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One moment I was a mother of four, juggling everything while my husband was deployed. I was tired but capable. The next moment I was on the floor unable to move my legs.
I had attempted a super-human leap across the room to catch my two-year-old daughter from falling. There was a burst of incredible pain, and I ended up lying in the middle of my living room, trying to drag myself to her, unable to reach a phone in the empty house. That was the beginning of several months of hospital visits, appointments with every kind of specialist, and so many tests. While my right leg recovered, my left leg was paralyzed. I lost the ability to walk and had to learn to navigate life and motherhood from a wheelchair.
The doctors came to the conclusion that a specific complication from my initial injury had been overlooked and caused nerve and muscle damage. However, all the scary conditions were also discussed and screened for. It’s startling how facing the possibility of diseases that could steal everything from you or take your life puts the loss of a functioning limb into perspective. And now that I am learning a new normal, I think about the mothers, daughters, and grandmothers that I have seen during my weeks in hospitals and doctors’ offices—brave women who are battling far worse things than I am. Not one of them deserves what they are facing more than I do, and the colorful head scarfs, bedazzled wheelchairs, and sweet smiles are a testament to the grace they are embodying…
I don’t think I lost the use of my leg because God wanted to teach me something, but there is one thing I have heard very clearly throughout this challenging season. Today I’m sharing those words over at (in)courage
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