Things that bind us....

It was around the middle of August when I realized that my marriage was not going to last, and a deep sadness set in. It was also around that time I began to follow a blog about a husband and wife who had been in a plane crash. They both survived, but were severely burned. They live in Arizona and are the parents of four small children, similar in age to mine. The wife had been a blogger for three years and had quite a following. Her sister also had a blog, which had its own following. Because of their blog following the story began to get a lot of media attention, both locally and nationally, which is what first drew me to both their blogs. Over the last few months I have been following the sister's blog, with the continual updates on the medical condition of the couple. I have also began to read older posts from the wife and mother severely burned in the crash. She writes about life as a mother, and the simple pleasures of enjoying her children and husband.

Clearly now her life is forever changed, and how she choose to move forward from this point is her decision to make. Life as she knew it will never been the same. She has just recently started to come out of her medically induced coma and realize what lies ahead. Although our challenges are different, the pain, sorrow and change bind us together. I too feel like I am coming out of a coma of sorts, with new roads to travel, and the future is forever changed from the past. In many ways what she and her family are feeling right now is the same thing I am feeling only the circumstances are different. As I have read her sister's blog, and the beautiful things she has written, it has struck a cord with me, and helped me to realize we all feel the same emotions, they just come to us through individual trials. That emotion is what is able to bind us together in empathy for others who also experience trials.

I have copied parts of two of my favorite posts:

November 11, 2008,

"I have never known the heaviness that I have felt the past few days. It weighs upon your heart and never leaves your soul. Though I have prayed for it to leave, I have come to understand that this is part of the process. Sometimes there is nothing to do but feel the depths of humanity. And I can't even begin to imagine those who will feel it much deeper than I do now.But, God is with us. Eventually He will help us carry this and lighten our heavy in due time. We believe in better times. We believe in eternal happiness. We know that an atonement was made and all is not lost. It is times like these where faith is more valuable than anything in this world. This is how we become more like our Father in Heaven.Stephanie knows this too, and she will be fine. That is the amazing aspect of faith. When you allow for hope to grow in your heart you find that peace takes root and is not easily destroyed. She knows."

October 20, 2008

"So much of her recovery is still unknown, and we are so encouraged and hopeful by every report, but it is a long road of progress and setbacks, and we have to be patient. We. Have. To. Wait.

Through all of this, I kept thinking of all the possible outcomes. All bandaged, without a medical degree or crystal ball, I couldn’t tell. Will she be able to tie little shoes again? Pick up children? Make a meal? Type? Paint? Turn the pages of a book? Make a craft? I asked this really energetic nurse, after I listened to her give this week’s update. I knew she not only had the experience and knowledge of a seasoned nurse, but that she had compassion and real love for each one of her patients. I knew she could answer my question in a realistic way, so I asked her what the most likely outcome would be for Stephanie. I was expecting a specific list of what she would and would not be able to do, but what I got was a 30 minute explanation that has changed my way of thinking.

She explained that there’s no way of knowing what the future will be, and that, basically, I was asking the wrong question. She spoke of other burn victims, how well they’re doing now, what they’re doing now, the successes and happiness they’ve expressed to her. She told me that everything is different now and that things will never be the same. Ever. If we, as her family and friends, are constantly comparing her to the way she used to be, then we’ll never be satisfied. It will never be enough. If, however, we compare her to how far she’s come, each step of the way, and see the miracle that her body is in surviving and changing, then each success will be a leap, not an inch, forward from a devastating moment. If we say, Look how much better she’s doing since September!, we’ll be encouraged. Or, at Christmas, if we say, Look how amazing she is since Halloween! , we’ll find joy in her success, not frustration. It reminds me how the Clarks, on the 4th of July, always say, Before you know it, there will be snow on the mountains, and it will be Christmas! and on Christmas say, Before you know it, it will be hot and we’ll be celebrating the 4th of July! It’s right around the corner! We laugh about it, but we’re always really thinking that. From holiday to holiday, that’s how we mark time.

I’ve been thinking about how I mark progress and how often my perspective, although linear, is off. I’m frustrated when I think of the ideal in my head, whether physical, spiritual, mental, or even emotional. I think I have unrealistic expectations sometimes, mostly in how fast I think I should be progressing. If I evaluate myself in terms of an ideal, I will never feel a period of rest or success. When I look at myself, in all aspects of life, all things considered, from a different perspective of several years ago, a few years ago, or a month ago, and allow myself to see how far I’ve come, then I can see it. I can see what difficult experiences have taught me–what knowledge they’ve given me and what incredible value they hold for me. And any progress, no matter how slow, is progress. But. I. Have. To. Wait.

I spoke with two of my sister in-laws whose fathers both died when they were young, and Topher’s grandma who lost her husband when she had a house full of little kids. They all made the same four points, individually, to me this week: 1. We all have tragedy in our lives–no one escapes it. 2. Looking back, I can see so many blessings coming out of the tragedy. 3. We were meant to help each other amid tragedy, and 4. We can be in the middle of a tragedy and still be happy. Somehow, these points help me see how far Stephanie has really come, and how truly inspirational her healing is. It makes me think that when we think we’re waiting, we’re really progressing."