Many of you know I broke my ankle and my leg a little over a month ago. I hadn't had the time or mobility to write about it until now. It was by far the scariest thing that has ever happened to me. But I have learned so much too. I hope you will be encouraged through the lessons as well.
First of all here's what happened:
October 20 (Saturday) was my parents' Christmas shopping date this year. They left early in the morning, my brother and I got up a little later, did chores, had breakfast, and then I was supposed to drive him to our Grandma's house for the day. I had the option of staying at Grandma's too, or going home myself for a while and picking him up again later. My plan was to go back home, I was looking forward to an afternoon of a quiet, empty house. No brother OR parents! But that plan changed after we got to Grandma's. She thought it would be fun to take us exploring through Grandpa's pasture (when the cows weren't out there, of course). She asked if I was going to come too and she was soooo happy when I said "sure". The pastures's right next to a creek, and with the lack of rain here the past several months, the creek was low, you could see a lot of interesting things. There's an old dam out there too, my brother and I went to take a look at that while Grandma was exploring the creek shore yet. Then we headed back to meet up with Grandma again, which required walking back down the steep embankment we had walked up to get where we were. It was just a grass hill, basically...looked so harmless too. But it was really steep. It was grass, but it was covered in leaves. It had rained two days before, so the hill was a little damp. But I was aware of that, and being so careful. I'll be fine right? No, apparently not. On my way down, I slipped backward. And I went flying. I momentarily saw the sky above me before I smacked flat on my back on the middle of the hill. My left leg had went in front of me, but my right leg got stuck behind and under me. I guess I landed really hard on it. I heard a loud pop, and it was followed by immense pain. And just my luck, Grandma was waaaaaay far away. But she came running as soon as I screamed "I think I broke my leg!"
I don't think she believed me then, I honestly didn't either (or I refused to). My brother stayed with me, and Grandma scrambled back to her house to get Grandpa's truck. While we were waiting, my brother and I saw an ambulance drive by on the road behind us. I was trying (so hard!) to remember God was with me. It was just a little easier when after that happened. It was like He wanted me to know He was there, but He also wanted this experience to be a test for me, so He wanted me to wait for Him to rescue me on His own perfect timing. When Grandma got back I somehow had to get in the truck, using only one leg. I still don't know how I did that. I also don't know how I did what I did next- I had to call my mom. I could barely tell her the bare minimum of what I needed to say: "I'm hurt". All she could do was repeat in disbelief what I had said, so Dad heard too. They both almost fell over, I learned later, in the middle of Wal-Mart. She told me to go get it x-rayed, "to be safe"..."yeah ok" I said. But I knew it was more serious than what I was letting her on to. I also told her they didn't need to rush home right away, but I was silently hoping they would anyway (they immediately scrambled to the E.R. to meet us, but they were an hour's drive away).
At the E.R., they took two x-rays, then a few minutes later two more. I thought maybe they were just verifying that I was fine. But it hurt too bad, I knew what they were going to say and sure enough...I broke a piece of bone clear off the inside of my right ankle, and I broke my fibula (the small bone in the leg) a little higher up my right leg too. I would need an operation to put everything back in it's proper place, so my parents, who were there by then, picked a surgical hospital, and I had a nice, loud, bouncy, uncomfortable, hour-long, ambulance ride to get there. By then it's after 6 o'clock in the evening. But guess what? The surgeon that was on call that day happened to be a foot and ankle specialist. I kept trying to remind myself God loved me and was with me, but I really didn't have to, I kept seeing all these signs around me. They did the surgery a few hours later, I think it must have been 9 or so by then. They put a metal plate over my broken fibula, and they used screws to reattach the broken piece of my ankle. I was in a hospital room by 11 that night. Dad went home, but Mom stayed with me at the hospital. We didn't sleep hardly at all. I would just get to sleep, and a nurse would come in the room again. The most I got at a time was 20 minutes. But I survived the night, and the next day I had some (painful) practice with crutches, then they let me go home Sunday afternoon.
I was extremely sore for days afterward- every muscle in my body ached because of all the work I did with them. That's better now, and I think I got the general idea behind operating crutches (a license should really be required for use of those things). Now I just have to wait. While I've been waiting, I found time to listen to a new CD I'd gotten a month before the accident. It's by Tenth Avenue North, called "The Struggle". I figured, "Hey, I'm struggling here." And I was: the flashbacks were awful. I heard that fateful sound of my breaking bone for weeks. -In fact I still can if I let my mind wander. The nightmares, the hopelessness and trauma and pain and shame and sorrow. And guilt. I felt so guilty for what I'd done to my family. Mom told me Grandma had said to them at the E.R. she was a "bad grandma". I felt so terrible for all the trouble I'd caused. And I can't do a darn thing for myself, I still can't. I know my family is almost as exhaused as I am.
So anyway I startly listening to this CD. I recommend "The Struggle" to anyone out there who doesn't feel like they belong in the world anymore, or if you simply feel bad about the occasional troubles we all cause others sometimes. Or to anyone really. Everyone can learn something from it. It certainly helped me from going completely insane.
My favorite song off the record is below. It's called: "Don't Stop the Madness". Even after all I went through, I wouldn't change any
of it. At first I didn't know why it happened. But I know now God wanted my attention. I knew there was a reason I never found the summer job I'd been searching for for months. God had this all planned out. I'm still not exacly sure why He wanted my attention,
but I look forward to finding out. I used to be angry at myself for not going home that day like I'd planned, but I got to thinking, what if it had happened anyway? I would have been alone at the house, tripped down the stairs, then I'd been stuck all day, until my parents got home late that night. I wouldn't have been able to get to my phone or anything, because I don't usually carry it with me around the house (I'll break it or lose it or something). So it was probably best it had happened where it did.
Even as terrible as this whole thing was, my hope has remained the same: "God, don't stop the madness, don't stop the chaos, don't stop the pain, do what ever it takes to break my heart and bring me down to my knees again." If I'm on my knees, I know, and He knows I'm listening. Desperate for answers, and listening for an answer. I know that if God promises pain, pain can't mean nothing. It definetely means something. I just have to be willing to listen and accept the meaning. I also know that whenever God is hurting us, He is also loving us. He allows things to hurt us when He sees necessary, BECAUSE He loves us. I'm living proof, it doesn't last forever, and it always is designed to teach us something. So don't despair when God hurts you, and tests you through trials in this life. Tell Him not to stop the madness, but also not to stop His love, either. He hears, and WILL be glad to do as you
asked. Just be ready to allow Him.
"Don't Stop The Madness" by Tenth Avenue North:
