The event that interrupted our lives was a car accident that occurred when our son, John was driving back to Boston from Montreal on Sunday evening, February 2, 2003. His rented vehicle hit black ice on Interstate Highway 89 near St. Alban’s, Vermont.
Until that point in time, Glen tells how his work was often the focus of his life, and he carried heavy responsibilities as the head of The Salvation Army in France, that at that time in its history was undergoing significant structural changes. There were many challenges he faced both from a mission and a business point of view. During the four years that we had been in this assignment, we were encouraged by the progress that was happening, but well aware of the demands that perplexed us as well.
The accident cast us into a new role. For twenty-five years we had been helping, leading and “carrying” other people as we fulfilled our ministry obligations. However, following John’s accident, we were knocked off our feet and we needed to be carried by our friends in the body of Christ.
John’s accident happened at 7 p.m. Eastern Standard Time. Our daughter, Elizabeth was informed by a phone message she picked up when she returned to her apartment at midnight. She called us immediately in Paris, where it was then 6 a.m. on Monday, February 3. The message from the hospital in Vermont was: “Your brother has been in a car accident and has been paralyzed. You need to inform your family and come immediately.”
For a few minutes as this news stunned us, we sat paralyzed, not knowing what to do or where to turn. Glen called the hospital and tried to reach the surgeon who was caring for John to understand what was really happening. He called his brother a doctor in London, Ontario to try to get come clarity. Quickly we knew that we had to go and tried to make arrangements for a flight to Montreal, where we knew friends would help us get to the hospital in Burlington, Vermont where John was in Intensive Care.
Until that day, quadriplegia was only a word we had heard tossed about, we had no idea of its ability to change the whole trajectory of a life. We knew nothing of levels of spinal cord injury, attendant care, internal and external catheters and commode chairs and Hoyer lifts and hands permanently in tenodesis position. These would all become a part of our discoveries over the following months and years.
Glen’s response to my question about how this interruption changed his life was that he realized any dreams or hopes that he might have had for John were irrevocably changed by that accident in ways that he could not hope to figure out and he was not able to do anything about those changes.
The sense of powerlessness evoked at such times not only forces us to acknowledge our own vulnerability, it also opens us in a strange way to the pain of others and to their fragility. The gift this brings is not only their willingness to lend a helping hand to assist us in standing on our feet once more, but also trusting us with their own fragility. This has opened new doors of understanding in our lives.
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2 comments:
Thank you for sharing yet another of your "The Interrupted Life . . ." series, Eleanor.
Your family pics - especially those featuring John - really helped me get a sense of your family's interrupted life, as by God's grace it has become these many years later. Joy and love are clearly evident in all your faces and active among you. ~~+~~
Eleanor, thanks for your article. We don't know what will come, do we? It looks as though your son is doing well. That's good to see.
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