My brother -- my only sibling -- was in a racing accident the morning of February 13. I'll spare the details, but his car caught fire during a race, and he suffered life-threatening 1st-3rd degree burns on 7% of his body and face. He was airlifted to a world-class burn unit in TX, near where he was racing at the time. Our family was immediately plunged into crisis mode, where we still remain.
It's been a family cooperative, this getting through crisis. My brother is healing better than we might have expected and we await word on whether he will need surgery. We are so grateful.
Through all of this, however, and through my own Parkinson's Disease made worse by recent stress, I am left to ponder something: How are we validated for our struggles? When do we get to know it was, indeed, worth it? Where's the glimmer of meaning that will carry us through one more day? Am I the only one who ponders such things?
I'm not asking why (at least not today!). I'm not expressing anger. I'm not questioning God. I'm just asking for our experiences -- mine and my brother's, and yours -- to have meaning. Tangible, measurable, quantitative meaning that leaves us feeling glad to have been a part of it, in spite of the pain.
If I can share my experience with someone and help them through their own pain, that's meaningful. If I am changed into a better or more godly person through my pain, that's meaningful. If God re-purposes me for something I'm now uniquely qualified to do, that's meaningful.
Finding meaning in the storm is the only way I have found to survive it. God forbid I should come through the storm, and emerge as exactly the same person who went into it. I want to come out wiser, or stronger, or better, or happier. I cannot bear coming out just the same.
God grant us -- you and me, Stephen, and anyone else fighting your way through your own storm -- God grant us meaning we can measure, change we can see, and hope for tomorrow.
As I look through Facebook, I try to pull myself out of my own little world long enough to see what others are going through; I try to keep from focusing on just my own family's trauma. And then I see it -- pain and suffering. So many of my friends are in crisis. My family is not alone, we are not the only ones fighting, we are not the only ones in quiet pain. There's an army of us marching through the storm. May we march together, not in solitude. May we find meaning together.
So, Army, let's fight, fight, fight! Let's determine to be hopeful. Let's emerge better on the other side because of the pain. And let's encourage each other as we walk in step together in this new day.
May God bless us all today. Amen.To help defray my brother's medical costs go to:
www.gofundme.com/WRLRacerReliefFund
#RaceDad
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