As I’ve been thinking about life—the hard and the holy, I’ve been doing a little reflecting. December 17, 2016 will always be a significant day. On one hand, it’s the day I survived. On the other, it’s the day my life changed forever.
Here are a few things life—and my brain injury—have taught me over the past nine years:
You only live—and die—once.
This moment, right here, right now, is the only one you’re guaranteed. Tomorrow isn’t promised. So kiss your spouse, spend time with your siblings and friends, put down your phone, and show your family you care.
You can do anything—within reason—that you put your mind to.
God was gracious in allowing me to recover the way I have—but it wasn’t without tears, frustration, and yes… some attitude. (Sorry to my family for all the tears—and thank you for loving me through the pity parties without letting me stay there.)
Nine years ago, I couldn’t imagine the life I’m living now. And I don’t say that for applause. I say it to show two things:
- How good God is, and
- What determination and hard work can do.
There was a time I almost gave up on the idea that my life could look anything like I had dreamed. My brother could list all the things I said I’d never be able to do again. At the top of that list? Working as an acute care nurse.
But I did it-and I’m a Rehab nurse at that. Life comes full circle.
And it was hard—honestly harder than nursing school. I had to relearn things I once knew, all while managing migraines, needing more rest, and dealing with hands that didn’t always do what my brain told them to do.
I didn’t know what I’d be capable of until I tried.
So—don’t give up.
There are many paths in life. Don’t compare yours to anyone else’s.
I have to relearn this lesson often. Maybe you’re 20 and living your dream. Maybe life took a turn and you’re still working toward it. Maybe you married young, or maybe you’re still waiting.
There is no “wrong path” when it comes to your story. You didn’t miss your chance. Your life isn’t ruined because it looks different than you expected.
Your story is your story.
And someone out there needs it.
Rest is necessary—and good.
I’m still not great at this. I tend to go, go, go… until I hit a wall and crash for 24 hours.
But I’m learning.
I’m learning the power of a well-placed “no.”
I’m learning that rest doesn’t always mean sleep.
Sometimes it’s a quiet night watching a movie with Sean.
Sometimes it’s a walk outside in nature.
I may not love that I need more rest now—but I’m learning to respect it.
Sometimes, you have to take life five minutes at a time.
Looking too far ahead can be overwhelming. It can freeze you in place.
I’ve learned to focus on the next five minutes… and then the next.
That’s how I get through hard days.
That’s how I keep moving forward.
Sometimes love doesn’t look the way you expected.
I’m a romantic—but not the “love at first sight” kind.
In my story, love looked like friendship first.
There was a time I couldn’t imagine letting someone into my world—because I didn’t even understand my own brain yet. I was still figuring out who I was… and if I even liked that person.
But there was someone who stayed.
Someone who chose friendship.
Someone who was willing to learn me—my brain, my struggles, my healing.
I still don’t fully understand how he does it—but he does.
And somehow, through friendship, I let him in.
These are just a few of the many things the past nine years have taught me.
Fearless at Heart 