Hit the Ground Running

I didn't. 

Not that you thought I did, but I wanted to clarify that I didn't hit the ground running. I hit the ground, and my legs peaced out of the picture. 

There's been a lot of other figurative running going on though. For context, I was climbing a rock wall and made it to the top pretty quickly - I made it to the floor even faster. I haven't been able to think of a more polite way to say this - but that's all you need to know about my fall. Please don't ask me for more details; there's enough emotional anxiety with that event that I don't want to relive.

The moment I hit the floor other things started running. Pain messages to my brain that I couldn't shut down. I knew I couldn't move until the EMTs got there, but I wanted a distraction from the pain. I asked someone to tell me a story. A nice German lady started asking me questions about home and why I was in Germany. 

Pretty soon, I realized I wanted prayer, so I started to ask someone to pray. As I turned my head, I noticed Hanna was already praying; I asked her to pray aloud. I don't know what she was praying - it could have been that she would still make the train to Freiburg that night - I didn't even care. What meant the most to me is that in this serious moment, Hanna brought the Lord in. Of course he was there at the moment of impact, but Hanna instantly acknowledged his presence and brought him to the center. Hanna is the kind of person I want in any crisis. 

The EMTs got there a lot faster than I expected, and I was so thankful one spoke excellent English. They loaded me into the ambulance to take me to the closest hospital. The nice EMT told me where we were going, but in my pain I heard "Bail" rather than "Basel." It wasn't until post-op I realized I was in Switzerland. I felt really stupid for telling the EMT I'd never been to the biggest city near where I lived - I go to church in Basel. I figured he'd forgive me for the misunderstanding anyway. My experience with that ambulance crew was fantastic. I was praising God there are people like my best friend Kara all over the world. Kara is the kind of person I want to show up when I need an ambulance, and this guy was as kind, calm, and intelligent as Kara (from what I could tell).

The ER doctors and nurses were not all as Kara-like, but they took good care of me. I only have one complaint about that whole ER experience: if you're going to run a pregnancy text no matter what my answer, don't bother asking me if I'm pregnant. At one point they told me we had to wait for the results before I could get a CT scan, and my anger came out for the first time. "I'm not sexually active," I enunciated as clearly as possible, "I promise we can get the scan NOW."

Not surprisingly, they didn't believe me, but my frustration was that they had even bothered to ask if I was pregnant when they first wheeled me into the ER. Just don't ask! However, it didn't seem worth staying focused on since there was plenty of pain demanding my attention. 

Eventually the spine surgeon came, and we shook hands. "I can make no promises of you ever being able to walk again," she told me. 

"Thank you," I replied because good manners are under appreciated in the ER, but then realized thanking someone for telling you you might never walk again seemed weird, "for your honesty," I added hoping that was more reasonable, also hoping it would speed up my journey to the operating table if I complemented her. I just wanted the pain to stop.

At some point, I was asked if there was someone I needed to call. I said no because my housemates knew, and my parents were in America. It didn't seem helpful for them to know right now; they couldn't do anything. I was eventually convinced to surrender my parents' phone number though I was still foggy on the why. Still pre-op, a nurse brought me a phone and told me it was my dad. I wanted to make sure he told my mom not to worry. I knew my God had an amazing plan I couldn't yet see, so I asked my dad to pray God would be glorified even though I couldn't think of how that would happen at the time. I also figured while I had him on the line, I'd ask my parents to pray that I could walk again too. I sortof added that as an afterthought and went back to wondering when they'd finally operate. 

I was so thankful when the kind anesthesiologist finally lowered the mask on my face. I gasped for air when she told me to breathe slowly, but I did my best to take deep breaths and go under more quickly. I was ready for the next step whatever that might be. 

I woke up in a big post-op room and brightened up when Christine and Sandra walked in. They chatted to me for a bit and told me they'd take my stuff home with them. I asked them to leave my epipen because they don't have epipens in Germany. 

"You're in Switzerland," Christine told me. 

Basel. Not Bail. The EMTs surprise made so much sense in that moment. I was too tired to feel too embarrassed, so I went back to sleep and woke up the next time in the room that would be my home for at least the next week. My housemates came to visit me and make me laugh - what jerks - laughter is so painful after back surgery. It's also the best thing for me because I value humor so much. My sense of humor wasn't broken by the fall - it's been running, searching for any way to make someone else smile as my housemates make me smile. 

I'm also finding my housemates aren't the only ones making me laugh. Visiting friends, good-natured nurses, sweet cards from students, and funny Facebook posts or messages all strengthen my few working muscles as they make me laugh. The thousands of other encouraging posts that make me smile are so valuable as well. I haven't responded to very many individually, but please know I'm reading every single comment and message on Facebook. They mean so much to me. 

I still have a long road of recovery ahead and still no guarantee of ever walking again, but there is security in my God who has constantly shown me he is so much stronger than I am. 

God has been faithful to take control and protect me when he draws me out of my comfort zone and deeper into his arms. All the time I've had in bed has given me opportunity to see how this fall is a continuation of the lesson God began to teach me in November 2012.

One fateful Sunday, bad-attitude Bekah told me she hated coming to youth group because she knew everything and thought she should be teaching the middle schoolers. Being a youth leader, I knew students often use hyperbole and that bad-attitude Bekah was not the real Bekah. However, her comment still struck a chord in my heart - was there a chance she looked at my life and thought, "Laura is comfortable and just teaches those younger than her; that's the Christian life"? I was mortified at the possibility and knew in that moment it was time to get uncomfortable in my faith to show Bekah and all my other students that the Christian life has nothing to do with comfort and everything to do with knowing more of Jesus. 

Currently, pain comes and goes, and I haven't felt actually, fully comfortable for over nine days, but I know more of my Savior who gave up the comforts of heaven to experience the most excruciating of pain I order to reconcile me to him and that he might walk with me through the physical agony that still doesn't come close to what he went through for me. I'm closer to Jesus because of this; I take great joy in that. 

I'm also blessed to know that the Lord is using my story to soften the hearts of others. Even before the fall, God was stripping away bad-attitude Bekah to let my beautiful Bekah draw closer to him. I called her last night to confirm she was okay with me finally using her name in describing the conversation I consistently use in describing my call overseas because I see the Lord moving her closer to him. In just a few weeks she'll be getting uncomfortable to serve Jesus in a new way as she travels to India to love on the children at Gan Sabra.

Knowing more of Jesus alone makes all my discomfort worthwhile to me, but I'm so blessed and humbled to hear from students like Tori and Grace who are also going to India and have let the Lord use me in their lives. 

However you have found yourself connected to my story, please let me know how you have learned more about Jesus - those encouraging stories mean so much to me. I love to hear how people are learning more about God and praising him because of the work he's doing with my life. I'd be so blessed by your stories, and even more so if you can include a joke or a pun. I've got to work out my muscles, so try to make me laugh. Just don't make fun of any spelling or grammar errors in this post because I typed the whole thing on my iPhone. Anything else is fair game - particularly fart jokes are good for bedridden patients.