Our granddaughter asked for a spare notebook, so I checked the cupboard where I kept old school supplies from years ago. I found a vinyl spiral-bound notebook, flipped through it, removing pages I had written on, and gave it to her.

I discovered, on those pages from long ago, that I had begun an exercise journal ten years earlier, working out a detailed plan to get in shape and eat healthier. This plan included riding a bike to work. The date triggered a memory; it was two months prior to the day I would be hit by a car on the very bike meant to help me achieve this.

Today is the anniversary of the day I was hit eleven years ago.

That morning, I was excited to ride my new bike and commence work on the new and improved me. Just fifteen minutes later—I was a new me, alright, lying face down on the pavement unconscious, with seventeen fractures, road rash, and presumed dead on the scene.

So much for my plan.

I had no idea what was coming that morning as I rode away; I couldn’t have. My well-detailed plans and goals almost felt like a cruel joke in hindsight—get too consumed about your body image and splat you’re roadkill.

It would be months before I could walk without a walker or back brace, and even standing for short periods would leave my back on fire. My 2-week-old, brand new bike was mangled and remained in custody at the police precinct until the case was closed. I didn’t care; I would never choose to ride again.

Remembering that morning isn’t rehashing a nightmare in a masochistic ritual. Sometimes bad things happen when we least expect them. The real indicator of character is the next step you take.

God doesn’t waste our wounds. It’s not the weight of the burden, but how we choose to carry it that matters. Approaching the unplanned burdens in my life with the conviction that they serve a purpose makes all the difference. Am I just a hapless victim who gets everything bad? Or am I challenged to go beyond my limited capabilities and, with God, lean into His strength?  

I’ll admit it took time to choose the latter, and from it I learned to rely on God, my spouse, and my family. I learned to ask for help, something I am terrible at, to accept somebody else’s way of doing things instead of my own, and let myself receive their love and assistance. That challenge, coupled with the intense pain, stretched my weak, “suffering muscle”, growing it stronger over time.

I don’t wish it had never happened because a valuable lesson was learned about myself: the art of conquering physical, spiritual, and mental mountains with God’s help.

God is our refuge and our strength, an ever-present help in distress. PS 46:2

It’s weird that the dates that stick most in my mind were either incredibly happy or almost cost my life. Maybe it’s because they made an imprint, because of how I stepped beyond them. Like an invisible line in the sand, I moved beyond my small self-imposed limits. When I received them in a spirit of acceptance from the Good God who, in His Providence, allowed them to intersect my life, I gained something.

Each person, place, or event matters. Nothing is random or coincidental. Approach each day with an open heart and mind, ready to receive what the Lord will allow, and trust that no matter the difficulty, you will benefit.

Reminding myself of one of the hardest, scariest days of my life helps me put everyday life into proper perspective. Life is short, live it in a manner worthy of heaven.