Walk On
Walk On
Five years later, life continued on. I was working for Easter Seals coaching teens with Autism on life skills and independent living and enjoying it very much. My youngest daughter was in junior high, and my oldest was in high school. My husband still came and went, usually preoccupied with his own interests, so the girls and I had adapted to doing most things on our own. Through all that had happened over the past two decades, the one constant I cherished was my relationship with my daughters. We were incredibly close, and they always brightened my day.
Another source of joy was my newfound freedom to pursue my own connection with God. I no longer felt obligated to follow anyone else’s path; I could allow God to lead me. One night, I had a dream where I walked through a serene forest by a lake, feeling completely at peace. I was headed somewhere important, though I wasn’t sure where. When I woke up, I felt a renewed sense of purpose, as if I was on the right track, which felt completely opposite of the feeling I had in my previous wildflower field dream. I don’t often remember my dreams, but occasionally, like this one and the earlier dream in the field, I would have a vivid dream that felt significant.
For my birthday, I received a coffee mug that read, "Be Still... The Lord is fighting for you; you need only to be still." It was a lovely message, and coincidentally, it mirrored what a friend had given me on a bookmark the week before. I thought, this must be my theme for the year. Little did I know how true that would become when everything changed one night while driving to Target. A deer suddenly jumped in front of my car, and I slammed into it, sending my world spinning...
This incident occurred in November 2019. Initially, I didn’t think I was hurt; my main concern was the damage to my car. However, a week later, I began experiencing excruciating pain in my head, as if someone had hit me with a baseball bat. Everything from the neck up hurt, even swallowing. I felt dizzy, and my vision became distorted. At times, I thought I might blackout; occasionally, I experienced vertigo. It was terrifying, and I struggled to understand what was happening. I kept thinking about going to the doctor, but I didn’t know how to explain what had happened. I remember asking God what was going on, and suddenly, it all clicked—I remembered hitting the deer.
I started physical therapy for whiplash and got an MRI, as my doctor suspected I might have a concussion. The MRI results were normal, and while physical therapy helped, I still felt dizzy, lightheaded, and had a constant headache.
Nights were particularly difficult. Lying down intensified the throbbing, and my vision worsened in the dark, leading to a disorienting sensation of falling, even while lying still. This spiraled into extreme anxiety and panic attacks. I had experienced panic during my battle with cancer, but nothing compared to this. The overwhelming darkness made it a struggle not to let fear take over. Eventually, I managed to calm myself and return to bed, but I dreaded the nights ahead. The days weren’t much better, and the only thing that kept me going was the hope that things would eventually improve. Thankfully, there were fleeting moments—literal moments—when I felt okay. Those brief interludes gave me hope that if I could feel normal for even a minute, perhaps I would start to feel better for longer and ultimately heal.
I made it through the winter, and then the pandemic hit. In some ways, it was a blessing; life slowed down, allowing me more time to rest. However, it also introduced new stress and uncertainty, exacerbating my condition. Two weeks into the pandemic, we experienced an earthquake here in Utah. I kid you not, when the room began swaying, I panicked, thinking it was another dizzy spell. It was a sad moment when I felt relief to discover it was just an earthquake rather than a new physical symptom—this was six months after the accident. Every morning, though, I would sip my coffee from that favorite mug, reminding me to "Be Still." It brought me calm and reassured me that I would be okay.
I had another significant dream during this time. In it, I was walking through a bustling city like New York, where I noticed homeless people lying on the ground everywhere. I felt a deep desire to help them, but my mind was too foggy to do anything. Looking down at the bag I carried, I felt reassured—I had everything I needed in that bag. But when I looked up for a moment, my bag was gone. Panic set in; I thought, “Oh no. Now I've really lost everything.” Just then, I noticed a man across the street. He stood out from the crowd, resembling Cinna from The Hunger Games. He seemed important and aware of my situation. When our eyes met, he motioned for me to come over and revealed that he had my bag, wrapped up as if he had been protecting it for me. I thought, “He’s protecting my life.”
When I turned to see if I could cross the street, he had vanished, but my bag was still there, waiting for me. As I picked it up, I wished he had stayed because I wanted to talk with him—I sensed he had important insights to share. When I woke up, this dream felt like a message of encouragement. Whenever I worried that things might not get better, I remembered this dream and the image of something divine giving me my life back, which filled me with hope and kept me going.
As I mentioned, by this point in my life my anxiety had reached an all time high. These small encouragements that let me know I would be okay were helpful, however, it was still hard to manage from day to day when I was in so much pain much of the time. Eventually I realized, if I was going to get better and truly heal I had to learn how to manage it. I thought about everything God had said to me so far... He told me to be still, relax, take it slow, and rest. As I made it a daily practice to focus on all of these things I began to slowly get better, and learn to take control of my anxiety. When I could feel my anxiety start to rise I would slow my breathing, relax my muscles, and focus on being still. Looking back I can see now that I was being taught an important skill. Instead of saving me from drowning, He was teaching me how to swim, which would prove invaluable in the years to come.
One of the most helpful things during this time was taking my dog, Bella, for walks. I usually went to a nearby park at sunset, listening to music as I strolled. Rather than dwelling on complaints (which I did plenty of), I focused on what I was learning through all of this, holding onto the belief that the God I knew would guide me through. I clung to the glimmers of hope I was given and took it one day at a time. I remember reading that "Be Still" doesn’t mean to remain inactive; it means to move in peace. Although it took a couple of years to fully recover from my accident, I learned to listen to that reassuring voice urging me to keep going, encouraging me to Walk On...
Bella
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