"What is God Trying To Teach Us Now?"

CHAPTER 3

16:50 pm
Las Cruces, NM

Hear O Israel. The Lord our God, the Lord is one. Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength...Impress these on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. (Deuteronomy 6: 4 - 7)

Everything in life changed on May 8th, 1997.I had often told people I that I loved reading Guidepost articles but I never wanted to be one. Now I was smack dab in the middle of one. This is my story.


It was 4:30 in the afternoon when I first received the call. For most of the day I had been interviewing applicants for a new Head Start teacher. In fairness to each person, I had been meticulously asking the same questions over and over. I was feeling drowsy and the prospect of one more interview was not exciting me.

As I greeted the next the next person to be interviewed, my secretary told me I had a call from Janet, my husband’s secretary and I needed to take the call. Janet simply told me that Fred had been in an accident in the church parking lot and he wanted me to come. She did not give me details but there was something about the tone in her voice that left no question. I needed to go to the church immediately.

I made my apology to the man who was waiting to be interviewed and flew out of my office. The second I stepped out into the hallway our daughter Melissa rounded the corner. She was on her way to tell me she had turned in her last paper as a student at New Mexico State University. I pulled her next to me and kept walking down the hallway thinking how fortunate it was that she arrived at that exact moment.
As we walked I told her about the phone call. She wanted details and I didn’t have any to give her. Frankly, I was kind of irritated. What was I going to do? I would probably just have to put Fred in the car and take him to the nearest Family Medical Center. I certainly was no nurse. I didn’t know why Janet couldn’t just do that herself. She had a background in nursing and should know what to do. How serious could an accident in a church parking lot be?
The moment we pulled into the parking lot of the church, I knew that there was something more going on than I had suspected. I noted that police cars, an aide car and an ambulance were all present. There were numerous emergency personnel scurrying around with a sense of urgency but not panic. They acted professionally and calmly in spite of what, I would soon learn, was the dire nature of the accident. My heart began to race.
Melissa and I ran to the back doors of the ambulance where Fred was just being loaded into the imposing mobile emergency room. He was strapped to a backboard. His neck was in a brace.His head was taped as well to keep it completely immobilized. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and most of his face. Clothes had been cut from his body. There were long, deep lacerations and smeared blood visible all over his body. His eyes were swollen and gave off a ghastly reddish purple color. His skin also appeared reddish purple and he was breathing far more rapidly and shallow than a normal, healthy person. At once I knew that Fred had been the victim of a horrible accident. How could something so unthinkable happen in an almost vacant church parking lot late in the afternoon on a weekday? It would be weeks before I really understood exactly what did happen.
Everything was moving at an urgent pace. The medical attendants were almost set to take him to the hospital. I leaned over Fred, touched his hand and told him I loved him. He returned with words of affection and then, what he told me made me smile. He told me to get someone else to drive me to the hospital. He didn’t want me to drive and get in an accident because I was upset. Worried about me getting in an accident? If a person can find humor in this kind of situation, this was one of those moments. The bitter irony made my chuckle under my breath. The EMTs closed the doors and hopped in.
The ambulance took off with sirens mournfully wailing. Melissa and I followed after them. We had not traveled three blocks when Melissa asked, “So, mom, what do you think God is trying to teach us through this?” At first I was taken back by such a spiritual response. It came so quickly I was unprepared for the query.

True, we had talked numerous times about how God teaches us through difficult situations. We had never been a family who pretended to have all of the answers or claim that leading a life with Christ at the center would insure smooth sailing. Yet our family had been relatively immune from major crises. My parents had both passed away – my father the victim of a freak accident while working underneath his car; my mother from a prolonged and gradually worsening condition of dementia. Fred's dad had died the previous May. Otherwise, the usual trials that every family faces - juggling busy schedules; making a dollar stretch; handling the pressures of stressful jobs;of raising adolescent girls (dates, grades, curfews, driving, science projects and college applications) – had been the norm.
Maybe it is because I am a teacher and teachers always seem to be intent on their students learning or discovering something new in any and every situation. Or perhaps it is because I have always been aware that we are a work in progress. God has begun a work in us but the work of making us more in the image of Christ continues daily. Regardless of the reasons, “What is God trying to teach us?” was quite often the basis for discussions in our family when we faced unusual or challenging circumstances.
I have to admit that pondering what I was to learn from this terrible accident was far from what I was thinking at the time, but it was a question that would come back again and again to my mind over the next months and even years after the accident. Nothing is wasted in God’s economy.
When we ran into the Emergency Room I wanted to go straight to Fred. Instead I was seated at a booth with a clerk who needed me to fill out admission and insurance paperwork. Insurance? My husband was broken, bleeding - maybe dying - and I had to fill out forms give them insurance numbers and cards? It seemed absurd and not just a little irritating.
Finally the paperwork was completed. Melissa and I were ushered into a small waiting room that is reserved for families of patients who have a life threatening illness or injury. Adjacent to the trauma bays, we could hear and sense the commotion and busy tasks the medical staff at the hospital were taking.

The tears that had been at the surface poured out. One of our friends told me crying was a good thing. When her husband was in a serious accident, she couldn’t cry. I remember thinking, “well I certainly don’t have to worry about that.” Just when I would get under control, I would see Fred as I last saw him in such obvious pain and the flood gate of tears would open up again.
The next several hours were a blur of different doctors and nurses giving updates. "They are taking Fred for x-rays. They are taking Fred for an MRI. We are trying to set up a Flight for Life to take Fred to a Level One Trauma Center either in Albuquerque or El Paso. Can we get you anything?" As if a cup of coffee was going to help at this point! I would find that over the next several weeks, people were always trying to get me to eat or drink something.
After the initial x-rays and the MRI were completed, we received our first bit of good news. An ER doctor reported that Fred had not sustained any serious damage to internal organs and there were no obvious signs of internal bleeding. His organs were bruised but still in tact. It was my friend Betty who is a nurse that said, “Do you know what really good news that is?” I had to admit I didn’t. Once again as time progressed and I learned the extent of Fred’s injuries that fact became a miracle. It was amazing that with the crushing force that had broken so many bones in his torso, not one of them punctured an organ.
While all the conversations were going on about where to transport Fred, Doctors continued to examine Fred and try to stabilize him. What Fred wanted was to make sure Bob knew he didn’t blame him for his injuries. I was amazed through all the pain he was experiencing he could think of anyone other than himself.
When I was finally allowed to see him, they were trying to get him to wiggle his toes, push down and lift up his feet, lift his fingers, raise his arms and make a fist with his hands. He could not do any of these things. My mind was in a whirl. Was he completely paralyzed? Would he ever regain any of those functions which we all take so for granted?
Dr. Bruce San Filippo, the neurosurgeon who had been called in to diagnose and attend to Fred, said they were going to do an x-ray of his neck. When he called me back in a second time, he showed me an x-ray that even I, who have no medical training or history with hospitals aside from childbirth, could tell it showed something serious; very serious. One of the vertebrae in his neck was dislocated and was resting on top of the other. I would later learn it was his C5 and C6 vertebrae that were involved. His spinal cord had been pinched but not severed. This was causing the paralysis symptoms.
Dr. San Filippo said that it was imperative to reduce the pressure causing this neural weakness right away. Hopefully, damage to the all important spinal cord would be minimized. The longer these vertebrae remained in this position the more critical the situation would become. He explained they would put tongs in Fred’s head and then slowly add weights to pull his neck so that the top vertebrae could be released off of the bottom one. A series of steroid injections was also prescribed.
I needed to sign some papers to give them permission to do this procedure. Flashes of a Frankenstein movie loomed in front of me. They are going to put holes in my husband’s head? Pull his neck back into alignment with weights? The room began to spin, I felt nauseous. I sat on a stool with my head between my legs until the feeling passed. Only then was I able signed the papers.

As I returned to the small family room I tried to explain what was happening. I knew we had to pray that the procedure would accomplish its purpose. As the hours drug on, we would get periodic updates. At first they put on 40 pounds of weights then took another x-ray. The top vertebra was still putting pressure on the bottom one. They begin placing successively larger weights until, finally, there was eighty pounds of pressure working in traction to separate those vertebrae.
Finally, I was allowed to go back and see Fred. Thankfully, the procedure had begun to show signs of promise. He was wiggling his fingers, lifting his arms a few inches, pushing on a doctor’s hand with his feet. Sensation, particularly in the feet was minimal and he couldn’t raise either foot nor raise his toes upward. They told me they would need to keep this hideous apparatus on him until surgery could correct the injury.
After several conversations among the doctors involved, they decided not to move Fred to another hospital. As I understood it, the main reason was that he was on a special board called a Stryker Frame that kept him immobile. They would not move him from this yet and the contraption would not fit in the helicopters that were available. Since the time that Fred remained in the hospital before being moved to a rehabilitation center in El Paso was over a month, this became a decision for which I would be grateful. It would have been so hard to have him in another city.
Feeling more and more helpless as the night went on, I remembered the times of anointing people with oil and praying for healing that we had begun at our church. Was this the time to do that? I did feel a desperate even urgent need to call out to God for special intervention. Dave suggested we all go the hospital chapel to pray. Melissa and I joined our friends that had been in the waiting rooms. This was a precious, calming time of prayer.

One of the elders from Northminster did go home and put some Wesson oil in a bottle and was ready to do this. It brought a different kind of tears to my eyes when someone told me this had been done. Just knowing they were ready to do this out of obedience to God comforted me. I realized that Fred had taught and trained his elders well. Fred was certainly not an autocratic leader, a one man show. And it showed during this difficult time.
At about 1:00 in the morning several friends from our congregation, including the elder with the oil, were allowed to go back into the examining room with Fred for a few moments. We all had to stand far away from his “bed” so we would not overstress him. It was obvious it was too much for him to have that many people around him, so the special anointing and praying for him was not to be done in that particular way, at that particular time. We did have a short time of prayer with him, however.
A good friend, Dave, agreed to stay the night with Fred which allowed us the freedom to get some rest. So at about 2:00 a.m. Melissa and I decided we should go home. Although exhausted, I didn’t know if I could sleep but I had a sense that I would need to stay strong for the long road ahead of us.
What would we learn through this accident? What was God trying to teach us? I certainly did not know that first night. Sometimes we learn things quickly like a child who touches a hot stove. That child will very likely never have to repeat that lesson. The consequences are quick and painful. I learned a lesson like that when I was supervising Head Start teachers. One teacher was struggling with the management of her class. Without thinking, I mentioned this to another teacher, one of her colleagues. This got back to the teacher who was having problems and she was rightfully angry and resentful that I had shared this with someone else. I touched the stove and it hurt. I asked forgiveness of the teacher I had observed and told the other teacher how wrong I was to have shared with her details that I should not have shared. I can safely say this was a lesson that did not need repeating.
Other times we learn to do things and it is not obvious when they were mastered. Learning to read is often in this category. I know I was in first grade when I learned to read but I don’t remember the day, the time, or a particular lesson. Now that I have taught reading to young children I understand more about the process. It starts with being read to and looking at books with a parent. Then you will notice a child “reading” a book by looking at the pictures. Often the first books that are read are memorized, much to the dismay of some parents. Finally, some sight words are learned, and then these are joined with predictable, phonetic words. Before you know it, you are reading. Now this description may break down when someone who has a learning disability such as dyslexia learns to read. They often must work much harder at accomplishing this task.
Most of the lessons I have learned as a believer are those that are learned gradually. I actually think I have exhibited learning disabilities when it comes to some spiritual lessons. It seems I have to be taught over and over. I all but stopped praying for patience because I knew some unwanted situation would present itself where I could “learn” again how to be patient. I still have not mastered this skill!

To be taught something, you need to know the goal. When I think about growing and learning in spiritual terms we have to start with knowing what it is God is trying to teach us. What are his learning objectives for our lives? We don’t have to spend much time reading in the Bible before we find these clearly spelled out. Some of them are so big I find it difficult to put my mind around them. I am to become holy, like Christ. That is huge! Other times it is more specific, yet still seemingly hard to master. We are to put our complete trust in God no matter what the circumstance. And then there are the instructions I really hate to read. We are to love our enemies, forgive again and again, let trials and tests produce … love, hope, patience and perseverance.

I “asked Jesus into my heart” when I was six years old. My faith in Christ was just a natural part of my life. As a teenager I mingled with the in-crowd but was always too busy with my youth group and Campus Life Club to join them in the party life. I was a regular goody two shoes.

It was during these years when I was involved in Sunday School, youth camps, and Navigators conferences that I memorized verses and became grounded in my faith. These verses that had made their way into my heart so many years earlier came to my mind again and again during the time Fred was in such serious condition. They became my textbook for learning lessons of faith.
Some of the verses that played over and over in my head like a broken record were:

All things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purposes. Romans 8:28 (I learned that one in the King James Version and that is how it remains in my mind!)

Cast all your anxiety on Him because he cares for you. I Peter 5:7

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8: 38 & 39 This verse was shortened in my mind to “Nothing, no matter how awful it is, can separate us from the love of God.”

I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned, the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43: 1b – 2

These verses became my cornerstones for learning more about trusting a trustworthy God, that out of trials good does come, and God is working in and through all situations. What was God trying to teach us through this?
I had no idea how many ways I would be taught these lessons nor that I would still be learning some in a big way years later.