true. A brain injury is no joke! Please avoid a concussion if you can.

All I can say is that after two years in recovery, the major insight I was hoping for hasn't shown up.

So. Instead of waiting for a watershed moment of understanding, I'm choosing to enjoy walking through this season instead of trying to get out of it. 

I'm stopping myself from saying ...when this is over I'll...

I'm deciding to live fully in the present: In the daily fatigue my injury still brings.  In light of my injured and fragile auditory cortex that makes it now virtually impossible for me to play music with a band as I once did, hang out with friends in crowds of people and enjoy the small pleasure of going to a movie or concert. In the sadness of not being able to raise my daughters the way I had planned because of these physical and auditory limitations.  In the wake of two years of misdiagnoses and several doctors saying "I'm sorry, you're on the edge of science. There's nothing we can do for you."

I did my own research.  I found the best avenue available and have gone outside the conventional medical world to a neuroscientist who works as a clinician.  In his presence I feel as if I'm either sitting before a prophet or Yoda. He is the only one able to accurately diagnose what is happening in my head and start me on a new path to healing.

However. My hope is not in this treatment. It may or may not be my ticket OUT of this daily battle.

For me now, it's not about getting over this. It's about walking THROUGH it. 

Yes, I want to fully recover.  Yes, I would love to do all the things I feel my heart and soul were made to do!  Yet, my purpose and calling is no more or less valuable now than it was prior to my injury. And. There is peace to be found in not being able to "do it all."

I used to cringe at the word disabled. I never thought this word would ever apply to me. But, my perspective was totally and sadly way off. At one of my doctor's offices, there is an entire wall of pictures of people who were physically disabled by label but were ABLE to accomplish incredible things (Beethoven, Harriet Tubman, Albert Einstein).  But, even so, isn't real life about much more than being able to accomplish great things?

I took a step back.

This is nothing new. I have always been disabled --in the most basic sense of the word. I am not alone. It applies to every single one of us. We cannot accomplish on our own what we need most.  Not one of us is capable of saving ourselves from ourselves.  We all need a word. We all need a voice other than our own to help us through.  Not just to help us get over our circumstances, ailments, disappointments, but... to CARRY us through.

I don't have any earth shattering news to share except to say that I know who carries me.  I know whose voice I'm listening for. When I don't have any strength, I now know who gives it.  Every. Single. Time.

I'm willing to give up all the successes I'd hoped for just to know a little more intimately the one who made me. The one I tell my girls to trust because He is good. The one I will be with for eternity.  He did not have a smooth, easy life.  He did ask "Father, let this cup pass from me."  But, instead of taking it away, the Father carried his son through a tragic death on the cross.  The Father carried his Son so his Son could carry us.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior... (Isaiah 43:2-3 ESV).

The truth is... We who know and trust this great carrying Love are given eyes to see beyond our circumstances to the shores that lie ahead...if we ask. Seek. Knock. –Honestly, sometimes I beg. Well…most times.—

We are not bound by the ricochet of this world's pleasures.  Our trajectory is forward.  Always. A set back in my healing means more of Christ. A step forward in my healing means there is more of my heart to give to others.  And in that, more of Christ. 

His grace is constant. Even in my missteps... Especially my accusing him of letting disasters happen that "wreck" our lives.

No.  Disasters don't wreck our lives.  They fill our lives with fertile ground for the deepest, truest life we could ever know. 

If it takes every day of my life to find life abundant, I'm in for the journey. I'll keep seeking: I'll keep knocking.  I want it more than my healing.  I want to know the deep realities of God's greatness and intimate love more than I want my health. 

It has taken me these two years to get here. And I'm still walking through it. I want to be here. This is best. This is where my heart will meet my Savior. This is where he is meeting me.

Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord; his going out is sure as the dawn; he will come to us as the showers, as the spring rains that water the earth. (Hosea 6:3).

I thank God every single day that I am here -- That I am alive.  That I can be a part of life with my husband and daughters, family and friends.  That I can function well enough to do almost everything I need to do to take care of my family. Yes. Life is a gift-- a very precious gift.

As we reflect on the life, death and resurrection of Christ, may we be ever more thankful that we can know him, be loved by him and experience true grace as he carries us through.