The Final Countdown

I can hardly believe that in exactly one month, 30 days, I will be jet-setting across the Atlantic to my new home in Madrid, Spain.  This doesn't seem real!  Given everything that's been going on in my life with Joseph's accident, quitting my job, and finishing up my TEFL Certification I have barely had time to breathe, let alone try to get ready for this adventure.  There are so many unknowns in my life right now, but what I do know is that I am officially (literally bought my ticket 10 minutes ago) going to Spain.  By myself.  For 10 months.  Woof.

Three weeks ago my world got turned upside down.  And while part of me feels selfish saying that because I know so many dear friends who have gone through excruciatingly traumatic experiences worse than ours, this is the first tragedy I have faced that I was old enough to understand and endure.

I was taking a week off work, enjoying my time fueling my faith at camp and meeting some pretty incredible people when I learned that we're all one phone call from our knees.  Every day since then has been a stopwatch on steroids.  Time just flies by.  Five seconds ago I was confident that I would be here to help Joseph be back to school and on his way to normal just in time to leave for my trip.  I had 6 weeks, still no visa, and plenty of time to pick a flight and still make the budget.

But then life happened.  Again.

I can honestly say that everything that has happened in the past three weeks is something to which I could retort with, "That happens sometimes but it's not going to happen to us.."  But it did.  We thought we were going home.. infection.  We had everything ready for tomorrow.. inpatient physical therapy.

And it's so so hard because as an adult, I can foresee that there IS an INCREDIBLE future ahead for this little boy.  But as a 9-year-old, Joseph thinks he's dying.  He's never felt this kind of pain.  He's never gone 3 weeks without a bath.  He's never been confined to 4 walls of a 12 foot by 12 foot room in a motorized bed fit with bedpan.  It's so hard for me to see him so upset and discouraged and fearful of the future he doesn't even think he has.

So many people have shared awe-inspiring stories of incredible feats accomplished by people using prosthetic limbs.  Things you or I could never even dream of doing.  But how do you explain to a kid that these things are possible?  I have this dark corner in my mind where I wonder, what if Joe becomes so depressed and so discouraged that he DOES let this debilitate his future, his potential?  How do you keep pushing someone who: A) doesn't want to do what you're trying to make them do, and B) as Joseph would tell you, "just had their foot cut off by a lawn mower"

You literally cannot argue with that.

And then here I am, part of me trying to help, hanging out with Johnny, making trips to Riley, making sure the pets are alive.  But then part of me is planning to spend 10 months, nearly a year, 4,000 miles away from my family, who is just entering the eye of this storm.  So many things running through my thoughts, my dreams, my nightmares.  I tell the same stories to the same people over and over again because I honestly can't even remember most of the thoughts I have when I have them.  I'm trying to squeeze so much into this brief blip of time, and on top of that I can't help but feel a bit guilty for leaving.

If you know me, you know that I believe that everything happens for a reason.  I think one of the positives to come from this accident is that I have had an opportunity I would have never had to grow closer to my brother, John.  With the age difference and other differences here and there I know that we wouldn't have had this chance under "normal" circumstances.  Now I also don't want you to misconstrue this to mean that I think what happened had to happen so I could deepen my relationships with my family.  Because that's just not true.  I simply mean that, as I've said before, the only way to move on and adapt to what's happened is to think of the positives.

So here are some more positives to leave you with:

1. I truly have the most supportive, caring family and friends ever.  Thank you.
2. I have become an expert on making Johnny do things around the house so I don't have to.
3. I have successfully made Joseph laugh on numerous occasions in the past week.
4. I have the opportunity of a lifetime to embark on in 4 short weeks, and I'm confident that this is what God has planned for me to do.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers, cards and meals, and especially hugs.  We need 'em now more than ever!