Journal Entry 3/24 From Kristi
March 20 was four months since Zac’s accident. At times, it seems surreal to be this far into it now, and daily, if I allow myself to consider it, the future is daunting. But seeing God guide us step by step this far reminds us that He will continue to lead us one day at a time. God does not change. But joyful survival is always a discipline of where I allow my thoughts to land - “taking every thought captive to make it obedient to Christ.” 2 Cor. 10:5
On Friday, we went to our first live church service since November. It was actually an evening of worship, put on by Red Rocks Worship Band, who are local to Denver. The Band heard word of Zachary and invited him to come out, even though all of the tickets had been distributed. So blessed.
When we arrived at the church, we got in line with the hundreds of others waiting for the concert... so strange to feel “different” as Zac rolled along in line in his chair... but he doesn’t want special preference so he was happy to be in line.
We entered the packed lobby, greeted instantly by a host who knew we were coming, and escorted us to seats they had saved for us in the isle... the only level ground in the sanctuary for all other seats required steps. Steps always make my heart a little anxious now - they seem like an accessible path from a lifetime ago.
The lights dimmed, worship music began, and the people instantly stood as one, excited to worship. My heart seized. Here we go; for the first time in this journey, it felt I would have to take a different path than Zac. Spencer, on Zac’s right, stood up to worship. I, on Zac’s left, gave him two quick pats on his back, perhaps as a reminder that I was still “with him” and then I stood up too. He was the only one in the entire sanctuary still sitting.
The lights were down low, praise music filling the room, and I could no longer hold the tears back. Four months of tears. Four months of questions. Four months of praise.
I wrestled with the injustice of it all - me being able to worship God freely while my son remained bound.
And after four months of “walking” this journey together, it felt as if we were finally having to take our separate paths in how we would worship the Lord. I standing, raising my hands. Zachary sitting, not able to even raise his hands, for his triceps are still too week to sustain them up for long.
Song after song we all (minus one) stood in worship. I worshiped and cried, knowing full well that Zachary would have to figure out his own way to worship God now.
The lyrics of one particular song struck my heart: “A million angels fall, face down on the floor, All to echo Holy is the Lord....” and I realized that Zac was much closer to falling on the floor in worship than I was while standing. The Lord gently reminded me that Zachary will figure out how to worship God in his own way... and it will be just as glorious - probably even greater - than a room full of worshippers standing in adoration to God with arms lifted high.
At the close of the evening, the people all filed out, and a young seven year old girl walked up to Zac, smiling and silently pointing to his chair... she was autistic and did not say a word, but stared at Zac in fascination. Her mother quickly told us her daughter had been in a wheelchair a few weeks earlier. I smiled and said to her, “so you and Zac are wheelchair buddies!” She seemed delighted at the concept. And then as they walked away, we saw her move very slowly with a strong limp. She became a beautiful sight of hope.
The lead singers of Red Rock Worship came up to say hi to Zac as well. They were so kind and asked him about his accident; they were very encouraging, telling us they had just been in Brookings a month before his injury. It was a sweet way to end the evening.
“and they fell on their faces before the throne and worshiped God” (Rev 7:11)