As Christmas approached, I was faced with the reality of just how drastically our family had changed in an instant. One day we were laughing in the backyard, making plans for an upcoming job transfer and the next day we were facing the unimaginable. Doctors gave David a 125% chance of mortality. That’s right, they didn’t even give us the chance of survival- only the probability of his death. The odds were definitely stacked against us.
So, for months, while David was in the Burn Intensive Care Unit in Galveston, Texas, I wondered if our little family would ever be together again. On occasion, I would make the 2 ½ hour drive back to the house to spend time with our two young children, but the visits were extremely painful. The house seemed empty without David. I would sleep on our couch because the thought of being in our bed was more than I could take. I remember going to our bedroom, opening his closet door and taking a few steps inside. I closed the door behind me and I just took in his scent.
On December 25, 1999 the day we all had hoped and prayed for arrived. A couple weeks before, David had been released from the Burn Unit and was transferred to a rehab hospital that was much closer to our home. He set a personal goal to be able to go home and spend Christmas Day with our children. We didn’t tell anyone about this goal, for fear that it wouldn’t be possible. My parents were at our house, watching our children, so we let them in on our plan. As the days drew near, the doctor signed the orders to release David for a few hours. He was unable to sit up in a chair. He couldn’t walk. We couldn’t get him into a car so he was transferred by ambulance, on a stretcher, to our home.
I remember pulling up to our house. The EMT was pushing the stretcher up the sidewalk to the front door, when the door burst open and our kiddos came running out. They were in disbelief. They squealed with delight. They were shocked and so excited to have their Daddy home again. It was truly one of the best Christmas gifts ever!
Once in the house, the EMT helped us get David situated in the hospital bed that we already had set up in our family room, near the Christmas tree and in the middle of all the commotion. We were all giddy, bursting with joy. But as the day went on, it became apparent just how different things were for our family. The kids went about opening packages, trying on new clothes, and playing with new toys, but David couldn’t truly participate in any of the activities. He was just there. In the bed. Watching, while the kids bounced back from their grandparents to me as they needed boxes opened or toys put together. It was as if David was just a bystander. I could see the hurt and desperation in his eyes. We began to wonder what our lives would really look like once he moved back home permanently.
As the day progressed, we scooted the hospital bed into our dining room so David could enjoy the home cooked holiday meal that my mom had prepared for us. I helped him with his food and he used an assistive device that strapped onto his hand that extended a fork so he could try to feed himself a few bites. We tried to make the day as “normal” as possible. We laughed and just enjoyed being together in the home we shared so many memories in. Samantha and Nathan continued to warm up to David as the day went on.
A few hours went by in a blur and before we knew it, the ambulance was back in our driveway and we had to load David back up and get him resettled into his room at the rehab hospital. Life wasn’t the same, but it was still good. It was just very apparent that it would look very different than before David had gotten hurt, but we focused on the baby steps we were able to take in the right direction.
That Christmas I learned a valuable lesson: God’s plan is almost always different than ours. But you know what? It is always better. If I could have had things my way that Christmas, we would have all been home, safe and sound, never knowing the pain of a burn injury. Now, I don’t think that when God was writing the story of our lives, he looked at us and thought “I will bring them to tragedy, because that’s my perfect plan for them.” Rather, I believe that because of sin, tragedy exists, and yet God in his goodness redeems the tragedy and rewrites our stories into something beautiful.
So while this Christmas wasn’t the one I would have planned, it was sweeter, richer, and deeper than I could have imagined. Our family is what it is today because of the giants we’ve faced together. And I couldn’t have written a better story if I tried.
What parts of your story do you need to trust God with today?
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