After the Storm

As I stood under our porch roof this evening and watched the rain fall, listening to the thunder overhead, and getting an occasional glimpse of a flash of lightening, I noticed the flowers seemed to brighten as I watched. They were getting a much needed drink of water after a long slow roasting day. The heat index was above 100 today, and we've been promised more of the same tomorrow and Wednesday! But as I watched the clouds roll in, and the sun's rays shine through the rain from the west, I thought about life. And I remembered standing in a hospital room singing through my tears, "I will praise You in this storm," because in that moment it was all I could do. The clouds had rolled in, and where I had been able to see the future and see myself growing old beside this man, all of a sudden I couldn't see more than a few minutes into the future, and I was terrified to look because the words "traumatic brain injury" were just too much to bear. The thunder was booming and I was so very afraid. Fast forward a year, and we were still in the midst of the storm. It seemed that while people kept telling us things were getting better, we knew different. Life was still moving on but it was a different life than we had planned. Bitter words were spoken, prayers were often left unsaid, and a man and wife who felt like strangers were growing apart and indifferent. "Once again, I say Amen, and it's still raining..." God worked, and brought us closer to Himself and to each other in spite of ourselves, but the pain continued, physical, spiritual, and emotional. We began to adjust to the diagnosis and the prognosis, but every time we thought we could handle things, another curve ball was thrown and we'd find ourselves trying to adjust again. We couldn't plan for the future. Just living day to day was sometimes too hard. I was starting to lose faith and beginning to think that we would never get to the point that we could move on. We tried new medicines, new vitamins, new foods, and new doctors. I can't put a finger on when it began to change. It's been over four years since that horrible day, and recently I looked around and realized that while I was busy accepting my new life and its struggles, the sun had begun peeking through the clouds. I was singing again, "It is well, it is well with my soul." Our storm has begun to subside for the moment. We have not come out of it completely, and I don't know that we ever will. Traumatic brain injuries have a tricky way of making you think they're healed, then they raise their ugly heads again. The difference now is that I know we have made it through the hardest part. We have passed through the fire and we were not burned. More struggles may come. More difficult times may be ahead, but for now, I'm resting in the sunshine of His love. I still don't try to look very far into the future, because I know that I can't worry about the future when I have a beautiful rainbow to enjoy after the storm...