Just the Pits

Ever hear that southern phrase? 'It's just the pits.' Honestly, this Atlanta-born girl isn't quite sure exactly what it means or how it came into being, but I do know it's supposed to imply that whatever "it" is is not good.



There are also phrases like 'pit of despair,' or 'bottomless pit.' No matter how much I rack my brain, I can't think of a good reference to a pit. Perhaps some are void of anything close to moral symbolism, like NASCAR and pit row (no, really, please don't send me emails about the origin of pit row. My dad would be the only person who'd care).



So, in the pits we find ourselves, right? Well, I feel like I'm in a pit and I'm reading a great book that solidifies my fears, but I am beginning to see how to get out of this pit.



We were thrown into our pit; not slipped into it or even jumped into it knowing full well there would be consequences. No, we were thrown like Joseph, not by our brothers, but by tragedy. It's dark. It's suffocating; feels like the walls are moving in on us. Is it raining now? Oh, great, now we're muddy and sinking down into this pit further.



Have you ever walked in mud? I mean, "really wet, been raining for days" kind of mud? I remember when I was about 12 we lived at the end of a culdesac. Behind us was an open field that eventually led up to a main thoroughway. They eventually cleared the land to ready it for building cluster homes and that Georgia red clay was unearthed as far as you could see. It rained for about five or six days straight. My brother and I ventured out in our grubbiest play clothes on our ATV, which we then parked and decided to walk. Yeah, right.



Working my way behind Jonathan and carefully trying to stay upright, we huffed and puffed up an incline. As I cleared the crest, all I saw was Jonathan's head and then it quickly disappeared. He'd been sucked into a mud pit and an entire leg disappeared in the earth. I'm not sure exactly how we eventually got him out of that pit of mud, but I know he lost his shoe and we were covered from head to toe in red clay.



When you're stuck in mud, it seems the more you move and work to escape, the more you sink and the more stuck you get. Or, if you're the one trying to pull someone out of the mud, you usually wind up covered it the stuff too. The same is true when you're in a spiritual pit. YOU can't do anything and neither can your buddy. God is the only one who can pull you out of the "miry pit."



This pit that I find me and Danny in is so deep and so dark, so muddy and slimy. Danny is chin deep in the mud and I just keep on pulling trying to get him out on solid ground. The last few weeks, since Danny's nightime spiritual awakening (see earlier post), I have been in turmoil. Like I wrote before, Satan works at destroying what I see as the core to this whole journey, our marriage. Danny and I have bickered more and been agitated with one another. We've just lived with this tension, at least, that is what I feel. There is no name for it or no obvious origin, but I guess it's stress almost embodied.



And, I hit the wall on Friday. It wasn't any huge fall out or arguement, just a comment said in a defiant, disrespectful manner that put me over the edge. Perhaps I was more sensitive since me and Corbin had been sick all week, but the tightness in my throat came and tears began to sting my eyes and I had to get out of there; being Shepherd. I left Danny there with his assistant to complete his therapy and for a couple hours found safety in my car. I cried, sobbed, screamed, yelled and hit my fist on the steering wheel. It wasn't enough so I drove. I ended up at a bookstore; don't know why. I hadn't been there before and absent mindedly wandered right into the Christianity section and right in front of my eyes was the infamous "pit" book that got me here. I didn't pick it up though, yet. I wasn't in a pit; at least in any pit a book was going to get me out of of. I decided to write and I did, pages really. The tears were still there and I'm sure I got more than one second glance as I sat up against a window, writing with my sunglasses still on my face. I bought the book. Why? Well, it's a familiar author, had a comment about God's deliverance on the cover, but it was what was on the back cover that made me pull out my wallet.



Psalm 40: 1-2 reads "I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand."



God is powerful enough to change our hearts and he knows exactly the best way to do it. He will lift us out of this pit and in Jesus' name He will place both our feet on solid ground where both of us will stand. Looking up when you're in a pit, you begin to see the light. Thankfully, I needed a reminder that Danny is God's child and it is not by my might, power or my strength, but His. Isn't that freeing?



Please continue your prayers on our behalf, but lift up praise for the video below is a brief glimpse in how well Danny is progressing. This video was shot ironically enough on Friday, 2/20.

Me, Myself and Irene

Warning: I feel a long blog a-comin' on, so hold on to your mouse and for some of you, grab that box of generic tissues.

There were several things you could always count on at my grandmother Irene's house; homemade pancakes with those little bottles of syrup from Cracker Barrel on Saturday mornings, the smell of fresh mint as you got out of the car in the driveway, the best biscuits you've ever put in your mouth, being tucked in up to your eyeballs whether you wanted your arms out or not, Wheel of Fortune seemed to be on all the time, birdhouses in the backyard and fresh tomatoes on the vine. But there are two things that stand out among the rest.

The first is that she always, always sat in the evenings and did her nails. She had this floor lamp that had a table around the stand and it always held a tube of hand cream, nail polish remover, a natural color nail polish and the cheapest nail file she could find. There was a pride she had about her hands; she had the softest hands I've ever felt.

I guess that is why when she was bedridden by brain cancer, you could find me sitting by her bed doing her nails. Even when they were yellowed and brittle from her body shutting down, I wanted her hands to be pretty and soft. She died 15 years ago last week and I just can't get her out of my mind.

One of the last moments of her life that she responded to me, before the cancer dragged her into the darkness of death, I stood on her vanity stool in my homecoming court evening gown. She cried. Perhaps because she knew she wasn't going to make it to see me on court or because of all the gowns she knew she was going to miss; my high school and college graduation gowns, my wedding gown, my hospital gown at the birth of her third great-grandson. Perhaps she saw the future and came to the realization that she'd have to view it from above.

The second thing and by no means the least, is Grandmother had this habit of saying "Praise the Lord." I always thought she meant it as simple praise, but as I've grown into adulthood and had my own share of troubles, I realize she may have been reminding herself to always "Praise the Lord" in all things.

Danny and I have certainly been tossed about in the waves of this storm, but I've always come back to the peace that comes about with a simple "Praise the Lord."

I will do this again now as I share with you how the Lord has blessed our family.

Danny has had incredible days at therapy. "Incredible" is the only word that Candy (therapist) could use to describe Danny's progress. He has taken numerous steps independently with his right leg, he now only needs two people to aid him with the standard walker, he walks in the pool just holding on to the shoulders of the therapist. He stands at his sink at home to get dressed now and has even brushed his teeth while standing there. Corbin is very proud of his Daddy and I am too. While all these improvements are exciting, the most significant change is his attitude.

A couple weeks ago at 4am, Danny woke me up to talk. Now, Danny wakes me up a couple times during the night to turn, but this time he needed to talk. It seemed that he'd been up since I turned him the last time, about two hours. He couldn't sleep, so he decided to pray. And, what came out of his mouth was not short of amazing. It wasn't just one night, but three nights in a row that it seems God kept him awake and during this time, I feel like Danny was truly healing from the inside-out.

Danny talked about the future and the work he'd like to do, who he wants to hire and the house he'd like to have. He talked about another baby. But, yet, it was the spiritual epiphany, if you will, that excited me the most. He felt convicted to apologize to some people and has since acted upon that, he came to the realization that God has been waiting for him "to lay it all down." What was so amazing is that the words coming out of his mouth were completely his own. It wasn't like we'd been talking about spiritual stuff or even about the future. He really talked to God and his therapists and those close to him, noticed the difference.

Now, I'd like to say that all things have been peachy since, but as we Christians have come to know, when things are looking up, Satan likes to punch you down again. So, the best place to make the most impact, our marriage. I know that if we allow Satan to mess with our marriage, it will have a negative impact on all things relating to us and our families. It is, afterall, our marriage that Satan was trying to divide four years ago, but you know what? Come August 16, 2009, we will have been married longer post accident than we were before Danny's injury.

It was an odd revelation to me. Word has it that the first year of marriage is always the toughest and I remember we always were wondering when the tough part was coming. We loved being married and loved each other. Although those are wonderful sentiments, it is the post accident marriage that has been beaten, but not broken. We have learned more in these few years than most couples learn; the three person marriage is absolutely the key to success.

My Grandmother would have loved Danny and I'm sure she does from heaven. And she would have fallen head over heels for Corbin. There is a small part of me that wouldn't be surprised if she personally picked Corbin for us. He is our angel and the most normal part of our lives. But, reflecting on my dear Grandmother, I will hold on to her lesson of example and "Praise the Lord."