Car crashes, undeserved grace, and seeking hearts
Ten years ago today, I was in a horrible car accident that left me with, among other injuries, five breaks between both my ankles, unable to walk for 12 weeks. It’s odd that I’ve been thinking about this anniversary as much as I have; in recent years, the day often goes by without me even remembering it until Facebook memories pop up or friends share their social media memories with me. But 10 years feels different for some reason. The day has been on my mind for a few weeks. My body is definitely remembering this milestone; I feel antsy when I’m driving, more nervous than usual when my kids are driving, and full of dread that something bad is going to happen. But I also feel a small rally cry inside of me to remember and return to how I felt right after my accident, which, oddly, was pretty good.
Yes, my accident left me feeling changed for the better.
First off, and most obviously, I survived. I was hit head on by a young woman who was texting while driving. We were both going 50 mph (yes, that was the speed limit on that particular road) and multiple first responders on the scene told me it was “a miracle” I was alive. The entire front of my car was crumpled, and if you looked at it from the side, it looked like my car had been cut in half. Miracle. Once the shock wears off, it’s an overwhelming feeling to know you could have – in a very real sense – just died. And this knowing filled me with a fervent desire to never take life for granted again. I was going to love every moment, take in every sunrise, look for my blessings regardless of my trials, and embrace the love I felt around me, never more present than in those first days post crash.
But, like most promises we make to ourselves, time erodes them. Day by day, month by month, year by year, the thanks I felt for being spared was chipped away and replaced with what I think we all feel every day – the push and pull, ups and downs of getting through life. I have great days; I have horrible days. And most days, I focus more on my stressors and anxieties than on what makes me happy. And if I’m honest with myself, I have so much to be thankful for. So on this day, I’m recommitting to the joy of living. I am going to do my best to embrace the little blessings that are always right in front of us if we only choose to see them. Mel Robbins, in one of her podcasts, talks about a practice of looking for hearts everywhere. If you walk through your day seeking the hearts, you’ll find that shape in a leaf, a puddle, a cloud. You will find what you seek. I want to seek joys, both big and small.
My accident also gave me so many other gifts. A thankful heart for my children not being in the car with me. The grace of God that removed any angry feelings toward the woman who hit me. She was only 25. She made a mistake and I hope that if my children ever made the same mistake, they would be granted grace. The full embrace of a community who stepped up in every single way to hold me. We received meals for 62 straight days. Friends and casual acquaintances volunteered to run errands, drive my children, and do things around the house for us. There were countless visits, cards, texts, and well wishes that prove the power of kindness and the impact of one small gesture. And, the close knit love of my family who never left my side and stared at me with open eyes each day just waiting for me to tell them what I needed next. I was so well held for so long. It taught me what it means to hold another. And I fail at this regularly. Holding another isn’t about the big moments. It’s about making time, sitting in silence (or laughter or whatever is needed), and looking another in the eyes to say “none of this is too much for me – I am here for you, no questions asked.”
Obviously, trauma is complex. My accident and its fallout has changed me in lots of ways and I think there is still much I need to process from it. I don’t have cartilage in either ankle, I have an open fracture that causes occasional pain and swelling, and my balance is forever impacted. I was told I might never walk normally again, but I ran/walked a 10k just to prove to myself that my life would and could be normal. But, while I work through those challenges, I also want to find my way back to the blessings. I want to hold hands, not waste a moment, embrace joy, be present, and seek hearts.
