Counting the Victories

I've hit another wall. The weather is changing and my body is making me fully aware of that. Pain is near and my body feels worn down. On the days when I'm overwhelmed at how I am continually affected by this accident that shook my body, I have to count the victories. It's the only way I can keep my head up when I feel like I am taking steps backwards. These are just a few of the victories, granted by my Father God, I have had since the beginning:

Waking up in a hospital bed and knowing I'd be okay

Learning how to move myself from a hospital bed to a wheelchair.

Forcing myself to eat (initially liquids) so that my body would get strong.

Sharing the Gospel with hospital workers and telling my hospital roommate that I would pray for her.

Talking through a wired jaw.

Talking in Spanish through a wired jaw.

A release from the hospital.

Learning how to bend my knees again.

Learning how to give myself shots for 2 times a day for 2 months. And saying goodbye to the shots and the bruises they left on my body.

Rolling over in my bed with bandaged legs.

Convincing everyone that I still needed the job and Spain and God graciously allowing me to keep it.

Watching bruises fade away from my arms and face and even now watching the final bruises on my legs fade.

Riding home for 18 hours in a medical transport (it was more like being bumped up and down for 18 hours in the back of a cattle truck)without getting sick. Imagine what problems could've caused with a mouth wired shut.

Facing the shock of people's faces who didn't know me and letting it roll off my back. I didn't look so hot for awhile.

Getting my mouth unwired and hearing my voice for the first time in 6 weeks. Seeing the tears of joy in my mother's eyes as she heard my voice for the first time as well.

Two of my best friends, Christy and Kate, visiting me and watching me eat a soft cookie for the very first food I had eaten since the accident (after my mouth was unwired)

Going to Christmas Eve service with my family even though I was exhausted. Crying at the beauty of the song O Come, O Come Emmanuel and feeling humbled that I should get to sing it.

Sitting on the couch Christmas day.Before this I couldn't transfer myself from my wheelchair to any other chairs. My dad had to lift me to the couch.

Sneaking myself and my wheelchair into my bedroom. Later my dad moved my dressers out of the doorway so I could get in and out.

Maneuvering around the kitchen one afternoon unloading the dishwasher to prove to myself that I could do something small and useful.

Using the sink in my bathroom to practice standing before anyone told me I could get out of my wheelchair.

Walking for the first time.

Saying goodbye to the hospital bed/ makeshift hospital room in our house and finally moving into my bedroom.

Learning to walk around the house with a walker.

Learning to walk around the house without the balance of a walker.

Never having to use a cane. I just couldn’t bring myself to allow that to happen.

Learning to walk up and down stairs.

Learning to bounce on a trampoline.

Wearing normal shoes when the swelling went down enough.

The sores on my legs from the swelling healing, finally.

Going to bed without needing to keep the walker by my bedside.

Waking up and being able to take medicine on my own during the night.

Learning to pray for my friends around the world when the pain kept me up at night.

Praying in battle with my mom and dad every night.

Getting rid of that dumb walker.

Sharing my story of God's work with different churches and youth.

Going to therapy 3 times a week for several hours each session. Making my body my slave each time.

Going to the Hispanic ministry at church every Wednesday and Sunday to learn Spanish.

One Sunday telling my mom I didn't want to go to church or to the Spanish service. She told me if I didn't care enough about learning Spanish I should reconsider if I should really be doing the job I was working to go and do. I sat in my bathroom. Pouted and cried. Then told myself to suck it up and rolled out in my little wheelchair to go to church and to learn Spanish. Victory.

Losing tons of my hair and reminding myself it was a good thing God gave me thick hair.

Finishing some training in VA in March. My first big trip on my own in the airport and all.

Walking around Walmart for about 45 minutes.

Driving for the first time.

Being able to sleep on my belly.

Going to the farm with Dad.

Going to Spain only to get stuck because of a volcano in Munich.

Arriving 5 days later in Spain.

Facing the walking and stairs every day in Spain.

Living with cankles and telling myself that they are cute.

Feeling like I lost my personality in the pain and then realizing who I am is in Christ alone.

Crying out to God and Him answering me.

Hearing people pray for me in moments of despair and God lifting the pain in those moments.

In moments when my legs were too tired to go on feeling someone step into my legs and walk for me.

Having the ability to share God loves with my therapists in Spain. I would not have access to them without my injuries.

Accepting that God's victories and how he has used me these past several months has been about him. Not about me.

Learning perseverance.

Learning patience.

Realizing I'm not alone in a battle like this.

Knowing that I can rest in where God has me even though Satan would like me to put more pressure on myself than necessary.

Gaining a platform that is suffering that allows me to speak into people's lives. Somehow we listen better to those who have hurt.

Running and it hurting like you know what. But doing it anyways.

Seeing that God's reign is not limited by any schemes of the devil in which he would have us be discouraged and believe that God has left us.

He who has begun a good work in me will finish it. AMEN!

I know I have so many more victories than this. This list skims over a few that I have seen and remember. Somehow it feels good to reflect on God's faithfulness within each and every victory. However small or large. I fall at the feet of the victorious king I will always worship.

Standing (literally and figuratively) in His Victory,

Taryn