Today I had a realization.
Ada was born on June 15, 2011.
Where was I ten years prior to her birth?
A 20 year old, riding back to summer camp after a week of staff training on the North Shore of Lake Superior. In a patch of road construction, the driver lost control of the 15 passenger van in which we were riding and at 65 mph we headed into the ditch, rolling end over end. Upon arrival at the scene, paramedics presumed that at least half of the passengers would be dead on the scene. There were seven of us in all. Seven young, passionate, adventurous camp counselors. Seven daughters and sons. Seven souls. And all seven lived.
The accident on June 15, 2001 was an event that I will never forget - the sights: wriggling out of the window next to me and falling on the ground in what I thought was the wrong direction. In the crash, I'd squeezed my eyes shut so tight that I lost my contact and was unaware that the van was now upside down on the ground. The sounds - I'd been wearing headphones, listening to a song, "Can't Live a Day" by Avalon, when the wreck occurred. I don't remember the sound of the crash itself, but remember the sounds of our director yelling for us to get out of the van. The smells - gasoline and rubber and damp earth.
This was a moment of my life when I saw it all - though briefly - pass before me, and I thought I was going to die. In the weeks and months that followed I struggled with many of the other survivors of the accident - my friends - as we dealt with a lot of aftermath of being involved in a traumatic accident. I asked God why. Why me? Why did it have to happen? Why did I survive?
As I realized today that Ada came into the world exactly ten years after I went through this experience, I was stunned. And I thank the Lord. Though I don't know exactly why, yet.
I only know that recently I have been working through a question: How long will I live here? The question started off even before Ada was born as a particular struggle of mine as I continue to miss my homeland, and never planned to live for so long away from family and friends back in MN. I knew and know that having a baby with need of consistency in health care and insurance junk would mean that we'd be living longer in this land out west. And some days that can be so hard, particularly as holidays and birthdays and family events come and go. And for the Larsons, this has been a year with a lot of transition, which I have watched from a distance.
So I was driving around one afternoon, pondering this question, when I turned it around. Well, I probably didn't all on my own, since many times I take my time and enjoy living for a bit in my "woe is me" world. But slowly I began to ask myself, "How long will I live here?" Wait, that's the same question. But instead of meaning, "How long will I live in this physical place or with these specific circumstances that I don't like...", it changed to asking, "How long will I live in this place of discontentment?" How long?
How long...
How long, O Lord? It seems that in our present situation, every other day is a hard day, a tough day with Ada. Feedings that do not go well. Weigh-ins that aren't high enough. Inconsolable evening crying. I wish that things were different, and I cry out to God, "Let her eat - MAKE her eat more. It's not enough! She's burning through her calories with this crying - make her stop... help me." I miss out on social events and "mommy groups" and engagements out of our apartment that would only tire Ada and put her in contact with germs. And although we're managing okay and hanging in there, I get tired and frustrated and worried and wonder how long and for what purpose.
A week ago I read a verse in Psalm 138... "The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your love, O Lord, endures forever - do not abandon the works of your hands." I don't get it right now. The purpose of these trials, these tough days, that is.
Ten years ago, I didn't get it, either. What was the purpose of the accident and of my survival? I wrestled with it for months. Ultimately at that point, a different verse became life-giving to me: "However, I consider my life worth nothing to me, if only I may finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me - the task of testifying to the gospel of God's grace." I was confronted with the frailty of life, and the uncertainty of tomorrow, and had to deal with the fact that I was not guaranteed another day, another breath. But the importance came in living each day with purpose, acknowledging the Lord's grace to me in my life. And to have been given a gift in a precious baby daughter on the 10th anniversary of the event that called this to my mind... is pretty awesome.
A bit of an update on Ada's situation: slowly, slowly she gains weight, though now we are supplementing more often with breastmilk infused with delectable formula for extra calories. She continues to be on the diuretic, and a chest x-ray last week and blood work showed that her lungs are not filled with fluid, which is a huge blessing. Her coloring is good, her breathing seems fine, so really the main issue is her weight gain. She is cooing like crazy these days, and I'm convinced that she tries to sing with me. What a doll...
Please continue praying for her heart condition and preparation physically for the surgery this fall, and for Nick and I as we make decisions in feeding, schedules, social engagements, work possibilities, and anything and everything else that all ties in. Grateful for all of your support and love!
