Holding Onto Faith: The Story

You know those moments in life where time stands still and you can’t really believe what you’re seeing, but you’re also powerless to stop what’s unfolding? 

That was me last August. 

*Before you continue reading, just a heads-up that this story touches on a traumatic season in our family, including injury and emotional struggle. I’ve shared honestly, but with care and without graphic detail.

What started as a project day full of excitement because we had “big equipment” home and were taking care of a problem tree turned into catastrophe in the final stretches.

This was not any tree. We think it was on the property from the beginning. Over 130 years ago. The soft maple, over five feet in diameter, had been losing life for a while. Just a couple months prior, a two foot thick limb broke off and landed where we parked our vehicles.

By God’s grace, my SUV was in the autoshop otherwise it would have been totaled (never so thankful for a repair bill). The truck had several new dents, dings, and a few missing trim pieces, but was still operable.

That was “the last straw,” so we arranged to rent some equipment, gathered some helping hands, and planned to remove the offending maple tree.

The day had been progressing well and everything was running smoothly. Some new friends stopped by and the kids were enjoying play time in the back yard. The monstrous maple was gone. It was pretty much hollow inside, and boy, did the front yard look different!

There were a few other branches in the same area, not nearly as high to trim up, so the guys moved ahead to the next spot, just next to the pasture. 

Up went the basket, trimmed a branch, used hand signals to direct positioning, trimmed another branch, more hand signals. 

Then like some nightmare the entire lift tipped forward in slow motion – with my husband in the basket, not realizing what was happening.

By the time he turned around to question the positioning of the basket, it was too late.

From where I was standing, I couldn’t quite see all that transpired next. 

Just a sinking feeling in my gut after realizing he hadn’t been able to jump off soon enough. 

The kids saw everything and ran away screaming.

I started to run forward, saw Jason stumbling through the field, his right hand holding onto his left in an unusual way, gray face, crimson fabric and liquid in places it shouldn’t be.

A helping neighbor got to him faster, so I hightailed it into the house to gather:

• my purse & phone
• towels (grabbed a kitchen one, chucked it on the floor, this called for a bath towel)
• apple (anticipating a blood sugar cash, funny what you think of)
• water (couldn’t easily grab one, moving on)

My hands were trembling profusely as I slid into the driver’s seat, fumbling to grab the phone out of my purse so the person riding with us could call ahead. 

Jason asked if I was ok to drive. I paused, asked God to be my hands and feet and tossed my phone in the back. I pulled into reverse with steady hands, and focused on listening to his breathing to mitigate hyperventilating if needed, which it was. (Jason mentioned later that my years racing were not lost. It might have been noted I was cresting three digits on some corners. It’s amazing how your brain flips a switch.)

The next several hours were a blur between waiting, poking and prodding, x-rays, me praying Jason wouldn’t pass out, me walking away so I wouldn’t toss my cookies, more waiting, lots of questions. 

What happened? Short story- the full weight of everything (basket, boom, lift itself) had crushed his left hand in a way that bent his wrist into an unnatural position.

Could he move all his fingers? No. Only his thumb.

Was there feeling in all the fingers? Yes, praise God!

Did we know what the white thing sticking out of the wrist laceration was? Yes – we’ve butchered enough animals to know it was a tendon.

Could we guess the finger was broken? Yes – the open laceration there made it fairly obvious.

There’s also a bone chip missing on the ulna. Ok.

Did we understand a specialist would probably be needed and we’d be sent home with superficial stitches just to keep things together enough? Um, yep.

Ok, then, they’ll call you sometime Monday to schedule an appointment. Super.

Amazingly, no other bones were broken, just massive amounts of swelling and bruising.

The initial appointment with the specialists went much the same. It was obvious one tendon was severed. Exploratory surgery could be an option if we wanted it, which we absolutely did since he still couldn’t move the majority of his fingers. 

We went home and waited another couple days for surgery, praying for minimal damage and quick recovery.

Although this was probably the tip of the iceberg, it didn’t feel as hard as what followed after surgery five days later. That’s really where the anchors of my faith were tested.

It’s really easy to claim we have faith and demonstrate it when life’s waters are placid. 

It’s a whole nother thing, when rippling waves emerge and then turn into crashing tidal waves.

I’m not sharing this story for pity or personal attention. If anything, you’ll see how I fell short in many ways.

But I do want to draw attention to God and His presence, which prevented me from drowning.

Being on the other side now, there are several things I’d love to share with you that helped me along the way. Things that made holding onto faith through trauma a blessing in disguise for me.  

In the next couple posts, I’ll share the various stages of emotional healing I went through, how all of this ultimately strengthened my faith, ways I saw God provide, and why I waited a while to share this story. 

Thank you for allowing me this space to share!

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