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“I’ll race you to the creek!” I challenged my twelve-year-old sister, Heather.
“You’re on!” she replied as she dashed off.
I began madly peddling my bike, darting around trees and bushes through the woods near my home. Being four years older, I quickly passed my sister and reached the creek in record time.
Heather arrived shortly after and boldly proclaimed, “Someday I will beat you!”

••••••

“Good-bye, Rachel!” my best friend Amy shouted on the last day of classes the following winter. “Have fun in Florida while I’m stuck here in Indiana!”
“I’ll see you next year!” I replied. I quickly ran out the school’s doors and to my family’s fully-packed van. As I opened the van door I heard the ageless argument of “Who gets what seat?” My mother assigned my brother the back and my sister and me the two bucket seats for the initial part of the trip. I decided to sleep away the driving time by snuggling up on the floor in between the seats. As I daydreamed of swimming in the ocean and lying in the warm sun, I slowly drifted off to sleep.

••••••

The screech of tires and the jerking of the van abruptly aroused me. Suddenly, I felt the van begin to skid. I tried to brace myself between the seats, but it did little good. Get control of the van, Dad! I frantically thought. Suddenly, I felt the sensation that the van was rolling, and, oddly, I began counting the rotations: One . . . two . . . three . . . four. Then everything went dark.

••••••

“There’s another one back here, Steve!" a female paramedic shouted as she leaned through the van’s shattered window. My head was pounding, and I tingled all over. I tried to stand up, but I couldn’t move my legs. There must be something on top of me, I thought. But when I looked down there was nothing hindering my legs from moving.
“Do you know how my family is?” I asked as I was being placed in the ambulance. No one answered.

••••••

“No, No! Tell me it isn’t true!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as I lay in my hospital bed several hours later. “Tell me she isn’t dead! Not my sister!” But it was all too true, and I knew I would never see Heather on this earth again. Little did I know in several days I would receive the second most horrific news of my life.

••••••

“You have an L1 vertebrae burst, which has caused numerous partial lacerations on your spinal chord and has severely damaged your lower motor skills and nervous system,” a young doctor stated.
“What does all that mean? When will I be able to walk again?” I asked.
The doctor paused for what seemed like an eternity and than slowly stated, “You have damaged your spinal chord and will most likely never walk again.”
The news hit me like a ton of bricks. My life was changed forever.

••••••

I had been stuck in my hospital bed for months. Almost every morning I would awaken and attempt to walk, thinking, Maybe last night while I was sleeping God performed a miracle and healed me, but every day I was discouraged to discover that I couldn’t even stand up. How could a loving God allow this to happen to me? All my dreams had been shattered in an instant. I would never see another rainbow painted by my wonderfully artistic sister. I would never again run barefoot along the creek and wiggle my toes in the sand. I would never find a man willing to marry a girl in a wheelchair. I was outraged. What had I done to deserve such punishment? If this was God’s idea of love, I didn’t want any part of Him or His plan.

••••••

I sat in my wheelchair waiting for physical therapy to begin. In the center of the gym, patients gritted their teeth as they underwent the painful process of regaining strength.
“Hi! How are you this afternoon?” a cheerful voice rang out.
“What?” I said bitterly at the man sitting next to me. The older gentleman introduced himself and began chatting away. At first I didn’t want to talk to this guy. I was depressed; he was far too upbeat. But as the conversation wore on I began to enjoy listening to him. He was a jolly old man who had had his foot amputated.
During the course of our conversation he told me how he had lost his foot. “I stepped on a metal stake and it went straight through my foot. The physicians bandaged my foot and told me to keep the pressure off and to come back in a week or two. When I returned to the hospital, I sure was in for a shock. The doctors hadn’t thoroughly cleaned my foot and hadn’t given me any medicines to ward off infection. My foot had become so infected they had no choice but to amputate.”
“Wow!” I said, “You must be angry with the doctors for making such a bad decision.”
I will never forget the old man’s response. He grinned from ear to ear and said, “Nope, I just figured the good Lord wanted my foot up in Heaven early!” For the first time in months I smiled, and then that smile broke into a tiny giggle. I could barely believe what I had heard. This man wasn’t bitter or angry, though he had every reason to feel that way.

••••••

All afternoon I thought about the old man’s joyful attitude, and I realized that joy is a choice. My outward circumstances do not have to dictate my inward attitude, I thought. I recalled the story of Job. Job was a righteous man, but God let horrible events take place in his life. Being righteous is no guarantee we won’t suffer. Through Job’s story we learn that God is sovereign. He doesn’t have to explain to us specifically why He allows suffering in our lives. Since He is good and loving we can rest assured that He is working to transform us into great men and women of character. Romans 8:28 says, “And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God.” The good is the betterment of our character. As I lay in my hospital bed, trembling amidst a flood of tears, I whispered, “God, please, use my shattered dreams to draw me closer to You and to communicate Your love and grace to others.”

••••••

“Two Sundays from now . . . ? They want me to speak two Sundays from now?” I stammered.
“Yes,” Lori enthusiastically replied! Lori explained that she had been in contact with a youth pastor in a neighboring city. After she shared my story with him, the youth pastor asked Lori to invite me to come speak to his youth group.
“Lori, it’s only been six months since the accident. I don’t think I’m ready to speak to anyone yet. I’m still working through so much. I couldn’t possibly get up in front of strangers and tell them my story,” I nervously explained.
“Rach, I know it’s your heart’s desire to communicate God’s love and grace to others. This is the perfect opportunity. I know you’re scared, but God will give you the words to say,” Lori gently persuaded.
“Well,” I said after taking a deep breath, “All right, tell them I’ll come; but, Lori, this is going to take a lot of prayer.”

••••••

“In conclusion I want you to visualize a scene,” I stated as I finished speaking to my first youth group. “Wouldn’t it be exciting if right now, in front of you, I could be miraculously healed, get up out of my chair, and start walking around? We’d all be excited and praising God. But far more exciting and wonderful in the long run would be the miracle of your salvation, the healing of your soul. You see, that’s more exciting because that’s something that will last forever. If my body were suddenly healed maybe I’d be on my feet another fifty to seventy years, but eventually my body would die. If even one person comes to know Christ because I am in a wheelchair, that would make my pain worthwhile. If you don’t know Christ as your Savior please don’t wait another moment. None of us knows when our life on earth will be done.”

••••••

Some time later I recalled my little sister’s assertion, “Someday I will beat you.” She made good on her promise. She finished her race and arrived in Heaven first. I still have a ways to go. My race is not done. I must daily press toward the finish line with the aim to live a life pleasing to God so that I may hear His cherished acclamation, “Well done, thou good and faithful servant: . . . enter thou into the joy of thy lord.”