When I came to, I no longer knew who I was or anyone else in the vehicle.
I couldn’t remember how I got in the vehicle in the first place. In fact, I couldn’t remember anything before that moment. Words were being spoken but they sounded like the adults in Charlie Brown cartoons. The man in the front seat kept looking at me and saying something but I assumed he spoke a different language. When I finally tried asking what was going on it felt like some filter was slowly removed from the audio and I could gradually understand his language.Â
Unfortunately, I had no clue who he was. Later that day, I learned that he was my husband and his children were mine as well. I also found out my name was Sheila because everyone got annoyed when I didn’t respond to them calling out that name.
It was supposed to be a fun road trip to spend Thanksgiving with family but it ended up becoming my own wrestling match with God. Every bit of my identity was challenged. I discovered all the different ways I have wrapped up my own identity into what I can do, like reading. It was a dark, dark day for me when after a year after the accident I discovered that I could no longer read.
Every letter looked like a series of broken lines and circles… meaningless chicken scratch.
I was terrified that I wouldn’t ever be able to read again. I had no clue reading was so fundamental to my identity until it was taken away from me. Thankfully, we homeschool and my family had the tools and knowledge to teach me to read and write again. It was an incredibly painful and slow process.
Humiliating.
But as long as they were willing to help me, I wouldn’t give up.
Over the years my husband and I had collected so many books that some people are put off by what can only be described as a dragon’s hoard of treasure. As I looked around my house after discovering my new situation, each book represented a locked treasure.
I came to the realization that my desire to finish homeschooling my kids through high school and finishing my geology degree were pointless. If I couldn’t read and write well… or remember what I’ve learned, I was just wasting my time and money.
I was slowly able to gain more and more information about my life but I couldn’t retain it. I’d learn it one day and then forget it after I went to sleep. It was exhausting and everything I did took massive effort and may not last.
What I discovered was that memories and abilities that I had from before the accident could be regained with intense and sustained efforts, which gave me hope. It did change what I worked to regain though. I started to measure the value of memories differently than I would before the accident since it was so costly now. My handle on who I was and what was important to me started to get rewritten as I went through an identity crisis.
After I relearned how to read well enough by myself again, I picked up the Bible to seek counsel from the only One who could help me.
If I am a summation of my experiences and abilities, what happens if those are all taken away? Am I still valuable? Is there a point when I would become too much work to be valuable?
The wrestling I did with God during those days was raw and painful in a way that left me limping.
I couldn’t remember what I had gone through the day before and would relive the same moments over and over and over again. The only way that I found that I could move forward was to take detailed notes and review them over and over again.
After months, a remnant of the memories would be left in emotions and vague recollections. It was enough to give me hope, though. These were the beginning of my transformation and the most valuable revelation I’ve ever had.
All the notes I was taking showed me that I wasn’t alone. Every one of my prayers were being answered. Every pain was shared by the people in the Bible and the people God had brought into my life. The notebooks full of chicken scratch from someone relearning how to write, were full of evidence that there was a God who heard my prayers and cared… Deeply cared and was invested in me. I would read a passage in the Bible and the Truth that I learned would soon become an experience I would have to put into practice.
One day I realized that God was my Teacher, the Bible was my textbook, and my life was the lab where I was required to live what I was learning.
It sounds so simple looking back. I was stunned that I never realized it before but it profoundly changed my perspective. All of the sudden it wasn’t just me trying to figure this life out on my own but I was being put through my own personal educational program created by the ultimate Teacher.
I had wasted so many lessons.
The more I paid attention, the more I progressed and the more peace I had in my life. My Teacher had me and my best interest in mind.
The road was rough and filled with pain but I was in good hands.
Everything hurt but the results were incredible. Some days I couldn’t be convinced that my educational plan was for my good but He was still there hearing my prayers… I had the evidence to disprove my lying emotions.
I fought Him with every step and I’m sure I was dragged along more often than my pride will let me honestly admit.
The resulting story demanded to be written but I fought that as well. Turns out I am a fighter. A very stubborn one. So The Cost to Go Back was brought into existence and it is a portrayal of my wrestling with God. It is a depiction of how I maniacally grasp for control of my life.
The crazy part is that the healing and peace I have experienced in spite of my rebellion can’t be expressed in any words that I know. The only way that I could come up with that might work is to tell stories… stories on top of stories and hope that together they will do the work that I can’t with all my limitations.
If you want to see where that story begins, the first chapter of The Cost to Go Back is waiting for you here.
And if you want to follow along as the rest gets written, you’re welcome to join the list.
