Try 4.

The title is as such because it is, literally, the fourth word document I have opened and started on this topic since last spring. The third time just wasn’t a charm.. The other documents were entitled:

Invincible, Identity in Christ, and Celebrating Life

Looking at the variety, you may have noticed that they seem to go in different directions. Well, this is true; it is also why one has not been posted yet. Every time I tried to compile my thoughts, so many aspects got linked into it and I didn’t really know where I was going with any of them. But when do I ever know where I’m going when I start these posts? Here’s to try 4!

To start, I’ll share part of an entry from June 10^th, the 5-year-anniversary:

Because I am no longer trying to hide from people that the crash happened, I thought that meant I was embracing that piece of my past. Well.. maybe I hadn’t been, really. In fact, I had basically disassociated myself with the crash in general. Whereas before I was hiding the crash from the outside world and intensely struggling internally, more recently I’d been sharing it with the outside world and not connecting with it internally so much. Does that even make sense? It was almost like I was sharing a story rather than an experience.

I don’t mean to say that I haven’t connected with the crash at all lately, but something has been different. And I wonder if it has really only been this past week that I’d lost sight of that portion of my life. As I have been in Champaign, Illinois for FOCUS New Staff Training these past two weeks, a lot of opportunities for physical activity have come up. Something punk inside of me was feeling like I could do all of it and more. I was pushing my body hardcore and not appropriately responding to its hints of disagreement.

Whenever I disassociate myself with the crash, I tend to over-involve myself with physical activity. Summer training proved to be no different.

Something punk inside of me was feeling like I could do all of it and more. I was pushing my body hardcore and not appropriately responding to its hints of disagreement.

To explain this particular occasion, I’ll give some background. Up to that point, I had gone running less than a handful of times over the preceding five years. That week, I started getting up early with a friend to go for a run every morning, except for the morning that we went down to the fitness center instead. I ended up playing sand volleyball for 2 ½ hours on Tuesday night and then, on Wednesday, we did a scavenger hunt on the UICU campus that basically involved 2 ½ hours of running. By Friday, I may have not actually gotten up for a run; my body was shot. And, as usual, we had five classes that day. Sitting down is not my favorite pastime. After the first session, I moved to the back of the room and sat on the floor so I at least didn’t have to sit in a chair. It was humbling, yes.

With Kristen and Jodi, ready for L'Angelus
[stolen from Kristen ;) ]

That afternoon or evening, I can’t remember which; I was lying down in my bed to recoup a bit. I did start feeling somewhat better and headed over with the group to the L’Angelus concert nearby. When invited up to dance with some friends, I thought to myself, “..I love dancing.. that’s probably not a good idea.. I love dancing.. my body hurts.. I love dancing.. I can do it.. I love dancing..” I was right on with every statement: I loved it, it wasn’t a good idea, and my body already felt destroyed, but I was still able to do it. But just because I was able to dance doesn’t mean that I should have taken that opportunity to do so. As expected, the movement increased my pain. It took a pride check, but I did eventually leave the dance floor to “go to the bathroom” and I found some support against the brick wall of the building exterior (after I did, indeed, go to the bathroom). Several kind people approached me to find out if I was okay and I assured them that I wasn’t depressed, lonely, burnt out, and ready to quit FOCUS, just sore.

The Irresistible Invitation

I tagged along with a group that left the concert early and just spent some time lying in the grass outside of the UICU Newman Center. That was nice. Then I went up to my room and probably didn’t go to sleep right away, but I can’t remember. The next day, I made an attempt to put life into words. From June 9^th:

Today has been one of those days that I have been reminded of how human I am. With that, I’ve been reminded of how weak I am … Today, I cried. Aside from today, I can’t remember the last time I cried because I was in physical pain.

Yeah, so, I was in pain. But that’s not why I’m writing this; in fact, it is more painful for me to admit that I feel pain than it is to actually feel the pain. [Pride problem.] I share this because I learned a lot through the pain I felt. God worked through that pain to explain to me how disassociated I had become with my own self. Like I said before, the crash was more like a story than an experience. For some reason, I led myself to believe that my body could handle anything I threw at it. I made very selfish decisions when I chose to go running and participate in excessive amounts of physical activity. I completely abandoned the simple fact that I am a survivor. Yes, I survived, but something happened to me to make me a survivor. More specifically, something happened to my body, something happened that truly did make me unable to comfortably partake in activities it once performed easily before. And God is responsible for this miracle survival story in my life; He is the reason I am still here. By making the decisions I did to take on more than my body can handle, I disregarded that I am a survivor. I ignored the fact that God blessed me extremely with the ability to walk again and I tried to pretend like nothing ever happened in the first place. I acted like the crash never happened, which took the miracle out of my sight as well.

Note to Self: This is your car. This is your seat. You were inside and sitting in this seat when it became in such shape. It is okay to take it down a notch.

And, to not confuse you, I’m not saying that I should not be participating in any physical activity. God has blessed me with the ability to still partake in these activities, which is a miracle in itself. However, I tend to participate for selfish reasons; I dance and run and play because I want to. Instead of offering the opportunities up to Our Lord and thanking Him for them, I praise myself for “coming so far” through the years and “working up the strength” to partake. Again, to not confuse you, I’m not saying that God doesn’t want me to experience the miracle He has blessed me with; I’ve just been selfish with the miracle and I’ve tried using it to connect to the past. The few times I actually have surrendered my inability to partake, God has responded so fast. It took me several years to finally say, “God, okay, I really miss soccer, and I don’t really understand, but I accept that I just can’t play. It was important to me, but You are more important to me. I’m out of opportunities now and I know it will be okay; Your Plan will be much more fulfilling than mine and I know that.” Very soon after this discussion, God presented me with an opportunity to play intramural soccer at NDSU and I almost peed my pants! God has the best timing, of course. Other huge physical activity blessings have been hiking Bear Mountain and completing the 40-mile bike race and ride. These were moments that God has given me to share with you. They are moments that show His Power to heal and strengthen.

Embracing the reality that I sat on that bike for 40 miles straight.. and didn't die or disintegrate.

I had written more on this feeling of being “invincible” this past spring (my first try), so I’ll just paste that on here as well:

God pulled me through something intense and so many people have referred to me as “such a strong girl.” I never understood that remark; I had done nothing to prove any sort of strength. The urge to say something like this frequently came to my mind: “Yes, I am currently alive. How does that make me strong? What else am I supposed to be doing?” Someone was strong in the whole ordeal, but it wasn’t me. The strong one was, is, and forever will be, God. Unfortunately, I wasn’t giving Him the credit. The whole “strong girl” thing seemed like a pretty good gig, even though I didn’t necessarily agree with it and still felt somewhat uncomfortable when referred to as such. I felt like a big wimp, but I used to jokingly say that I was invincible. If that kind of impact couldn’t kill me, then what could, right? I’m afraid that, to some extent, I actually started to believe this lie.

But don’t we all think we are invincible sometimes? Don’t we seem to forget about the fragile state our lives are in at any given moment? Do we acknowledge the fact that our lives could end in a split-second without warning? No. These things just aren’t on our minds or we’d be labeled as paranoid. We don’t think about the occurrence of death, especially in reference to ourselves. And we don’t worry too much about the state of Grace that we are currently in, because we can always redeem ourselves tomorrow. Well, my friends, we do not always have a tomorrow in this life. Whether you want to die or not, it will happen. And it may not be during your afternoon nap at the age of 106. I don’t say this to make you paranoid, but to open your eyes up to the way you are living now. If your life ended right now, would you be ashamed with what you were presenting before Christ?

I’ll leave it at that. It could link nicely into forming an identity in Christ, but it’s already all over the place. That particular topic can be saved for a later post, whenever God reveals it is time. And, readers of the blog, thank you. Writing these posts help me to better understand my relationship with Christ, but I pray that they help you to better understand your relationship with Christ as well. He is Our Way and Our Purpose; don’t ever forget that. I Love You!