Whiplash

I have whiplash. It’s not terrible, but my neck is sore and my head is throbbing slightly. Once impact was made, it took me a second to realize what had happened. One minute I was driving home from work on a chilly Friday afternoon dreaming of comfort food and cozy pants, and the next minute my eyes were greeted by a young man in my rearview mirror shaking his head as it hung in his hands.

A little over an hour ago, my gray Honda Civic received a big old bump from behind by an older, more colorful cousin (a 1995 Red Honda Civic). Thankfully, both cars were gracious enough to absorb the brunt of the damage. While my bumper sustained a nice dent, some chipped paint, and semi-removal, I’m grateful that both humans (myself included) walked away seemingly unscathed.

After the officer finally arrived and the police report was made, I drove away with a heightened awareness of both my own driving and that of the people around me. While I consider myself to be a pretty cautious driver to begin with, I couldn’t help but take an even more measured approach to the remainder of my commute. Braking sooner, stopping slower, and double-checking my mirrors, I proceeded with extreme caution.

***

I have whiplash. It’s been awhile since the incident, but it’s definitely still there. In this instance, it’s not from the car accident. No, it actually has nothing to do with automobiles or roadways. The origin of this feeling dates back to late February of this year. A nagging pain in my abdomen finally drove me to schedule an appointment with my doctor. I had been experiencing this unfamiliar pain for a little over a month at this point, and I could tell that something just wasn’t right.

In short, my initial appointment was followed by blood work (my first time having blood drawn if you can believe it!), multiple ultrasounds, an MRI, and a visit to the oncologist’s office. In the very beginning, the shock of the potential severity of the issue hit me like a hard blow. It was disorienting and scary, and like nothing I had ever personally experienced before. Over the course of the next few weeks (and eventually months), small strokes of comfort were offered, each one seeming to confirm that this was not the worst-case scenario that fear had been brewing in my mind. Still, the days felt like weeks and the weeks like months, and by the time it was all said and done, we endured 7 long weeks of waiting and wondering, praying for good results (and by God’s immense grace seeing those prayers answered!).

In the end, I experienced complete elimination of the issue. The source of pain that had served as the catalyst for this entire journey was just… gone. How wonderfully gracious of the Lord. And how incredibly humbling that I had been spared of everything this could have been and could have meant.

Not unlike how I chose to drive my car following today’s accident, after this small scare I found myself proceeding through life in an extremely careful manner. I felt fragile—in a way that kept me from wanting to do anything remotely risky. Safety and awareness became my top priority. I was overly attuned to every ache, every pain, every feeling or move that might jeopardize these newfound values of utmost importance.

If I’m being honest, I still find myself feeling this way every now and again. The whiplash isn’t quite gone. In a way, the events of this spring forced upon me the realization that I am not safe, not entirely immune from anything. Of course I knew this, but I had never before been forced to so seriously confront this stark reality. One call, one test result, one wrong move. That’s all it takes for your world to be flipped upside down and shaken like never before. The abruptness of it all was the most unsettling.

These days I’m trying to live in a way that is the antithesis to what sometimes plays out in my head as a result of fear. It’s ironic to me that an experience that so clearly displayed the fragility of life has left me tiptoeing through my days, as if I can somehow make it out alive in the end. Not happening. Not in this Earthly body anyway.

Instead, I want to live a life that consists of full, rich days—ones that you don’t get by playing scared and staying put. We do only have this one life on Earth—a finite number of days with which we’re free to do what we wish. And more than that, we have a Creator and Savior who has infused meaning into these days; who has given us purpose and bestowed us with gifts that can uniquely contribute to His grand narrative that is and will continue to unfold. The beauty! The significance! The opportunity! And oh, how easily it can all be wasted. Because of fear, because of insecurity, because we don’t let the realty of this fragile life catapult us into all that can be instead of staying stuck in what is only right now.

So instead of preserving—instead of constantly trying to safeguard and protect—I’m choosing to bravely face a world that’s big and scary and full of disease and famine and death. I’m entering into this terrible-wonderful that we call life, not hesitantly, because of those things, but daringly, in spite of them.

Will you join me?