The strength beyond the scars

A tension headache sets in as my eyes adjust to glasses with new, stronger lenses. An aspirin will soon relieve my pain. I wish I could offer the same relief to my ophthalmologist. I am his pain. I present an ongoing challenge to this man; I have myopia and astigmatism, combined with a need for bifocals and complicated by the fact that the visual acuity of my right eye is twice that of the left. So, I am a problematic patient. Yet it he takes it all in good stride, because it is a miracle that my right eye affords me any vision at all.

At six years old, I was riding my tricycle in the family drive-way as my younger brother played cowboy nearby. What I didn’t realize in time was that the lasso he wielded was a small, hooked chain that my father used to latch the car trunk down on oversized loads. I still hadn’t quite figured it out as the metal tore at my face.

There was no waiting at the doctor’s office … as if they could have held Dad back as he pulled me forward in a barely controlled panic. But I was fortunate. Perhaps the luckiest little girl ever, the doctor told me. While the metal hook had sliced through my retina, it had stopped just short of the pupil. Barring any infection, my vision would be spared.

The doctor was right. After weeks of healing under a mountain of bandages, my eye was as good as new … or better.

As the years have gone by with my myopia gradually increasing, my injured eye has fared better than the one which was spared. What was wounded became stronger, superior. My optometrist marvels at this each year when I visit. He remains in awe of the power of healing that, not only allows me to see, but which now allows me to see more clearly than through the unscathed eye.

I don’t take this blessing for granted … or its lesson. Through it I’ve learned that wherever there is injury, there also exists a capacity for healing and something greater. And if this is true for the flesh, I’ve reasoned, why not for the wounds to the spirit as well?

If I could erase that drive-way accident from my life -- the blood, the fear and panic -- I would not. It is mine and I would not disown it or any other day from my life, even those which brought pain. I am who I am as the sum of these days. And where I was wounded, I am now stronger.

What events in your life have made you stronger?

Comments

[Brenda replies]

Deb -- For most of us, it probably is a lifelong series of events that make us better, stronger. And, by the way, I have now thoroughly adapted to my eye glasses ... and I love being able to easily read blogposts again so now I'll be heading out to just that!

Mike -- I have yet to face the trial of a parent's passing. I know it won't be easy, but I can only hope that I fare as well as you! Your words are good encouragement!

Tammy -- You comments have made me look at some of my fears for others differently! One of the reasons I do not have children is because -- as an involved aunt -- I know the worry would consume me. Will the children get hurt? Will some monster abuse them? Will they lose themselves to drugs?

But I made it through the accident relayed here and I've lived through the various "slings and arrows" of life ... emerging a better person. So, why wouldn't my nieces or nephews fare the same? Certainly no one makes it through life unscathed, untested. I think I should let my fears for others aside and just trust that any scars they get will help them become better people ... just as my trials have done for me. I'm going to have to work on this!

Bimmy -- I love your line, "Out of chaos I found redemption." I cannot tell you how many times and situations that applies to in my own life! How when things looked dark, a salvation of sorts was just around the corner! As long as we, in your words, can "see how the best can be made of a situation," then there is hope. And where there is hope, anything is possible!

Emily -- First, my heartfelt sympathy! I cannot imagine anything making a more profound difference in one's life than the loss of a child! That experience could have taken you down a much darker road, but you and your spouse obviously took the high road and gave each other the support that was needed to insure that some good was derived from that loss.

I especially like your metaphor of the quilt. Yes, it might be frayed, but every threadbare patch has meaning and a new store-bought covering is just cheap by comparison.

Thanks for sharing this very compelling part of your life.

[Deb]

Were that it was a single event. But way too personal to post on a blog.

I do understand when new glasses are a pain though. I got new ones a week ago and it is the first time I haven't gone back every day to get something adjusted. This is also the first pair of progressives that I have been able to use with the computer screen.

[Mike Foster]

Wow, I was cringing through your brave and inspiring words. But you seem to have taken that event and turned it positive--something I try to do as often as possible. For me, if was the death of my father several years back. His death changed my life...for the better, and I've not looked back.

peace,
mike
livelife365
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[Tammy Warren]

What a terrible accident. I fear all of the time that one of my children are going to have a terrible injury such as this.

Yes, we do learn from these experiences. They are all part of our journey through life. For the good or bad...we carry them with us always.

I so love reading your blog.

[Bimmy the Bookish]

Too many to single one out for mention - so i know you are SOOO right. Always an opportunity for healing, always a way to see how the best can be made of a situation.

My life unravelled in quite a serious way ten years ago, but in all those years before that I never been truly myself or known proper happiness.
Coming out of that unravelling has allowed me to become who i really am, not who everyone else wanted me to be. Now i have a fantastic new husband and family around me, and am doing what i love and am good at with my writing.

Out of chaos I found redemption. Its good to be back here after a few weeks off doing chores; always a good thoughtful post, Brenda!

[Emily]

I was married a couple of months. My husband was in medical school. And we were thousands of miles apart. He came home for a year and we got pregnant -- immediately. He scratched plans for a masters in public health and I panicked.

Then the idea sank in and I was excited about becoming a young mom. After all, I always wanted my children by the time I was 30.

Well, the joy turned to pain when I started bleeding and I wondered how I'd ever be happy again.

More than 8 years later I look back on that time fondly. My husband just didn't relate to the depths of my emotions. Somehow, the distance between us and our experiences of the loss brought us closer. (OK, that somehow is part marital counseling, but also part of that bond that comes through suffering and the raw experience of being human.)

I liken the experience to holes in a well-loved quilt ... they are tears and scars that won't go away, but I wouldn't trade it in for a new replica ... not for anything.

Anyway, that's my experience. My marriage and I are stronger for it. And I reflect fondly on the soul that graced my life so briefly and helped shape the mother I am now. I wouldn't change a thing and I look forward to being reunited with my first child.