Finding Hope

My last post made me cry and I don't like crying, so I wanted to write about laughter this time around. But the truth is, laughter is a rare commodity in my life right now. I decided about six months after the accident that it would not define who we are as a family. The brain injury that had changed everything for all of us, would not change us... Well, that is laughable. You don't go through an experience like that and not have it change you. It changed me in ways that were good and bad. An example of a good change, I am now much more sympathetic to people with chronic pain and depression. An example of a bad change, is that I cannot get on a Ferris wheel or a roller coaster anymore. The last time I was on a Ferris wheel, I recited the 23rd Psalm and the Lord's Prayer continuously to keep the panic at bay. I blamed it on getting older, but the truth is, all I saw was our broken bodies on the ground as the ride for some unknown reason fell apart. It isn't logical. I'm not the one that had the injury, but that's one way I have changed. I didn't want to, but I changed. I get angry at the changes and decide I'm not going to let them define me, but I'm still not getting on that Ferris wheel again!

I love to laugh. I miss laughing so hard that I have tears rolling down my cheeks and sounding like I need a breathing treatment. I miss the jokes my husband used to play on me. Recently, though he's started again, and I love it. My last post was a bit depressing as I went back and read it, but it needed said. This time, I want to point out that healing is still happening. It's excruciatingly slow. We measure the healing by months now. Not days or even weeks. I look at what was happening six months or a year ago and can see a difference. It might be something very small, but I grasp any evidence of healing with both hands and hold on tight. I know that things will  never go back to the way they were, but with God's help and a lot of faith and prayer, we may even be able to make our dream to serve street kids in Honduras a reality. The last few weeks just thinking about the future scared me to death and sent me into a panic attack. Yesterday in church, we heard about how Jesus called Peter to get out of the boat and walk on the water. We heard how Peter forgot to keep his eyes off the waves and on Jesus and started to sink. And how Jesus lifted him up out of the water, and together they climbed back into the boat. That's pretty basic. There was actually more said than that, but this particular sermon helped me realize that I had taken my eyes off Jesus. I was watching the waves instead. Yesterday, I remembered to look to Him again, and for the first time in awhile, I felt something that felt a lot like hope. I don't know what the future holds, but I know that He's got this.