"Say it ain't so"

              Ever since I was a young child, I have always believed in God. But not for any particular reason like my parents were a positive influence upon me by taking me to church or testifying of the truthfulness about God. My faith was always just simply there. One of my earliest memories was around age two, when I used to fervently pray to Him. It is written, “But he who did not know, yet committed things deserving of stripes, shall be beaten with few. For everyone to whom much is given, from him much will be required; and to whom much has been committed, of him they will ask the more.“ Luke 12:48. I also believe the counter to be true ~ for much that is required, much will be given. I understood this in my “infancy” due to the circumstances surrounding my life.

              I’ve spoken to dozens upon dozens of different ecclesiastical leaders over the years, whether they’re called Bishops, priests, ministers, pastors, etc. throughout my life to gain better insight of why things have occurred in my life as they have. Many did not have any answers for me. Some suggested that I must have somehow deserved the things that happened to me. While others simply looked upon me with awe, as if I was some sort of special person for having endured so much. I respected those who simply didn’t know why bad things were allowed to happen with such furiousness and constant vilification. I don’t think that there is anything special about me. And I certainly don’t believe that I deserved the majority of the nonsense I’ve lived through.

            I had an interesting event occur to me a couple of weeks ago. I was watching a video about the “Theory of Everything…” by Trey Smith on YouTube. Before it began, I said a quick prayer that I would learn something important as I don’t spend much time watching television or videos; instead, I tend to read quite a bit. As usual, when I watch inspiring things, I have to stop to rewind it at times because what was revealed was impressive and I tend to take a lot of notes. The video is long, nearly three hours, but so informative that time slipped by quickly. I have since watched the video several more times, each viewing I learn something that I missed previously. I was reluctant to share my thoughts and feelings about what was happening to me, as I had to figure it out for myself. I spent a lot of time praying, pondering and reading the scriptures while doing so.

            One morning it all kind of caught up to me and I began to cry. Softly at first, then my body was wracked with sobs. I suppose that I had been going through a lot at the time, lost a lot of sleep due to pain I’ve been experiencing from some major surgery I just had. But that wasn’t the only reason. Nor was it the main reason. Over eighteen years ago I was involved in a head-on collision (no, I was not driving) while I was eighteen weeks pregnant. I had miscarried a twin that I was carrying the month before (as told to me by my doctor) so I was overly protective of the pregnancy. I couldn’t believe that the inconceivable was happening to me. I can still recall with vivid detail every moment that lead up to and including the impact of the car that we tee-boned. It was nothing short of a miracle that the pregnancy survived an earlier miscarriage as well as a violent head-on collision, though my body finally had enough at thirty weeks of pregnancy when my water broke. My son was born eleven days later and thankfully only spent one week in the neonatal intensive care unit before being discharged.

            When my son was two years of age, I was attending college to finish my degree that I began thirteen years prior. I had to write a research paper on special needs, and after lots of investigation, I chose autism. The reason was I thought that my son, who was my fourth born child, had many symptoms of it. It took an entire year before my fears were confirmed by the medical profession and I have spent the last sixteen years learning how to teach my son to rewire his brain to think a bit differently. I have always thought and also have told him nearly every day that I believe he is one of the most intelligent people I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. However, if anyone has any experience with autism, you will be told to expect the unexpected. As the fourth born, and the youngest for four years until his youngest brother was born, my son was not “allowed” to go away for any extended period of time. It was a lot of effort on my part, most of which has yet to be appreciated by anyone other than myself. However, I sacrificed all that I had to ensure my son was able to get all the help he needed.

            Fast forward to his teenage years; specifically the last two years and I am reeling from the change of our relationship. I was the only one my son trusted for the longest time, as I was the only one who was guaranteed to be there when he needed someone. We were very close, often laughed about the silliest things and even had a “secret” handshake when things became a bit overwhelming for him. After going through some terribly trying domestic violence from my ex, the security that my son once felt was replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Within a short amount of time, he barely spoke to me and when he did, it was usually with contempt. I know why he did this, and I know who was the most influential for making this occur, but it doesn’t change the fact that it happened. Nor does it “fix” my son who is extremely confused that the one person that he could always count on was now his “supposed enemy” as he didn’t want to alienate those who were whispering in his ear. So, I did what I’ve always done when life gets to be more difficult than I can handle, I turn to Him in prayer.

            At times, my son would come back to me, his usual jovial self with interesting facts that you never knew you never knew. And I gave thanks. This past year my health had taken a severe and sudden change for the worse as my injuries suffered from the car accident began to cause my arm, hand, and fingers to turn colors they shouldn’t have and go numb. I began to drop things with regular occurrence and my doctor had sent me off to have so many tests, but nothing explained the worsening of my symptoms. Finally she ordered an MRI of my neck. A radiologist read it and immediately contacted my doctor to let her know how bad I was. When I made an appointment to see her, she told me that when a physician uses the words serious and immediate within the same sentence, it is vitally important. She referred me to a neurologist who saw me as quickly as he could. Within less than two months I went from dropping things and being frustrated that I had to withdrawal from school for the fifth time, still not having finished my degree to being told if I didn’t have surgery immediately that I would most likely be paralyzed within a year.

            That was a lot to wrap my mind around and I prayed a lot. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified of both the surgery and the possible outcome, even if it was successful. My ex and his attorney argued before a family court judge telling him that I was trying to garner sympathy from the court as I could have this “elective” surgery at any point and if it was indeed that bad, it should have been done years earlier. What my ex did not disclose to his attorney, or else his attorney decided not to disclose it to the court, is the amount of serious domestic violence that I endured at his hands. My children can remember when he picked me up over his head and slammed my body onto the ground out of anger. He was mad that I found out he was cheating on me.

            According to the surgeon, that most definitely exasperated my injuries the head-on collision had already caused. Thankfully, the family court judge is so much more intelligent than these two “men” (as I can hardly write the word knowing that both are being deceptive and the one has caused countless injuries including but not limited to physical, mental, financial, etc.). My surgery was scheduled and with the day fast approaching, I had so many tests that needed to be performed prior to the operation. My blood pressure was extremely high, despite medications, and I contracted pneumonia less than two weeks before the surgery. The day came and went without much incidence.

            I had three vertebrae removed and replaced (one was replaced with a cadaver donor) as well as several discs and a plate to cover it all up. The pain was excruciating, but as a woman who had given birth six times, four without any pain medication, I have an unusually high pain tolerance. But I cried, a lot. There are still times that I do, at least once a day from the pain, but I don’t usually cry in front of others. As a mother of many, I have grown accustomed to doing a lot, and my family has allowed me to do so, mostly because I make it look easy. It isn’t, it’s just that I’m tenacious and usually in motion. Thankfully, I didn’t have to do a lot over the past month, though I have done way more than I should have been doing. But if I didn’t do it, it simply wouldn’t have gotten done. My son, the one I had spent so much time teaching, taking him with me wherever I went as I was never embarrassed by him plus I wanted him to enjoy life rather than simply exist broke my heart when he told me, “Well, everyone has surgeries you know. There’s nothing special about you having one.”

            I don’t look for pity as I feel that is one of the weakest attributes anyone can have. However, I know that my son was merely repeating what he had heard from another. One day a couple of weeks after the surgery he saw me right after I had showered but before I put on my neck brace and he saw my 4 inch scar through the bandage that had yet to fall off. It seemed to shock him that I had actually undergone a very serious, scary and painful operation, but that look only lasted for a minute with a quick gasp and a, “whoa” that escaped his lips. He seemed like he was betraying someone so he immediately left the room after acknowledging that simple gesture. Again, I simply prayed that he would stop thinking in terms of “either/or” and start thinking more like “in addition to” with his allegiance. One day shortly after, I came across one of Trey Smith’s videos. Then I actively looked for more. After finding the one called “The Theory of Everything…” my thinking changed from uncertainty to quiet contentment. Several days later the impact of what I discovered became obvious to me and that’s when I sobbed as I hadn’t done in years. Probably since my brother, John had been murdered.

            After what seemed to be a very long time, but actually was only a few days, I knew what had changed inside of me, though I couldn’t quite put it into words to explain it to anyone. Finally the words came to me with such a still, quiet understanding that I was puzzled that it took so long for me to understand my dilemma. I had gone from having faith in God; faith being a belief in something that is not based upon logical proof, or something that is hoped for but yet unknown. To knowing that God did indeed exist. That rocked me to my very core. How did I know now, yet not know before? Why now and not before? Will this always be true? And if so, what now? And this knowing lead to a calm, peaceful feeling that all will be okay, no matter what happened to me later; I could no more deny knowing that God existed than I could deny that the sun rose and set every day, though I may not witness it.

            I don’t’ know what my future holds for me. I have many dreams yet to be realized and many goals to be reached before I give up the ghost. But I know that come what may, I’ve lived through some hellish nightmares that no one should ever have to experience in their lifetime. But I don’t feel bitter that I endured them, I feel grateful that I had not succumbed to becoming like those who desired me harm. My greatest accomplishments in my life, other than becoming a mother, are remaining true to myself and never stop having faith in God. He allowed me sufficient grace to endure all things, but not become like those whom I disliked and distrusted. My most prized possession is my ability to call upon God whether I’m going through hardships and adversities or I’m happy and content. At the end of Trey Smith’s video, he recalls a story told to him by a woman where she describes to him a dream that she had: “I had a dream and in my dream the voice of the Lord, Yahweh, came to me and He said, ‘For men of science to seek even the tip of the finger of who I am, I have but two words, ‘intrinsic energy,’ but you can call me Dad.’ ~ Trey Smith, “Theory of Everything: GOD, Devils, Dimensions, Dragons, Illusion & Reality -the Theory of Everything”

              That story wasn’t so much profound as it was poetic. Why wouldn’t our God, whom we are created in His likeness, have the same sense of humor that we possess? Why wouldn’t He want His children to come to Him to have a real, tangible relationship with Him that was as genuine as we desire to have with our own children? And if He had patience to wait me out for decades upon decades, then surely at some point my own son will come around and we will once again experience the closeness that we used to share before he became a bit jaded by the influence of others. Because if it happened to me, then why not to him as well? No one can tell me that God doesn’t speak to His children, or that He doesn’t want us to talk to Him. Even about mundane things that shouldn’t take precedence over our ailing world at this point in history. He is after all, God, I’m sure He can handle my prayer I send up asking for help to find my keys while He simultaneously also helps guide a plane to a safe landing on a runway. To be unable to multitask would actually render Him not to be God, right? And to that I would have to sincerely utter, “Say it ain’t so?”