Toddler

We got some very exciting news today about Amanda. I believe I mentioned that she had been transferred to a rehabilitation facility. There have been several problems, including therapists that had no idea how to work with her because of her rare and very specific injuries and nurses trying to inject her with insulin for her diabetes, which she doesn't have. Despite all this, she has been doing physical therapy and can scoot from her bed across a board and into a wheelchair. It's quite impressive to watch and even more impressive when I think back to the limp, frail girl on a respirator in a drug-induced coma. But, as yet, she has been unable to put any weight on her legs, which is very discouraging and difficult for her. There is a natural tendency, whilst scooting, to use your legs to help. Her pelvis, however, hasn't been healed enough for her to use her legs at all.

April 20 was 3 months since the accident. And today, she was cleared by the Orthopaedic doctors to be fully weight-bearing with no limitations. She can begin to learn to walk again.

I'm reminded of a line from the epic, "The Thorn Birds". A couple of star-crossed lovers who sneak away, aided by helpful friends, for a weeklong tryst in their 20's encounter each other again some 20 years later, neither having married after their week together, both clinging to the love they share for each other. That night, the man sneaks into the woman's bed and the scene shows them talking about that week so long ago.

"I never thought I'd see you again," Meggie tells Ralph. "And here you are again . . . so soon!"

Time certainly is relative. When you expect to NEVER have something, 20 years doesn't seem too long to wait. When you expect it to take a year to begin to walk, three months seems like a drop in the bucket. While it's been an unbelievable difficult and painful, stressful and scary three months, my niece is alive. She has no brain damage. Her internal injuries are all healing well. She's strong, healthy, and will walk again.

As I stood over her one day last week, watching her visit with Grandma and thinking about how animated her conversation is, I was overwhelmed with thankfulness. Tears sprang to my eyes and I walked over and kissed her. She's a miracle, many times over, and I don't want to forget that. I don't want to take what God did for us for granted - ever.

I guess tomorrow she'll begin to try and walk. She asked her daddy this morning while I was in the room and before she left for her doctor's appointment if he'd be there in the morning in case she was cleared to begin weight-bearing so he could help her try and stand for the first time.

"Of course I'll be here, honey," he responded. He's been there for everything else, as has my sister. And so has Our Lord, right beside her every uncomfortable or painful minute, through all the ups and downs, carrying her when she couldn't deal with things herself and whispering words of encouragement in her ears and to my sister over the many frustrating times in the last 3 months.

And now, He'll stand back and call to her as a young father beckons to his child to take those first, halting steps. He'll be right next to her earthly father, holding out his arms of protection and love . . .

As she learns to walk once again.