Take 10 Minutes — Are you experiencing a shadow of darkness from a tough or heartbreaking situation? What could possibly be good in such a hard place? Carla’s Column ministered to me immensely through this post, and I know you will be too. Please read and share with others to be encouraged today.
Is being different good? Is being different fun?
Is being different easy?
These are questions I asked the group of 2nd graders whom I shared my story with yesterday.
To answer the question, we must consider what is meant by “different.” We go through phases when we strive to fit in, and then periods when we pursue establishing our authentic self. Once again, I might be putting a little tune in your head. The memory of watching Sesame Street when my oldest child was a toddler comes to mind. Ernie would sing, “one of these things is not like the other, one of these things just doesn’t belong.”
It seems somewhere along the way of identifying different “things” we get some type of mindset that it applies to people too, or to ourselves specifically. Scripture tells us we are uniquely made, Ephesians 2:10 (NIV), “For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Meaning something made by hand is not an assembly line, cookie cutter product. No, we are all unique and special individuals. Which means we were meant to be different.
Different can seem appealing when we’re talking about creating a new style or breaking out with an original talent. Who doesn’t want to be set apart when it results in affirmation and admiration? However, different doesn’t seem so appealing when it involves disfigurement and defects.
This summer my family and I finally watched Bethany Hamilton’s story, Soul Surfer. I tried to be discrete in my sobbing watching the scenes as they rushed her to the emergency department, her Mom in the following car asking the Lord to please not let her die, medical professionals swarming around her as her parents were pushed to the side. Then she went home. Same home, not the same life. The challenges lay before her, like Bethany lying in her bed looking at her Barbie Doll questioning her own beauty and love in her future, and shopping at the grocery hearing a little girl ask, “Mama, what happened to her arm?” Such an innocent question, but so hurtful.
But you know Bethany’s story, because hello, they made a movie about it! And if you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it, although you’ll probably need a box of tissue, especially if you’ve experienced personal tragedy yourself. So we know that Bethany has the most inspiring ending. She figured out how to return to surfing as the incredible athlete she had within her.
Now, let’s consider another athlete who amazed us last season on ABC's Dancing with the Stars. I have to say, I don’t avidly watch the show, but I did catch a couple of Amy Purdy’s dance routines. I was impressed by her dancing ability, and then to watch intently enough to see she had prosthetics was captivating! Talk about an overcomer!
I touched on these brave women’s stories when sharing my own with the 2nd graders. And they absorbed the message sensitively and respectfully. But when I put up Elsa’s picture, they were engrossed! Why Elsa? Because Disney gave us a story of a girl who was different and felt defective because of it, and children know and understand her character.
Elsa had a gift, but it took a challenge to discover it. Her ability to thaw was suppressed by her fear to love. Once she learned it, what made her different was no longer a curse but completely magical. Kids get that.
Bethany Hamilton was an amazing surfer, but now she's even more, she's inspiring. She faced the possibility that she may never be able to get up on a board again, but she still tried. Now she’s touched countless lives across the world with her courageous story.
Amy Purdy, on top of being a three-time world cup gold medalist, is a dancer, model, speaker, spokesperson for the National Meningitis Association, and a co-founder of a company who helps adaptive athletes get involved in action sports.
So the questions remain…
Is being different good? No, it’s not always good.
Is being different fun? No, it’s not always fun.
Is being different easy? No, it’s not EVER easy.
But I am encouraged by these stories because what could have caused the story to end actually was what spurred the next chapter.
Personally, I could have never imagined the Lord using my most heart wrenching experiences to touch others. The countless times I laid in bed asking, “Why didn’t I die too?” The many incidences I’ve wanted to crawl in a hole when people stare, or much more, when they point. The memories. The fear. The disappointment. The heartache. The loss. It’s been a journey. Honestly, there are times I still cry. One moment. One decision, at such a young age, changed absolutely everything.
In time, I began to see all the goodness which came from it. I just had to wait. Because only the Lord could have written a story like this.
No, it wasn’t good. No, it wasn’t fun. No, it wasn’t easy. But through the difficulty, I've had the chance to see God’s hand at work in my life. He didn’t intend this tragedy to happen, but He is the Author and Finisher of our faith (Hebrews 12:2 NKJV), which means He gets the final say. He’s writing the scenes and I’m grateful to be in His storyline.
Yesterday, I looked at about seventy-five 2nd grade faces and shared my story. They learned about rules to keep them safe, they learned about burn injury, they learned about accepting others as unique and special individuals, they learned not to laugh at or make fun of other people, and I hope they learned sometimes in life, we must simply wait. Because God can use what's different. He loves what's not like the other. Just wait… He'll show you.
Psalm 27:14 NIV
Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.
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A few months ago I received a message from a reader asking me to write about a subject I’ve had some experience; pain. I’m deeply touched by messages I receive from readers, and I began seeking the Lord to direct my heart to share what would minister to hearts regarding this subject. Can you recall your first memories of pain? My earliest memory was when I was five years old. After a family dinner, several of us decided to walk down to the bridge. My Grandma lived across the driveway from us and we had stopped at her pear tree before beginning our stroll. I must have piddled around, as was very typical for me, because everyone had started off out of the driveway. I ran to catch up, slid on the gravel and cut a gash in my right knee. The beautiful sunny afternoon ended with a trip to the emergency room and my very first set of stitches. I was terrified and experiencing the worst pain in my life. I knew the scar it left would be permanent, as would be the memories.
As you can imagine, that experience wasn’t enough to prepare me for the tragedy to come on April 27, 1988. I remember the sting in my eyes from the dust as my brother and I traveled on our motorcycle behind the little red truck that sunny spring day. I remember the blur in the flame as I lay in that fiery ditch. I remember my face feeling so hot as I was grabbed underneath the arms and drug out of that blaze. I remember that terrifying helicopter ride, telling my Mom I wanted to go home, thinking that if I could just go home it would all be okay. These were my first encounters with a pain that, although I experienced, I still cannot fully comprehend.
I spent many years trying to understand something senseless. How could I possibly make sense of an accident? It was an accident. But how difficult it was to let go of the desire for answers. The question I kept asking was “why?” I had to stop thinking about the “what ifs.” While many different small things could have prevented our accident, nothing was going to change it. My life was changed forever.
But you know this story. You know how this story ends; with a little girl who overcame the odds and lived and walked again. This story ends with a sweet boy who fell in love with a girl for who she was instead of seeing the scars she bore. This story ends with a marriage and four precious babies. This story has what I would consider, the perfect ending.
It’s much more pleasant to focus on the end. It makes me happy. But surprisingly, so does every detail in between. And that in between time was filled with pain, with years and years of pain.
There was the physical pain. The bandages being ripped off. The scar tissue tearing. The surgeries. The procedures. The tests. Then there was the emotional pain. The loss of my brother. The loss of my carelessness. The loss of my mobility, my hair, my skin, my body as I’d known it. How I would have loved to have seen that small scar from the fall on the gravel road. I searched for it, but there was no trace. Only burns. Only smelly ugly mushy burns.
Words cannot describe the range and depth of pain. There are years and years I would never want to revisit, but make me happy. “How?” you may ask. Because I overcame.
My Aunt Donna gave me a t-shirt when I was in the hospital that said, “Tough Cookies Don’t Crumble.” She explained the shirt to me, but at seven years old, I didn’t completely understand it. All I knew was that she thought I was tough, but I didn’t get what that really had to do with cookies.
Well, that right there is what makes me happy when I think about all the pain. I was a tough cookie, and I didn’t crumble. Even years later, when I was still asking God, “Why didn’t I die too?” He was carrying me, and I didn’t crumble. I overcame.
Pain teaches us a lot about ourselves and more about our God. And I know in the darkest moments, in the hardest years, in the scariest times, my God was there. I was never alone.
Many people are hesitant to ask me what happened. They want to know, but they don’t want to hurt me. Usually it is phrased like this, “So what happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” And I don’t mind, because I overcame.
The Word tells us in Revelation 12:11 “They triumphed over him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” I recommend reading the verse in its context, but take this to heart, we overcome by the victory Christ provided to us from His sacrifice on the cross and by our testimony, which is why I absolutely love to share with others what happened to me, because although it’s the most physically and emotionally painful story, it’s my testimony and I’m so grateful to be alive to share it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SLm5NIgWB6A
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