THAT TIME I WRESTLED WITH GOD

         

          This morning I was reminded of a time when I wrestled with God.  It was as real a battle as the one described in Genesis 32 between Jacob and God, and it left me changed.  This occurred a few short years ago after a devastating moment in the life of our family. 

 My husband Steve, fell about 40 feet from the steep rooftop of our tall, Victorian house, and though he was  battered and broken, he survived. That event has become a dividing line for everything that happens in our family.  That happened before the accident, or that happened after the accident.  I did not wrestle with God at that moment, it took a few more days, and a few more blows before I took a swing at God.
          It was not as if I thought God had abandoned us, far from it.  I remember rushing outside after the horrific clatter of ladders falling, to find Steve lying in the yard in great pain and confusion. Despite the obvious severity of his injuries, I was immediately perplexed and assured of God's intervention by two curious facts. The first inexplicable element was the fact that Steve was talking and moving, even his feet.  When the full realization of his impossible fall hit me, I was dumbfounded. How could he be conscious? How could his spine not be severed? In a split second I knew that God was at work.  The other perplexing truth was the location of his landing.  How did he get so far from the house? How did he avoid all the brick sidewalks and stone columns that surround the house? I do not claim to be an expert in physics, but I could look at the steep pitch of the roof and see that the angle of his fall made no sense.  He landed on a patch of grass far removed from the deadly brick and stone. I kept looking at the roof as we waited for the ambulance, shaking my head in bafflement.  I felt like Mr. Banks in Mary Poppins looking into his fireplace as he tried to make sense of the torn letter that he had destroyed.

          The weeks of life at the hospital Intensive Care Unit began, and not a day, or even an hour went by that God did not show himself.  Steve had a broken back, but it was not severed, so he would not be paralyzed. He had a Traumatic Brain Injury but it would be months before we would know the extent of it. All around me were church members and friends who encouraged, prayed and  loved our family in many tangible ways.  It is humiliating to think that in the middle of all of this I would pick a fight with God.

            Some scary developments arose.  Several blood clots were discovered in his Carotid artery and another that leads to the brain.  A hidden wound under his beard became infected with Staph. We waited to hear from the lab whether or not the infection was MRSA, the most likely to be deadly, especially since the infection had traveled from his tracheae to his lungs.

His life seemed to be dependent on a multitude of wires, tubes and moniters that just looked like spaghetti to me! The dreaded report came back from the lab that his Staph was definitely MRSA.  I kept reminding myself that his recovery was not one bit more difficult for God today than it had been yesterday.  But I had to remind myself  of that over and over and over.
          I awoke early the next morning preparing for my daily trek to the ICU, when I got a phone call that pushed me over the edge.  My mother had a heart attack.  She and my father (and one sister) were in Hong Kong at the time.  Everything in me screamed that I had to go be with her!  What if I would never see her again in this life? Of course...I couldn't go.  I needed to be in Columbia with Steve.  It was just too much to bear!  I got in my car to drive to the hospital and I railed at God! Really, God?  You didn't think I had enough on my plate? This is too much!  My hands may have been on the wheel, but God knew I was shaking a fist in his face. I was mad! Wrestling with God took the form of screaming out his injustices and announcing to him that I was not going to take it anymore.  Somehow I sensed God asking me if I really wanted to take over these situations.  Did I really believe I knew best? Did I want to be God? That stopped me.  It literally stopped me.  I pulled over and wept.  I told God I really didn't want his job.  What have I ever done without him that was worth anything?  I know the answer to that question. Nothing! Ever! Not one thing!  
          The circumstances did not change in that moment, but my heart did.  The remainder of my drive to the hospital God was cradling me in his arms.  Thankfully, he won our little Wrestlmania match, but he gave me the prize.  He is generous like that.
         I don't like to leave you hanging, so let me tell you that My Mom will soon have her 92 birthday.

She and my Dad still have sharp minds and know how to encourage those around them.  Steve has been blessed to experience so much life in these last 6 years.  He has seen both sons married, walked our youngest daughter down the aisle and danced with her at her wedding, he has seen the birth of three grandchildren, and has been able to work some.  He walks with a cane (when he remembers it).