Traumatic life after a TBI… PART 1

I’ve been asked on more than one occasion why I believe in God. Why – after all I’ve been through – I maintain that there is only one true, living God. Some people ridicule me for my belief. Others demand that I not speak of Him.

I can never guarantee the latter – I outright refuse to never speak of my Lord and my God. The former saddens me enormously.

But to answer the question so many have asked me about: I believe in God because He is. That may not make sense to you, but it definitely does to me. I’ll try to explain.

When I was in the hospital – in a comatose/unconscious state – I came very close to death. I don’t remember much about those days, except that I was in a constant, nightmarish world. Bad things happened time and time again.

I am grateful – in part – that I don’t remember it all. I do recall it was [horrifying] and frightening. I didn’t realize I wasn’t really there –except that so much didn’t make sense. Things and events were out of place.

But I was stuck there. Time passed much quicker for me than for the rest of my family. From what they’ve told me, the days seemed to pass more slowly than usual.

Several things occurred during that time – a period of about four years. Or maybe five. I’m not 100% certain which.

In any case, I do remember one thing about the nightmare. And that is that each time I prayed amid the chaos of those moments, things improved. I don’t know if those times coincided with [times] of improvement in the physical world, but I do know that calm and a kind of peace came over me. I did not panic as frequently.

Nowadays, I have limitations that are mostly dealt with physically. But I still pray – daily – that I will continue improving. Or at least stay in the condition I now find myself. And so far I have.

The last surgery I had was nearly a decade ago, and I’m still “going strong’, so-to-speak. Sure there are days where I wonder if I may be suffering some type of set back, but all-in-all, God has granted me a life. A life of worth.

I’ve wanted to be a writer/author since I was a teenager. I thought for sure it was God’s plan for me. To be honest, I sometimes think I misread “the signs” He sent my way. After all, if He wanted me to be a writer/author I would be having more success.

But I won’t give up. Not until He shows me plainly that His plan for me is different than I first thought. I used to think maybe He had book covers in the plan, but I’ve doubted that assumption for some time now.

There’s little I can do, since opposing God is like swimming across the Atlantic amid storms, sharks, and other dangers. I can’t swim.

So, I plan to focus very much on my writing. I keep feeling as though I’ve hit a dead-end, but giving up just isn’t something I do. I might talk about it, and threaten to do it, but actually taking action is about as impossible as putting a stop to a tornado.

But I persevere.