Fighting Discouragement (A Guest Post by Darin)

Note: I am really so pleased to be able to share these honest and inspiring words from my husband tonight.  It has been my privilege and honor to convey our journey since his accident on behalf of him and our whole family.  But I think you will be especially blessed to read his OWN words now:

Erika has so eloquently captured our journey since my accident through Facebook and blog posts.  Although I know I should be disciplined at writing and journaling, I’ve failed to write until now.  I’ve attempted to show my gratitude for all the support received since my accident, but I’m convinced I have failed to share how important your support and encouragement has been throughout my recovery.

It is so easy to be swallowed by discouragement.  Focusing on the daily trials could easily spiral me into despair.  My disability is very visible, and it’s easy to assume that the hardest obstacle to overcome is my restrictions in mobility.  It is hard witnessing the world through a wheel chair, or being compared to a turtle because I’m so slow using my walker.  But my biggest physical obstacles are not visible.

My primary obstacle is chronic pain.  Although I have regained muscle strength to be able to walk, ignoring the pain is hard.  The pain is hard to describe, it’s like the tingling feeling when your foot goes numb coupled with an aching feeling when you stretch a muscle.  It’s most noticeable when I’m stationary and makes it nearly impossible to be comfortable.  The intensity varies throughout the day, and I haven’t discovered how to control it.  I have found exercises that help reduce the pain, but rarely is it avoided.  I can’t escape it, or lay in bed and try to ignore it.  I catch asking myself, “is this the life that I’m called to…overshadowed by pain?” 

Another obstacle is managing my bowels and bladder.  I have to manage my diet and fluids closely, wondering what impact foods or caffeine may have on my body.  I have to use “alternative methods” when using a toilet, and though they aren’t painful, it can be depressing when confronted that my body and its systems don't work like they were designed to.

Accepting the changes to my body is hard.  It could be as simple as taking a shower and not being able to feel the water on certain areas of my body.  Often I’m unaware of how my legs have deteriorated from muscle loss, but reminded when I see a picture of myself.  Discovering a handful of soft tissue where there used to be firm muscle is depressing.  I now have to use care when I sit because I don’t have muscle cushioning my pelvis, and can never slouch and must remain a rigid posture to not put stress on my lower back or experience pain and discomfort.  Finally, I’ve discovered that my hip is fragile because it isn’t protected by the normal layers of muscle and must use extreme caution to prevent a fall.  I can get lost by wondering if these changes to my body will be restored to pre-injury or if this is the new normal.

Focusing on these physical obstacles could easily spiral me into despair, without even considering the emotional obstacles and challenges to being a father and husband.  Trying to shoulder the burden of these obstacles would crush me.  I don’t have the optimism or shear grit to press through.  I don’t even have the faith to hold on to hope confronted with these obstacles.  It is the strength of the Holy Spirit moving through the family of God that sustains me.  When my hope is crushed, I can lean on the hope of others.  When my faith is weak, I can find strength in the faith of others.  When downcast, I can find encouragement through the support of others through letters and prayers.  When discouraged, I encounter the presence of God through the sacrifices that so many have made to support our family.  Sacrifices to modify and care for our home, caring for our children, gifts of financial support, surprise visits to Chicago to offer encouragement, unexpected gifts, pampering my wife, taking care of our pets, and providing meals.

I am often humbled by comments of the strength that we demonstrate through this trial.  I want to confess that I am weak, and could be easily swallowed by the discouragement encountered so often.  You don’t need to search hard to find men who have encountered the same injury who live in despair.  Any strength demonstrated is the result of the Holy Spirit working through the hands of so many lifting us up in prayer, making sacrifices on our behalf, and offering words of encouragement and support. 

There is a poster found in many churches of footprints on a beach.  The story that accompanies the picture if of a man who looks back on his life and only sees one set of footprints during trials.  He discovers that the footsteps he sees belong to Christ who is carrying him through those trials.  A better picture of how Christ supports us through trials is that there would be so many footprints you couldn't distinguish one from another, because it is Jesus working through His Church that carries us through trials.  I am weak, but carried through this trial by the feet of so many provides me strength, hope, faith and endurance.  Physically, I don't know what healing I will experience, but I do know that after being touched by they Holy Spirit through the hands of so many, I will never be the same.

Erika here again!  I wanted to share that our family has temporarily relocated to the Chicago area so that Darin could receive therapy from the renowned Rehabilitation Institute of Chicago and we are nearing the end of our three month stay here.  While Darin and our whole family have made many gains here, we have also been walking through even more valleys, as he has experienced another major injury (a hip fracture) which required another surgery and hospitalization.  We continue to ask for prayer, especially on this last stretch here before we head back home. We love you!

xoxo,

Parenting in Crisis

I was shopping at Costco last week with my Nora, and (as most Costco trips go) the longer I roamed the aisles and filled that big ol' shopping cart with glorious amounts of bulk food items and paper goods, the more unwieldy it became.  While I was scoping out the children's pajamas in the clothing section, I came upon a cute little girl, with a thick fringe of brown bangs (not unlike the kind I sported as a little girl) and I made an abrupt stop to keep my cart from plowing her over.  I guessed her to be maybe 3 1/2 or 4 years old, and I gave her a smile, as I saw and heard her mother scolding her for wandering in front of my cart.

"That's okay!" I assured the other mom, "I have three kids of my own.  I get it. And she was not a bother to me!"

"Three!" she responded, "you have your hands full!" she said

"I do," I agreed, smiling, and added, "but they are a blessing."

"Well.  They are SOME of the time." she replied.

In the next moments, I responded with a candor that is characteristic for me in my interactions with strangers and new acquaintances... and sorely lacking in discretion (which is certainly a discipline in my life that is begging for growth and improvement).  But for better or for worse I opened my mouth and said,

"Well, I'll tell you what. Six months ago, my husband fell off a 15 foot ladder, sustained a spinal cord injury and his life changed forever. But he is making an amazing recovery and I don't think he could have gotten through these difficult months nearly as well if it weren't for the motivation and smiles that our three children have afforded him."

Ooops.  Had I really just said that?  Had I just reprimanded a poor unsuspecting woman who had probably just had a rough day with her pre-schooler? Heck, I know that pre-schoolers (even cute, curious ones with fringe bangs) are notorious for pushing boundaries, trying to usurp control from their parents and being inflexible and demanding.  Did I really have to make her uncomfortable with our big dramatic spinal cord injury story that is about as heavy as that big cart I was pushing around and almost ran her daughter over with?

To this fellow, Costco-shopping mommy: I don't think you will ever read this, but if by some strange coincidence you do, please receive my apologies for blurting that out.  It was impulsive, preachy and uncalled for. I am embarrassed and I am sorry.

But, if any kernel remains from my display of candor in Costco... if any good stays with me from that memory, it is this: Raising little children is hard. Raising little children in the midst of family crisis and upheaval is harder than I could have ever dreamed.  Sleepless nights with a teething toddler, behavioral challenges that are out of this world with my older two, their innocent and heartbreaking questions shooting straight through all of my fears and confusion when our world as we knew it was crumbling down and taking an unrecognizable form.  Coordinating childcare when needed, attempting to keep some of our homeschooling routine, getting them to their own doctors appointments, dance classes and art classes. Getting them to bed at night before double digits, talking them through their traumatic memories from the day their daddy fell and was whisked away to the hospital on a fire truck... Fielding all of this while trying to support and advocate for Darin and learning to provide care for him that I never dreamed would be required of me at the age of 34. No doubt about it.  This has been complicated.  And crazy hard.

But our three sweet babies.  Lucy. Collin. Nora.  They are gifts from the hand of God Almighty, vessels of His grace, and healing balm to our souls.  I don't know if they will ever know how much they mean to us, now more than ever, unless or until they have babies of their own someday. 


Everyday I stumble as their mother. Every day, there is some way that I don't do right by them. But I hope. And I pray. That they too will see and receive grace upon grace poured out over them from God in Heaven and if Darin and I get to administer some small portions of that grace as we parent them in the midst of these challenging and difficult times, we consider it a beautiful privilege and honor.

xoxo,