Thankful For The Scars, Part 2

In my last post, I described the deep inner joy of looking back at God's faithfulness and healing through all my trials and pains, realizing how truly thankful I am for the scars in my life.

Well today, I would like to go a little deeper and tell of a past trial that produced many scars - both outward and inward - that resulted in praise and drew me closer to Jesus. It is a story that I am truly grateful for.

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I was around 13 years old. Life for me revolved around finishing school, riding horses, and... riding horses. Ok yes, there was more to my life than that, but as far as I was concerned, if I got to ride horses that day, it was a good day.

I was an infant in my spiritual maturity. God was important to my family, but He had not yet become a reality and Ruler in my heart. Looking back, I do see that my heart was searching for something... I just didn't know that "something" was God Himself.

Late one afternoon, my family and I had just returned home from a long trip and I was dying to get outside and be with the horses. My sisters and I decided to hook up our horse carriage to our mule that our Grandfather had given us, and drive around the house playing "princesses".

What started out as a quiet afternoon carriage ride quickly turned into a terrifying event, for while we had been away, a wasp family had built their nest under the wagon and suddenly decided to take our their fury on our poor mule. Needless to say he went crazy and Courtney, my sister who was driving, couldn't control him. He made a mad dash straight for the wooden fence, only to turn and miss it by a few feet which tilted the entire wagon on it's side. I somehow lost my grip (I was just standing on the back) and I fell on top of the wheel and it pulled me under the wagon.

All I really remember is seeing the wagon roll (or ramp) over my stomach which resulted in me loosing my breath and feeling severe pain. I just stared up at the blue sky as I tried to take in a breath, realizing that this was more than just a little tumble. Courtney and Carley finally got our mule calmed down and quickly came running over to me. Soon after that, Dad came over and gently helped me to the house. He just assumed that I had knocked the breath out of me, but the more I tried to breathe in and out I knew that something was really wrong. I felt like my lungs were collapsing.

Mom sat me on the couch and tried to help me stop shaking. I slowly got across that I was not ok and would like to go to the doctor. She helped me into the car and we headed to the Emergency Room. When we finally arrived I was in serious pain. I had a black "tire mark" across my white tee-shirt that indicated something had happened in my midsection. The nurses got me hooked up to an IV (ouch!) and the doctor set out to assess what was wrong. For a couple of hours they tried to figure out the problem (while I waited with no pain medicine), doing a few CAT scans but were still unable to pinpoint where the pain was coming from.

Dad arrived shortly after, and was informed of my status (which at that time hadn't changed much). More hours went by as the doctors pondered over what to do, since they couldn't really see what was going on inside of me.

This was a pivotal moment for me, because for the first time in my life I realized that no one there could help me. As I looked from face to face for a sign of hope and relief, I recognized that God was the only One I knew who could help me.

I started to pray out loud for God to help and heal me. Like the numerous stories in the Bible of hurting people reaching out to Jesus and crying out for help, I was now putting my faith in Jesus knowing that He would listen and help me. He was no longer Something my parents believed in. I was believing in Him for myself; and I prayed with all my heart... and He answered.

The doctors suddenly resorted to emergency surgery. I was rushed in and God guided the doctor's hands to find that my liver had been lacerated and was releasing deadly bile into my body, which was slowly killing me. By God's amazing grace the wagon wheel had just missed my rib cage that could have resulted in lung puncture. Everything else was fine, just severely bruised.

I spent the next two weeks in the hospital slowly recovering. My parents, sisters, extended family and friends, and people I didn't even know were praying for me and supporting me. I felt so loved and cared for.

That was probably the longest two weeks of my life. I went through so much pain - and so much healing. Near the end of my stay, I was talking on the phone with my Mom who had went home to rest while she and Dad took shifts staying with me, and I was so desperately ready to go home that I finally broke down in tears, which was the first time I had cried through the entire experience. I was overwhelmed, but I was ready to try again. God had given me a second chance; I realized He had a purpose for me. And I wanted to fulfill it.

As I look back almost eight years later, my heart is filled with emotion and irrepressible gratitude for God's amazing grace and faithfulness in my life. My scars are precious to me because they remind me of the great pain... but more importantly, the triumphant healing.