I could not understand why my life had been spared. While in the hospital, I had a physical therapist named Craig. He tried not only to be my therapist, but also my friend. We spent five hours a day, five days a week together. He saw me on my best days and my worst days. I thank God to this day, that he was with me on the day that I finally hit rock bottom. This particular day was also the day before I was to leave the hospital to return home.
Craig was trying to show me how to pull myself into the wheelchair from the floor. This activity was probably the hardest thing that I had to accomplish, up until that point, anyway. It required me to pull my body up, dead weight, using only my arms. As I made my first attempt, I could feel every muscle in my body stretch to its limit. I yelled out in pain. My second attempt was even worse. I yelled again. But this time, I didn't yell because of the pain, I yelled because I was so angry. I wasn't supposed to be going through this. I had kept all of my emotions bottled up and now they were all beginning to pour out. Why me? Why was I being punished? What did I do to deserve any of this? Craig gave me a hug. We sat for a moment in silence as we embraced. I looked at him with tears in my eyes and just asked him why?
He explained to me that God had a plan for me. There was a purpose behind all the pain, suffering and loss that I was feeling. He looked at me full of confidence and reassured me that something good was going to come from this tragedy. With tears still running down my face, I looked at Craig with a smile and thanked him for this encouragement.
That night was my last night in the hospital. I was so thankful, yet, I was still had a lot of emptiness and curiosity as to what my destiny was. I started thinking about what Craig had told me about God having a bigger and better purpose for my life and all that I was to face in the future. Then I remembered the feelings that I had as a little girl. The feelings that one day I was going to do something big to help others and make a difference. It came to me then. I suddenly had a sense of peace and ironic joy. I had been blessed with a new life and a meaningful future. My life up until that point had no direction and no greater purpose. I had just an ordinary life. My life had been a book of blank pages. I now could start filling those pages with inspiring words. I decided that I could take my tragedy and turn it into something much greater. I had hope that I could make it through all of this and come out stronger. I could not let this event stop my life.
The next day I left the hospital. As I watched the familiar surroundings pass by, I knew that there was hope with determination. I could make my life anything that I wanted it to be. I would find my purpose. I just had to believe.
Now, six years later, I have three beautiful daughters; I have accomplished many great things and touched many lives with my testimony. I know that I still have more good to come. Without this accident, and my wheelchair, so many blessings would have passed me by. I believe that my purpose is to tell my story, to inspire those who have lost hope because of their tragedies. I truly believe that everything happens for a reason. Life does not give you anything that you can not handle. I am proud of the person I have become and that I am yet to be. I would not have the joy that I feel today, if I would have allowed myself to be overwhelmed with self-pity, and gave up. God always has a plan for our lives. All things are possible with him, if we just believe...the sky is the limit.