My faith is important to me. I don't always get it right, but as a Schwalm, I'm a fighter and determined to "win".
Can one "win" at faith?
The very true and appropriate answer is "Absolutely Not".
But. Ask a Schwalm, and you'll get varying degrees of the answer, "HECK, YES!"
(wanna see my trophies?)
I know that when things go awry in my relationship with God, that the issue or interference is always on my end. God, as an Omnipotent Being, neither struggles nor changes. So when challenges arise and I don't feel God or don't see God or really just feel like I'm 12 inches deep in mud and no one cares, I look at my faith and feel that I am failing. And yet, it's precisely during these times when God has been closest to me, loving me, holding me...protecting me.
It's no secret that I struggle with a very deep-rooted anxiety. Over the past year, it has gotten much worse. Much, much worse. It has become my constant companion and has morphed into agoraphobia, OCD tendencies and full-blown depression. It has been a dark time. I worry about everything. I worry about the children sniffling. I get panic attacks when I even think of the flu or see someone's sick child on social media. I take walks around the perimeter of our yard because it is so painful for me to leave our home. Initially, I thought that this was a lack of faith on my part. Didn't I trust that God would take care of us? Didn't I believe that He would carry me through anything? Loving and trusting God would mean that I would have no anxiety of any sort?
Well, that's the goal.
But, in reality, we all fall short. Everyone has worries. Everyone struggles. Some are able to rebound a little more quickly than others. In my own life, my rebound is more of a "let the basketball fall to the ground and roll around a little bit until it comes to a complete stop and the wind stops blowing and everyone has left the court and THEN I'll go get it. Carefully."
REBOUND THAT BASKETBALL!
REEEEEE-BOUNNNNNND
(GO SPX EAGLES!)
Ok.
Moving on.
So my slow rebounding was causing me to actually have anxiety ABOUT my anxiety...because I was letting God down in some way shape or form through my lack of faith.
But, as I sit here and type this, tears are falling because this is a lie I have told myself for too long.
God knows. God sees me. God sees my struggles. He sees my hand falter as I reach for the front door handle. He sees my long, slow walks around the yard as I fight myself for wanting to retreat inside. He sees me teach my children about His Love and MERCY. He is present when I panic. He knows.
God became Man.
Jesus FELT.
God has been with us through many dark times before. Occasionally, other people have to point out to me where His Hand was in certain situations. But it is not difficult for me to see in hindsight.
In HINDSIGHT.
When the darkness is over.
When the light has returned.
When the adrenaline has stopped pumping.
In the middle of the dark, I fumble. I cry. I see, hear, and know nothing.
Until this past weekend.
Saturday was shaping up to be a normal day for our family. Matt was home and we had plans to organize our disaster of a house and clean it top to bottom. I had had a wicked case of mastitis that took nearly two weeks to clear up, the girls' room ceiling was leaking because our roof had broken, we had moved around beds and the whole house was in quite a state since I hadn't been at peak operation. I was really eager to get cleaning with Matt and put things back in their places. My parents were due to come in on Monday, to celebrate Christmas and visit for a while. I was excited since we hadn't seen them since September. However, Lucy started baby food recently and had developed some constipation. On Saturday morning, she was struggling very badly. I called the doctor on-call and he asked that I bring her in really quick to the office. I knew it would be a quick visit, that he would dispense some helpful hints, maybe a relief med for her, and definitely some reassurance for me. I told Matt I would be right back. He offered to help by driving me and Lucy, since Lucy screams the second she gets in a car seat. I said "no" initially, but then thanked him for his offer and said, "Yes! That would be really helpful." We asked Sarah and Joseph, our certified babysitters, to hold down the fort for just a bit while we ran out. We told them they could play video games and we would start chores when we returned. Everyone cheered and we left immediately. On our way to the office, Matt mentioned that he had forgotten to give Sarah the phone from his office and that the ringer was probably on silent. I said we would just be gone a little while and I was certain that the kids would be fine. If she needed the phone she would find it.
The doctor dispensed everything I anticipated and we were on our way home just a short while later. Matt and I were talking about what room we were going to start with when we got home, a push-up challenge that he and my brothers are a part of, and when we would get to Kroger and pick up some meds for Lucy.
I was in the back seat with Lucy, who was remarkably peaceful on this trip.
We came to a stoplight at 34 Mile Road and Van Dyke.
We stopped.
The Dodge Ram, carrying scaffolding and traveling 55mph behind us, did not.
We didn't hear brakes at all.
There was the sound of metal crushing, excruciating pain, the car moving and spinning and then silence.
And then noise. Lots of noise.
It was me.
I was screaming, "My baby! My baby!"
I couldn't move. My legs were stuck in between the bench and the seat in front of me. Lucy was bawling. There was glass everywhere. Matt had gotten out and was somehow talking to me from behind. I was screaming at OnStar about Lucy. They dispatched the emergency vehicles. I leaned over and unbuckled her as Matt lifted her out of her car seat. We were in the middle of an intersection. I worried about oncoming traffic. I worried about getting hit from another direction. My door was stuck. I couldn't get out. Someone lifted Lucy's seat and I was able to turn my legs enough to climb out her door. Someone helped me out. It started snowing as we stood in the middle of the road. Lucy stopped crying the minute I took her back from Matt. Someone helped stop traffic so we could get to the side of the road. I was bleeding and in pain, but had no idea where anything was coming from. I only cared about Lucy. A family had stopped their car immediately and let me climb in to nurse the baby and warm up while we waited for the ambulance. I sat in a complete stranger's car. Lucy nursed while I looked her over. She looked completely fine, save for two large burn marks on either side of her neck from the car seat straps. Matt looked fine too, as he walked around outside the car, talking to people that were there to help. I felt woozy and confused and TERRIFIED. I saw Lucy's car seat. It was broken.
Matt came to me and said that the man who hit us said that he was looking down and didn't even see us or the light.
The ambulance arrived and drove us to the hospital, where I struggled with neck pain, vision changes, back pain, hip dislocation and some ache on my arm that I couldn't identify.
All tests came back normal. No broken bones. The baby was fine. Matt was fine. I was fine.
I believe the paramedic said something about how I was "gonna hurt like hell for a while", but we were alive.
Somewhere in this timeframe, I had made a few phone calls to have our sweet neighbor Wendy go tell the kids we were ok, Grandma Lois and Grandpa Dale to go sit with them until we returned from the hospital, Kelly to see if we could have a new car seat for Lucy and a ride home from the hospital, and my parents to have them come as soon as possible.
It was strange going home. Jay and Molly came to pick us up. Lucy was unusually quiet and well-behaved. Jay kept chatting and kept our minds busy. I couldn't stop thinking about how all three of us were alive. How I knew God was there. I felt Him. I knew He saved us. He was with us. In the middle of the dark, I felt Him.
At home, Lois and Dale were rocks for us. Everything was normal. The house was standing, dinner was in the oven, the kids were bickering as usual and avoiding getting the table set. How was this all possible? How did this happen? Lois allowed me to fall apart. She held me as I lost my mind. Dale made us laugh. They brought us peace and normalcy. God was with us.
My parents texted. They were coming first thing in the morning. God was with us.
Family text messages started pouring in as the news spread. We had support. God was with us.
Mike and Amanda ordered the Cadillac of all new cars seats for Lucy and had it shipped immediately. They texted so often that I wasn't alone with any dark thoughts.
God was with us.
