Nothing could prepare me for what happened on April 21, 2025. Once I fell off and hit the ground, I was instantly paralyzed. I remained calm, and alert, each step of the way… until the pain killers kicked in and my subconsciousness kicked in. I don’t remember anything, so I had to ask my BFF, Kim and Mark, my ex-husband (I hate saying ex-husband, I need to come up with a better noun because he’s sooooo much more to me than that!). I digress. I asked Kim, “What was I saying when I was out of it?” and she told me, “You were praying to God that you weren’t paralyzed.” That did not surprise me one bit. My faith was strong before my accident. God had carried me through the pain of losing my dad. I had true testament that God could heal. That God is my strength, and my faith is what kept me going. Until it stopped.
It wasn’t until a few weeks after I was in the hospital when I noticed that my prayers were not working. That each day became a bigger challenge than the next. I remember every morning when I would eat breakfast, I would watch the 700 club. I really enjoyed watching that and hearing people’s healing testimonies. Until one day I questioned “Where was God with my healing?” I was, and still am, so thankful to my church family. I had people praying for me left, right, up and down. I had people tell me that their church was praying for me. I had people reach out directly to tell me they were praying for me. If there was ever a time when I needed prayers, it was then. I remember my friends Kathy and John M sharing with me that they would pray for recovery for me every morning. Until one day John said, “We aren’t praying for the right thing for Shelley, we need to pray for a miracle for her!” That is when the prayers started to change for many. I had an army of people praying for a miracle. But that prayer has yet to be answered.
I found myself growing angrier by the minute at God. Questioning him. Questioning my faith. Questioning for all these years I had done my best to be a disciple for him. Why? I stopped watching the 700 club in the morning. When people would say they were praying for me, I gave a half smile and nodded. I didn’t want people to pray for me anymore. It was a waste of time. I would tell those I was close to, to not pray for me and I remember my BFF Kathy D saying, “Shelley, you can’t ask me to not pray for you, I will keep praying for you.” and that made me angry. I had an army of people praying and for over a year, I did not witness any prayers being answered. Yah, yah, I know that prayers are answered on God’s time, not mine, but I kind of thought what I was going through was a big enough deal to be heard.
Instead of talking to God, I started to talk to my parents. I imagine my parents being sad watching what I was going through. I know if they had been living still, they would not be handling this situation well. For the majority of my life, my purpose was to make my parents proud. There is nothing about what I was going through that I think would make my parents proud. I wasn’t living, I was surviving. Those around me would praise me for making small accomplishments, and my response was always “I don’t have a choice.” I still feel that way today. The progress I’ve made isn’t anything more than just time. I know it wasn’t because of anything God had done for me. The thoughts of God had left my mind. I stopped watching church because I didn’t want to hear scripture. I didn’t want to hear how God is the way, God loves each one of us, God this, God that. I was content with where I was and that was angry.
That lasted up until about two months ago. My dog, Khara, has had bladder cancer and a plethora of other health issues for the past 2 years. I noticed one day that she really started to decline. She was squatting to pee, and nothing was coming out. There was blood mixed with urine on some of her puppy pads. She was tired all the time and just wasn’t herself. Mark and I had the talk about what the end-of-life plan would be for her. I even messaged him twice thinking it was time. He would take her for a few days to give me an emotional break because I was a mess. Depressed doesn’t describe the hurt I was feeling just thinking about not having her in my life. Then, day by day, I started to see the spark come back. As this progressed, I started to pray for God to not take her from me. I wasn’t ready. I had loss so much, I could not live with losing her too. I prayed, and I prayed and today, she is still ill, but not near as close to death as she was. My prayers were answered.
From then, I started to pray for my friends. I wasn’t quite ready to start asking more of God because I didn’t want to become disappointed again. Then it happened…one God wink here; another God wink there. I slowly started to see again how God is showing up. Now, I know some of you are thinking “Shelley, God has always been there for you, you just don’t always get to see what his plan is.” That may be true, but during the worst time of my life, I needed to see something. I didn’t see or feel anything. I still question “Why God wasn’t there to help prevent my accident?” I’m human. It’s a valid question. Until I know of the answer, day by day, I will continue to rebuild my relationship with God until someday, I will know why.
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