Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Last Night at the Hospital

Last night, I visited a friend at the hospital. He took Flight 13 off the back of a horse who was stung by a bee (or two or three). He got back on his horse and rode for a mile or so, but then he had to get off again and lie down. He had broken his back.

His horse crash story now tops any of mine, hooves down.

After two nights in the hospital, they did surgery on him on Monday, screwing his M12 vertebrae back together and fusing it with its neighbor with six screws. I saw the x-rays. They were eerie, but awesome at the same time. It's a guy thing.

My friend was flat on his back and in some considerable pain. He was talking about his new job and wondering if his boss would let him recover and continue his training, or if he would just say he had to move on.

Then my friend said this:
"Either way, everything will be okay."
Those words rang my bell, and I told him why.

When you get to the point where you accept where you are and who you are, and it doesn't matter what comes your way, and you just believe that things will be okay, to me, that is remarkable faith.

It struck me in the moment that what my friend had achieved in his faith was part of the reason why we come to this life, to learn that very lesson—that no matter what life throws at you, or even what curve balls you throw yourself, things can be okay again. Things can be better. We can be healed and made whole. We can recover. We can stand up again. We can choose to not give up.

It was an inspiring moment. I hope I never forget it, because I could be flat on my back tomorrow just as well as he.

The more time you spend flat on your back, though, the more time you spend looking up. And that's a good direction to be looking.

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