Fifty Years of Gratitude
Today’s blog is written by my dear friend, Ronda Sturgill, who has wheeled along on her faithful journey. I’ve been blessed to walk alongside her wheelchair, sharing laughter and tears and holy moments. May you be encouraged by her words of great encouragement…
Today is the 50th anniversary of my 1972 horseback riding accident, often called an ‘unintentional dismount’ in the equestrian world. As I look back and reflect on the past 50 years, my heart is overwhelmed by one emotion: GRATITUDE.
The night of my accident when I finally woke up from an emergency spinal decompression surgery, the realization of the life-changing impacts suddenly thrust upon me catapulted me into a deep depression. I became unresponsive. All I wanted to do was die. I prayed to die. I tried to die. When a nurse came in to check on me in the middle of the night, she noticed my mental decline. Right then and there she basically told me to snap out of it, that I had a lot to live for…..if I chose to do so. She reminded me I had a family who loved me and friends who supported me. But ultimately, the choice of how I responded to this unfortunate incident was mine and mine alone. I was 18 years old and had the rest of my life before me.
I’m not a real smart person, but I figured out very quickly that no matter how angry, resentful or depressed I became, it wasn’t going to change my situation. I was never going to walk again. So why not use what little energy I had remaining to put my life back together and make the most of what I COULD do, instead of focusing all my energy on what I couldn’t do? What did I have to lose?
I threw myself wholeheartedly into my rehabilitation, learning once again how to dress and care for myself. I spent 7 months in stamina and strength training so I would be able to push myself around all day long. Finally, ‘graduation day’ arrived, and I went home to the split-level house I had lived in since I was 3 years old. My mom made a makeshift bedroom for me out of my dad’s home office.
Immediately, my dad bought me a car with hand controls and insisted I learn how to drive. Not only did I have to learn how to drive again, but I also had to learn how to get myself and my wheelchair in and out of the car. Eager for my independence, I quickly learned these skills.
We lived near the beautiful Brandywine Valley in Pennsylvania. The rolling countryside was home to several state parks. I would spend hours just driving around the valley, lost in my thoughts about my new life. One day, I stopped at one of the parks. The parking spot I chose was within pushing distance of a 3-foot high old stone wall. There was an opening in the wall that allowed passage to the other side, which overlooked hills outlined by the trees in the distance. I transferred myself out of my car, pushed through the opening in the wall, lifted myself out of my wheelchair and sat on the ground, taking in all of the beauty which surrounded me. One deep breath after another, I contemplated my life as a person with a disability. What did the future hold for me? How was I going to do this? I was scared. Uncertainty began to overtake me and yet, something inside me told me I was going to be ok.
One year ago, I had the opportunity to go back to this park and revisit the same wall where I spent that contemplative afternoon. If only I knew. If only I knew then that I would come back to this same place, 49 years later, so grateful and thankful for the life God has allowed me to live. From participating in competitive wheelchair sports, to graduating from college, becoming a wife and a mom, co-serving 28 years in the Air Force and living all over the United States. And most importantly, surrounding myself with loving family and life-long friends. I would not have believed it if you told me.
“ For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand: It is I who say to you, “Fear not. I am the one who helps you.” (Isaiah 41:13)
The list of things I cannot do and cannot have is long. For the past 50 years, my physical world has been limited to level concrete surfaces, ramps, and electrical lifts. But the list of times I have held out my right hand in moments of weakness and despair, only to be held and helped by God is far longer. He has been a constant presence in my life, assuring me in great and holy mysteries, I am His beloved. He watches over my comings and goings, He directs my path. He brightens up my world with good things, and always walks with me through the bad. He’s given me so much more than I ever deserve or expected.
Life is hard, but God is good. His hand is always reaching out, ready to grab mine. As I enter each new day, I pray I would continue to be aware of my need, and awake to his grace. Thank you, Heavenly Father, for the past 50 years.