My husband and I have a family motto. "Stay Addicted to Hope".
We created this motto about nine years ago and it has stayed in our hearts since.
On January 2, 2017, we got the dreaded call about the 'button's" accident.
Initially, we were told he may not survive, there is spinal cord damage, he is a quad and it will be months of repair.
Hours later we started the recovery process.
And as the days progressed, there was even more Hope. He could breath on his own, he could move his shoulders, the little boy involved, was going to make it and the "button" would have the life he was intended to live. Not the life he wanted, the life he was intended to live.
And as quickly as we felt progress, and were hopeful, our hopes were dashed.
Seven days into the recovery process, we were kept out.
Funny thing about the health care system, they will take your health insurance funds from your adult child that the parent pays provides but they can withhold intel if the child says. Bull---.
Anyway, for months, we knew very little out the "button." We learned what we could from health insurance statements and there was a victim's right advocate and public records, but literally, we were in the dark. And honestly, that is why I didn't write about him. I didn't even know where he was.
Years ago when the button was in addictive addiction, my daughter and I went to church.
The preacher looked at me the ENTIRE service. It was a message from God. The message was this, Sunflowers. Sunflowers come in a thick, hard casing. The seed is inside that thick, hard casing. You put in the ground, where it is dark. Water penetrates through and softens the thick, hard casing and opens. Then, the seed is able to grow, push through the dark soil and see the sun. And it grows. The stalk is thick and hard but it needs to be to support the head, filled with new seeds. The sermon's lesson, you have to be broken before you can blossom.
As the preacher spoke, my young daughter whispered to me, "He is talking to us".
We left church, went to the Dollar General and purchased every sunflower seed we could find.
A few weeks later, a lady walked by my house and said, "Oh I love your sunflowers. I guess you are trying to save the bees."
"Hell no, I am trying to save myself."
And my love for sunflowers began. You have to be broken before you can blossom and it takes awhile.
My husband and I never gave up Hope for our "button." It dwindled, but it was still there.
Our "button" was filled with anger and rage for the new life he was intended to live. Filled. Epic anger. I get it. 23 physical male, gets things straightened out, working his way, bang. All changes. Epic anger and hostile behavior. Not recipe for relationship success.
I have no idea what it is like to look at legs you cannot use.
Fast forward to March, a phone call and a conversation. A window was opened, a tiny bit but enough to let some air in. Progress and hope.
A few weeks ago, the "Button" came to visit. Actions speak louder than words.
It was a great visit. A great visit. A huge step. Hope.
He finally said these words, "I had to make peace with the life I was intended to live."
And he admitted, "The disappointment will never leave my heart. ever. But I have great memories and experiences that will pull me through."
Disclaimer:
*I wrote the above portion of this blog two weeks ago and didn't finish. I am not sure why.
He lives independently, he drives and he has a job he loves. None of these things I ever thought would happen.
Over the last couple days, we got another dose of "the life you are intended to live."
Swallowing this message is tough and sometimes you gag on it or even puke in your mouth but you swallow it. It doesn't always taste good, but you swallow it. Sometimes you want more, like winning the lottery, but very rarely does this statement apply to moments of greatness.
And somehow during dark moments, opportunities present themselves that you never saw coming.
Yesterday, I had a pity party in honor of somebody else. Nobody came except for three smelly teenagers who ate me out of house and home, then partially cleaned up the kitchen and then left. A sweet girl came too who laughed at me being in bed at 9pm on a Saturday night. Nothing changed.
Today is a new day.
I was scrolling through my phone for a picture, and I found this one. The most broken my family ever was, January 2, 2017. Hope Floats. I did not think I would ever see my oldest son again and I certainly never thought I would have this picture. But we do.
I think about the life I thought I was going to live versus the life I have now.Hope Floats.
