Sound of Surviving Blog

Yesterday afternoon, as I walked into my neurologist’s office, I was thrown back 16 years. It’s not the same neurologist I had back then, but hospitals have a way of doing that to me now, giving me flashbacks. As I thought of myself all those years ago, so unsure of what was happening around me, so young and battered and tired, I realized how far I’ve come.

I can still remember being so scared of my future then, so unsure how God was possibly going to use any of this mess for my good. At that point, I was relearning how to walk, and how to navigate life with the use of only one hand, and attempting to manage the medications I was on to be able to stay awake enough to make it through my therapies each day. As much as I wanted them to, and was determined that they would, I didn’t see how any of the things I dreamed about doing could ever happen. I’d never be able to go to college or get a job or be independent.

I still remember one night, I was so exasperated by everything and broke down crying. One of my nurses, then, a sweet lady named Rita Mary, came over to me and talked with me. She must have known something I didn’t back then, because as she talked to me, she spoke words that have been my encouragement since, “Oh sweetheart, you are going to get stronger, and you’re going to go so far. You’re going to graduate college and do amazing things in your life; I am sure of it.”  

Not that I had never heard people tell me those things before that, but that night, her words made me think, for the first time since my brain surgery and stroke, that maybe I would be okay after all.

And as I walked into that doctor’s office yesterday, I realized something that God has been trying to get through to me ever since that day: He never leaves us as He found us. There’s a quote I heard the other day by Elisabeth Elliot, who states, “Of one thing I am perfectly sure: God’s story never ends with ashes”. You see, we don’t often realize this while we’re fighting our battles, just struggling each day to survive, but God is always working everything out for our good. I still constantly struggle with wondering what God is doing with my life, but when I look back and am reminded of just how far God has brought me, I can see clearly that he is indeed making something beautiful out of my ashes, just as Isaiah 61:3 promises, “God will provide for those who grieve in Zion— to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor.”

Hold on just a little longer. Because one day, we will be able to look down into the valley, from the mountaintops, and say, “Huh, I remember when I couldn’t even imagine how or if  I’d ever make it here. We often forget that our God is the creator of the entire universe. He did all that from scratch. Surely, he can orchestrate a masterpiece from our ashes.