plucking daisies
I didn’t always realize how much God loves me. Although the Word told me so, knowing is different from understanding. My lack of understanding made it hard for me to accept the fullness of love God had for me, and that made it hard to receive love from myself and others.
“Love yourself before you love anyone else.” There’s biblical truth to that, and it’s in Matthew, Mark, and John. Before I could ever love myself or anyone else, I’d have to love God -- the first part of that scriptural truth. And before I can love God, I’d have to know, understand, and believe God’s love for me.
The first time I accepted that God loved me was in February 2016. It happened around maybe or 4 pm CT, two days after my birthday, three days after deciding to be baptized for my birthday, and one day after my friend Lilian poured into me about having Godfidence as a Daughter of the King. It was the first time anyone had every poured into my heart the way that she did in the Spirit.
That morning I woke up feeling confident and sure of who I am in Christ. I dressed up in my favorite bell-bottom pants and a cute seersucker top. I did my hair and my makeup, too. I dressed how I felt, and I felt beautiful. When I got to work, I stood confident, assured, and tall. Everything about that day was different.
I decided I would leave work early to get to class 15 minutes ahead of schedule, something I didn’t usually do. I kept thinking about car accidents and how I’d never been in one. I kept thinking that wasn’t going to last long. Before leaving, I’d usually say bye to everyone in the office. That day, I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving.
When I got to my car, even my routine when getting in the car was different. Sunglasses off, phone in my purse, purse on passenger side floor. Something told me I needed to be careful, so I pulled to the parking lot exit to enter the intersection, and I waited for every car on both sides of the street to pass. When the coast was clear, I pulled out as slowly as possible.
Then a loud bang and everything went black. I could smell the powder from the airbag coming out of my steering wheel. I felt heavy like I couldn’t move. All I could think about was the other driver, and if they were okay. When I opened my eyes, I saw what the extra weight was. My right forearm was now an L-shaped Tetris piece resting over my armrest and onto the passenger seat. I franticly searched for my phone, and the first person I called was Lilian.
Black again, then sirens. The firefighters were asking me to press on my break, but it was stuck. They couldn’t get my car to stop roIling into the traffic on the other side. There was a pedal they told me to press my foot on, but I couldn’t focus long enough to do it. My arm hurt. I was screaming. My shouts for my mother started turning into shouts for God to take the pain away. My friend Kali kept trying to calm me down. The firefighters couldn’t give me more painkillers because they’d already given me the highest dosage for someone my size.
By God’s grace, my panic turned into miraculous clarity, and I finally calmed down and pressed my foot on the pedal. They pulled the emergency brake and got me out of my car, onto the gurney, and into the ambulance. I cracked so many jokes that day, I’d never laughed so hard in my life. “I always said I’d be fine if my right arm broke, I never use it.” I kept joking with the EMT about that until we got to the hospital.
The ambulance doors flung open and out poured loud, belly-filled, heartfelt laughter. I was so full of joy. Later on, Lilian shared that every worker in the hospital stopped what they were doing to see the commotion. She made sure to explain that it wasn’t the drugs because I am, in fact, that silly.
Lying on the operating room table, I asked every personnel I saw if they were having a good day. I don’t think they expected that, and they all stopped to answer me when I asked. I remember the doctor came in to check my arm and I cried about the pain from her touching it, she didn’t want to see my hurting, so she had them stop what they were doing so they could give me an anesthetic. I’m grateful for that woman.
They rolled me through the halls and into a small room to wait for a bigger one with one bed to be available. It was in that small-sized room I received the first amount of the depth of God’s love for me. I was in my rolling bed, and my friends were all there making sure I was okay and well looked after. Lilian showed me the damage to my car, and I remember screaming one thing: “He really loves me!”
With all the damage may car got, I was surprised the only thing that broke was my arm. The entire front of my car was smashed up, and my car was totaled. My shouts started to turn into tears of joy. I believed I could’ve died, but I didn’t because God kept me. And He kept me because He loves me. That love made me more confident that I was walking in the right direction. I self-published my second book, determined that I was getting baptized, and committed my heart to God on that day.
Once they rolled me into the bigger room, I realised what had happened almost an hour ago. I realised the magnitude of what I declared over myself that morning. I realised the magnitude of my decisions. I understood that they were HUGE paradigm shifts for the direction of my life. Then, they took my into my surgery.
After my surgery, I was alone most days. Everyone knew I was okay, and visited when they could. It was lonely being in that hospital room by myself. It was nice being visited every so often by friends. Since I only ever saw hospital personnel, I made it my mission to intentionally ask them how they are and to tell them all thank you. Sometimes, the nurses would stay with me a while longer to talk, especially when they’d wake me in the middle of the night.
Though it was a pleasant stay, I prayed to be out of the hospital by Friday. I didn’t want anything to keep me from being baptized, and I believe God heard my prayers because I was released Friday morning. The doctor’s first remark about my cast was not to get it wet. I scoffed in my mind, “as if that’s going to stop me and my plans.”
Then Sunday morning came, and I was ready. I put on a nice dress, did my hair, and readied myself for church and for the single moment that would change my life forever. The Word of God that day was so rich, and I just remember feeling so floored, grateful and complete by how God showed His love to me over the span of just a few days. By the end of the sermon, I was ready to keep going.
As we headed away from church and to the baptism destination, Lilian’s car ran out of gas right down the street from the gas station. A friend was able to deliver us fuel, and we continued on our merry way. We made it to the pool, and it started to rain. I STILL KEPT GOING.
That Sunday, in a pool somewhere in Dallas, Texas, I chose to be water-baptized before God. I decided to give my life to Him by burying myself with Christ in water-baptism. I decided to pursue Him, His Kingdom, and His glory fervently. I chose Him above all else. I don’t know what grew in my heart the night of February 16, 2016. It made me so determined, so fearless, so ready, so devoted, so relentless. It filled me with a fire for God that I couldn’t contain.
My arm healed miraculously, and the scars from my stitches healed wonderfully. They blend so well that you wouldn’t be able to tell they’re scars unless you asked. I’ve been told they look kind of like tattoos. Sometimes I even forget they’re there.
Sometimes I remember and look at the marks on my arms that were left behind. They take me back to those moments, and all I can do is praise God for His goodness in my life. I wouldn’t change any part of those days because they’ve brought me closer to love. And love will always bring me closer to God. These scars are my beauty marks, and I’m so thankful they remind me of the day I first realised that God really loves me.
