Total Loss

Total loss…boy, did those words hit me hard today when I got the paperwork and the settlement for my car. There is something that is so final in those two words, something that is so hopeless. After all I’ve been through these past twenty days, all the pain, the helplessness, the sleepless nights when I just couldn’t find anyway to be comfortable, the worry about how all these mounting bills will get paid- nothing has gotten to me like those two little words. Total loss.

I really liked that car a lot, and had only had it for a few months. It was a real treat to have something that new with so many technical features on it. And boy, was I thankful for all those airbags and an insistent seat belt (which have left their imprint all over my body), which kept me alive that day. But it’s true, and you would just have to see it to believe it, the car really was a complete and total loss. I do not disagree.

For something to be a total loss means that there is no repairing it; it is too far gone for repair to even be a consideration. Something so traumatic has occurred that nullifies the very purpose of the vehicle.

Thankfully, though, those words only refer to my car, and not my life. When I woke up after the car accident, it took awhile for me to realize that I wasn’t dreaming. That something bad really had happened to me. For several hours, people who introduced themselves as doctors or surgeons surrounded my bed and went through a litany of the parts of my body that were either broken or suspected broken. But you know, by morning, no one could find those broken bones. There were no dramatic moments when I was rushed to the operating room. Just sympathetic glances and pats on the arm from physicians who probably suspected it would take a long time for stuff to stop hurting. And they were right.

But no, this girl’s life was not a total loss. It wasn’t before the accident, and it isn’t now. Even though I have felt very helpless and useless sometimes over the course of my recovery, I have appreciated the time of rest. My mom has made me tea, has helped me dress and bought clothes that would be comfortable for my swollen and bruised body, she has been my chauffeur- oh, she has done more than I could ever have asked of her. I have a wonderful group of coworkers who have taken on so many extra responsibilities at work so that my mind can rest from the head injury. I have precious friends who have loaded my mailbox with cards, come by to visit, tolerated my inability to respond to texts or voice mails (mainly because I forget almost immediately- darn concussion!) all in a highly successful attempt to make me feel remembered and to cheer my spirits.

I am blessed despite it all. Or perhaps I am blessed because of it all. Whatever the perspective, my purpose remains. Though I am really looking forward to getting back to work, right now, I know that my purpose has become resting, healing, and abiding more and more in Christ. There is a reason I woke up on this side of eternity on that Sunday afternoon, and while I may never know all the reasons why, I know that none of those reasons include hopelessness and loss of purpose. Yes, He has a plan for me, and until He shows me the steps to take, I intend to live every moment I have for His glory .