One Year Post Mortem

November 19, 2011, the day I was supposed to die.  Almost three hundred & sixty-five days have passed and I am still very much alive.  As the one year anniversary approaches, I struggle.  Most of the physical pain of the accident itself is far behind me.  Other than slightly limited mobility in my neck, I suffer no long-term physical effects, even the scars on my neck, forehead and shoulder are barely visible.  To a stranger, I look normal, there is no tell-tale indication of the trauma I endured.  For that I am grateful.  There are still a few loose ends related to medical bills and insurance settlements, but nothing that plagues me. My emotional wounds however, are still a little raw.

There are days it seems my life will forever be divided into “pre” and “post” accident.  Before the accident I was scared of very little, a bit of a daredevil actually.  Today I am very much aware of my body’s fragility.  At my father’s 60th birthday party, an attempt to ride go carts was disastrous.  I barely made one lap around the track.  All I could think was, “I’m not wearing a helmet, if I crash I could fly head first into the pavement and break my neck again.”  I kept my cool long enough to park the go-cart, but collapsed into tears once I climbed out.  I am uncomfortable driving on the highway, especially at night.  My neck doesn’t turn towards the back well, and judging a car’s distance based on headlights in a rear view mirror is tricky. Walt Disney World’s Space Mountain used to be my all time favorite ride.  Not anymore.  I braved a ride on it this summer and spent the entire time praying I would survive, promising God that if I made it off alive I’d never ride Space Mountain again.  it’s a promise I’ll have no difficulty keeping.

What plagues me most is wondering why I lived.  Why did God set me apart?  Why did He save me?  A co-worker recently lost her cousin in an accident very similar to mine.  She was in the back seat of a vehicle that was rear ended by a semi, she broke her neck and died at the scene.  A friend’s younger brother died earlier this year.  He was younger than me and left behind a teen age daughter.  Why did their lives end while mine continues on?  Please do not misunderstand. I am not looking for an exit strategy.  I want to be around to see my children, nieces and nephews grow up, launch their careers and start families. I want to be part of their lives. I want to meet my future grandchildren. I want to graduate from college (yes, I’m a little behind in that department).  I want to travel the globe and love on orphans. I want to be a published (i.e., paid) author.   There is much to live for, but still I wonder why God chose to save me.

As I reflect on the last year I wonder if He is pleased?  Have I lived up to His expectation?  What have I accomplished this last year?  What difference have I made in the lives of those around me?  Am I leaving an indelible mark on the world?  Am I walking down the path He has chosen for me?  Am I fulfilling my purpose?  Today a very dear friend mentioned the upcoming anniversary and asked how I am.  My eyes started to sting and I had to fight back tears because I really am not sure.  I mean, I haven’t found a cure for cancer (though, I wasn’t trying either), or achieved any earth shattering feat.  Maybe I was just supposed to spend this year making a full recovery.  I am certain I accomplished that.

As the accident grows smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror of my mind, I pray that   His light is reflected in my life and spills over through my actions.  I pray that my existence brings Him glory.  I pray that my story of survival offers hope.  I pray that I am able to accomplish all that He has for me.  I pray that when my time does come, He will welcome me home with the soft words, “well done good and faithful servant.”