what if I told you...
What if I told you that I almost went to bed a widow last Friday night?
Tim was on his way from Addis to Soddo to be part of this year’s PAACS graduation ceremony and pack up things in our house for an upcoming trip to America.
What if I told you he was hit head on by a large Isuzu truck that veered into his lane? He hit the brakes and turned hard to the right trying to get off the road and out of the path of the out of control truck, but he couldn't.
What if I added that the front of our car was mangled and smashed? He was alone with no help in a place with no emergency ambulance transport. A gash on his forehead bleeding down his face, black eye, fractured rib, broken foot. And he climbed out the passenger window because doors wouldn't open and sat there on the side of the road, surrounded by people who had gathered around to help and see, and he called me...
And what if I told you that in the months leading up to this accident, we have been more stressed than ever--interpersonal conflict, work pressures, cumulative build up of various stressors from our six years here. What do we do? Rest? Quit? Sabbatical? Move?
Sabbatical, yes, let's do that. Let's take some space from the pressures, reflect, process, heal, and ask God to show us how to move forward. Yes, let's do that. Mid-January? Yes, then Tim can be part of PAACS graduation in December, help with onboarding of new faculty surgeons, and welcome the new residents starting in January.
We'll have two months left before we leave for sabbatical, and those months can be filled with beloved friends who are coming to visit, advent traditions, a short book study with the PAACS ladies Bible study, Tim passing off his responsibilities and hopefully wrapping things up with intention and leaving for this time away well.
One day I take out a sheet of blank paper and brainstorm about advent season--what are our traditions again? Oh right, an advent wreath, daily(ish) readings, decorating the tree while eating pigs in a blanket, caroling at our Ethiopian colleague's homes, gingerbread houses, and more.
That Christmas planning paper made it into my bag, and I pulled it out and chuckled in a guest apartment where we were staying in Addis Ababa a few days later--with no supplies to make an advent wreath, no molasses to make gingerbread, no Christmas tree and ornaments, and no colleagues to sing carols to.
A few short days after writing those things down and setting intentions for the next two months, we were told to evacuate from Soddo for the third time. The first two times were related to unrest, and this one was because of an outbreak of a deadly virus called Marburg.
It was six days from the time we first heard that there was a viral hemorrhagic fever in Ethiopia to the day we left Soddo and drove to Addis. Those days were full of hearing different information from different sources, googling what on earth Marburg virus is, what do we do with Tim's shoes and scrubs he wore in the hospital, can we handle this stress on top of the other stress, how guilty will we feel if we leave, and on and on.
In the end our organization advised us to leave, so we did. Pack up school stuff, a couple weeks in Addis to wait it out and then hopefully we can return.
Get to Addis, warm welcome from old friends, buy an advent wreath at a Christmas bazaar, battle bad internet with the kids doing online school, and face all the questions about our short-term uncertainty and our long-term uncertainty. Try to help the kids have fun. Try to make the places we're staying feel like home and feel like Christmas.
A couple of weeks in Addis turns into more weeks in Addis as we realize the outbreak won't be declared over for more weeks. Oh wow, I didn't pack for this, I didn't expect this, my imported deodorant is running out, and I didn't know those last two months in Soddo would be taken away like this.
PAACS graduation is scheduled for December 13--should it happen as scheduled? The graduates are preparing, their families are traveling, no new cases in Soddo, seems ok. But what if it's not wise, what if more cases pop up, what if we should wait? It is decided that it should happen, and Tim decides to go. With caution, not doing clinical work, but will go to be part of the graduation of these surgeons who he interviewed years ago and who he has been with for these five years. He will video call me from our house and ask me what I want to pack for America--warm sweaters, boots, homeschool books I didn't pack for the "two" weeks in Addis.
He leaves on Friday morning for graduation on Saturday. Before he gets on the road, he takes the kids and me to the third place we'll be staying in Addis--the beautiful home of generous friends who are traveling. I settle in, thankful to be in this home and looking forward to a fun weekend with the kids to explore the neighborhood.
Wow, there's been a lot of change and craziness in the last few weeks. I need to tend to my heart. Put a movie on for the kids so I can have some quiet...what should I do with the quiet? Maybe I'll do this advent prayer video I missed from last week. Sad, the recording isn't public and I have to email and request it. What else could I do? Oh right, I also missed the Velvet Ashes Advent Mini-Retreat. I enjoyed that last year, so why don't I pull it up and do that?
I settle into a comfy spot with a bottle of cold water, a heating pad on my tense neck, my laptop beside me to play the video and journal in my lap. I love these retreats and how they hold my hand and lead me into deeper communion with God.
This one talks about hindsight--defined as the understanding of a situation or event only after it has happened or developed. The people in the Christmas story wouldn't understand the meaning of what was happening in real time--they would only understand it in hindsight. That's similar in our lives. We love understanding things, but often we don't understand things as they happen. Hindsight.
Journaling session one--write about times in your life when you have had no idea what God was doing or didn't understand why something hard was happening, write about how you felt during those times and what your interaction with God was like, write about what you learned about God in hindsight. Warm heating pad on my neck, putting pen to paper and writing about my parent's divorce, our miscarriage before Ruthie, panic attacks in Soddo, two evacuations. Reflecting on how hard those things were, and also how God worked in them and through them. The ways I grew, the things I learned about Him, the way my faith deepened. Hindsight.
Journaling session two--what is something happening in your life right now that you don't understand? Oh wow, I can answer this question! Why is life in Soddo so hard right now? What does our future hold? How long will we be in limbo? Why were our last two months there taken away? What is the purpose of these moving-around weeks in Addis?
I can see the arc of what's happening here...the push to apply what we've learned through past hard experiences to the current experiences that we don't yet understand at all. Why is this happening? Why is this like this? Why is God doing this? Look back, trust, one day hindsight will come. One day we'll be on the other side of this and look back at it with hindsight.
Would you believe me if I said that at that moment...he called me. At that moment, when I was thinking those things, when I was reflecting on God's faithfulness in the past and trying to apply that to our current struggles, he called me.
"I'm ok, but I've been in a really bad accident. Our car is gone. I could've died but I'm ok."
Shock, sobs, gasping for air. What do I do? Who do I call? I stay in the room where I've been retreating, kids still watching movie, waiting to be more calm before I tell the kids. I tell them, and we cry together.
From what I wrote at the outset of this, it seems very bad. And it was very bad.
But what if I told you that the accident happened ten minutes from a hospital where a PAACS graduate works? Tim called him right after he called me, and Dr. Leul ran to his car to come and get Tim off the side of the road. The doctor who owns the hospital jumped in the car too, and he stayed with the car to talk to the police and get our stuff out of the car while Dr. Leul took Tim to the hospital.
What if I told you that two other cars were on their way to Soddo that day too...a family like us returning there after evacuating for Marburg, and the Soddo Christian Hospital CEO with a hospital van driver. Both were ahead of Tim on the road but turned around when they heard and joined Tim at the hospital.
What if I told you that a surgeon who Tim trained sewed up the cut on his head from the broken windshield? That that surgeon did a trauma workup to make sure there weren't any serious injuries. That that surgeon used what he learned from Tim and others to take care of Tim in his time of immense need.
What if I told you that those friends texted me updates and video called from our stuff to ask what should go to Soddo and what should stay with Tim?
What if I told you that a friend in Addis picked up the kids and me so we wouldn't be alone? That we spent the day with them, beautifully supported and distracted.
What if I told you that the front of the car was mangled and smashed, but the passenger compartment was nearly intact? That a fraction of a second or a fraction of an angle difference would have made the large truck smash into the driver-side door instead of the sturdy front?
What if I told you that Tim has always said that the most dangerous thing we do in Ethiopia is drive?
Tim spent the night at the home of the doctor who owns the hospital and received beautiful Ethiopian hospitality. So much time to reflect and thank God for protecting his life. On Saturday, an ambulance brought him to Addis, to us.
I could've become a widow last Friday, but I didn't. Tim could've died last Friday, but he didn't.
I could've done any number of things during that time when the kids were watching a movie...I could've scrolled Instagram or eaten chips or done an expense report or unpacked or watched the first thing I tried to watch. But in God's sovereignty, I didn't do any of those things.
I pushed play on the video retreat that would lead me into reflecting on His faithfulness in suffering. I wrote about the suffering I've gone through in the past and the suffering we're going through now. And with God caring for me by putting my heart in that exact place, this new suffering entered.
I don't have hindsight on this yet, and maybe I never will. I don't know why this horrific wreck happened. I don't know what God is doing in us through this. But I know that I know that I know that He was with both of us, that He is faithful, and that we can trust Him. Those used to just sound like things that Christians say, and now they sound like strong, immovable pillars that I am shoving deep into the ground of my heart.
So what if I told you that He really IS with us?
That He really IS faithful?
That He really CAN be trusted?
Can we believe it together even when we can't see? Even when we don't understand? Can we trust together that one day, some day, hindsight really will come on every hard thing we've ever experienced? That in His sovereignty, nothing is wasted when everything works for good.
What if I told you as I sit by my beat-up, pain-ridden husband sleeping on the couch, I'm going to keep fighting to believe? Maybe we can do that together?