The Newlywed Diaries: When Your World Shakes
On July 31st at 2:00pm I thought my husband could be dead. Not for long, but just enough words provided convincing evidence that my husband was close to death and could meet its sting.
It was just enough time for my world shake, my priorities to shift and my foundation to lock in more sturdy and sure.
Car accident. Tree. Leg. Blood. Helicopter to MCV. Trauma Level 1. Husband. Alive.
So many thoughts stampeded my mind as my sister in law called me the afternoon it happened. “I’m coming to pick you up at work. There’s been an accident, but he is going to be ok.” But there was little resolve in that being truth for me. I needed to see him for myself. I needed to touch his face, feel the warmth of blood pulsing vigorously under scraped and damaged skin. I knew she meant well, but I had to see for myself.
I’ve never found hospitals to be a relieving place, but when it holds a breathing husband you thought could be gone within minutes, it is an oasis in a scorching desert.
He smiled at me as I looked down at him. My world, laying on a hospital bed, everything out of my control but my being there. Deep breath in, deep breath out.
Despite the severity of the situation he was making jokes, calming my worry. Family met in the waiting room, it’s size growing smaller as warm bodies filled it fuller. Love and support resided there.
Surgery would come around 10:30pm that evening. Love and support waited there with me again. We prayed, believed and smiled at better days to come. Out he came a few hours later, still Peter, my husband, my teammate in life. Cut open, sewn back together, but here. All that mattered was that he was still here. And I stayed, sleeping in a chair nearby, falling asleep with prayers and questions of what the future would look like.
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The weeks following his accident have not been easy. They have pressed us both against hard surfaces, to darker places within ourselves, to startling limitations, and we are trying everyday to come out stronger. To learn through the pits and new responsibilities. The stationary rest and exchanges of grace.
It is quite something to be handed most all responsibilities. To take care of home, husband, self, work, insurance, errands. It is a dying that until this point I had not become accustomed to. Yet we must adjust with the transitions of life whatever they may be. I am learning “Him and I both care, but let Him carry”.
The next while looks like a lot of rest for Peter and a lot of flexibility and responsibility for myself. I have cried more times than I can count the past few weeks. From emotions about my husband’s state, to worrying about finances, to crashing under the weighted pressure to do it all.
But for every moment I have felt the tears come, there are equal times that I have known God’s mighty hand has gone before us and cleared the path. Whether break-through or break-down— He’s been steadily reminding me that His character and heart is one that goes before us into the battle, the furnace, the deep abyss of unknowns.
Life feels more out of my control than it has ever been and it scares me. It wakes my beliefs up of what I thought was good or acceptable for my life. I am learning here, through moist cheeks and tired thoughts. The startle of death’s closeness in a moment’s play keeps me awake at night, but I know this will pass.
It is something of a violent nature to be woken up like this — through something tragic and severe. But I am waking up everyday, whether I feel like it or not. And I don’t have to be strong. I can be weak and worn, relying on Love to get me through the day. And I know its the same for my husband, too.
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My husband, my hero. All ships sail me home to you and your arms. You are strong, kind, brave and full of compassion. These past few weeks have rocked us but we know we can get through it together. Everyday I am grateful and delighted to be one with you. On our darkest days, God shines ever brighter. Abundant hope has met us here and moves us forward, stronger than we were before.
x o .