Where Soul Meets Fire: A Story of Love and Living the Life Waiting for You
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About this ebook
Read the actual e-mails sent each night chronicling her daughters condition. It would be a long month before Jessica would truly awaken from her coma. Share their experiences and discover what they learned. Along their journey, Paulas mom is diagnosed with dementia, and Paula herself with breast cancer. Supported by family and friends, they find their faith strengthened as they overcome the odds.
Follow three generations as time after time, one more miracle is graciously granted. Told with humor and encouragement, their story will be an inspiration for all.
Paula Whaley Griggs
Paula Whaley Griggs wrote Where Soul Meets Fire after her daughter sustained a traumatic brain injury in a car wreck in 2004. Sending out e-mails each night chronicling her daughter’s recovery, she was encouraged to write about the miracles her family experienced as her oldest child recovered and accepted God’s plans for her life. Not long after her daughter’s wreck, Paula’s mother was diagnosed with dementia, and Paula herself with breast cancer. Advocating for prevention of TBI and early diagnoses of Alzheimer’s disease and breast cancer, Paula desires for her story to be an inspiration to anyone confronting life’s challenges. She believes in being knowledgeable, proactive, and obstinate. Writing with humor and encouragement, she seeks to help others going through similar situations. In her spare time, she enjoys sewing, reading mystery and suspense novels, going to estate sales, traveling, and spending time with her family. She lives in Leeds, Alabama.
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Where Soul Meets Fire - Paula Whaley Griggs
Copyright © 2015 by Paula Whaley Griggs.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2015900534
ISBN: Hardcover 978-1-5035-3424-7
Softcover 978-1-5035-3425-4
eBook 978-1-5035-3426-1
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.
Scripture quotations marked MSG are taken from The Message. Copyright © 1993, 1994, 1995, 1996, 2000, 2001, 2002, 2003 by Eugene H. Peterson. Used by permission of NavPress Publishing Group. Website.
Scripture quotations marked NIV are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®. NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved. [Biblica]
Scripture quotations marked NLT are taken from the Holy Bible, New Living Translation, copyright © 1996, 2004, 2007. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc. Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved. Website
Scripture quotations marked TLB are taken from The Living Bible copyright © 1971. Used by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc., Carol Stream, Illinois 60188. All rights reserved.
Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.
Rev. date: 01/26/2015
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CONTENTS
PART ONE
Marathon
The Runner
Migraines And Growing Pains November 21, 2004
This Is How A Heart Breaks
Animal, Mineral, Or Vegetable
Storms
While You Were Sleeping Healing While In The Coma
Home Away From Home
Empowerment And The Psych Unit
Stormy Nights, Cloudy Days
The True Gift Of Christmas
Yellow Ribbons
Angels—1, Demons—0
The Little White Jeep
PART TWO
Experiences And
What We Have Learned
New Beginnings
The Greatness Of Small Things
The Junkyard
Glazed Donuts And Oatmeal Mush: This Is The Breakfast Of Champions
Meet Me At The River
The Rabbit Hole And The Wizard
Weebles Wobble, But They Don’t Fall Down
Life 101 And Other Things Mother Never Told You
My Friend Jack
Trading Places
Healing Waters
The Gatekeeper Has Escaped!
Where There’s Smoke
Green Army Tanks And Combat Gear
Losing My Mind And Other Things
Disturbed—Do Not
Broken Bones, Broken Minds, And Broken Hearts
It Only Takes A Second To Change A Life
Love Potion Number 9: The Magic Bullet
The Patient Presents
Hell-Bent To Heaven
Plane Crashes, Lost Lives, And Mental Meltdowns
Nothing In Life Is Black And White, Except The Crayons
The Shepherd Watches Over Me
Nashville Stars
Full Circle
The Phoenix
PART 3
Shoes Too Large To Fill
Getting Lost Along The Way
How Close Can You Get To The Edge And Not Fall Off?
Run, Run, Run. Run Away.
What Ifs, If Onlys, Should Haves, And Forgiveness
The Well Versus The Cave
Legacy
PART 4
’Til Death Do Us Part: Now Where’s My Gun?
Changes
The Dragon
PART 5
Looking Forward
The Marathon
Empowerment
Advocacy
Healed, Whole, And Home
Heroes And Caped Crusaders
PART 6
Resources
Websites
Suggested Reading
For my two precious daughters, Jessica and Lindsey,
and to my loving parents, Ray and Deena Whaley.
Before they call, I will answer.
—Isaiah 65:24 (NIV)
We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned so as to have the life that is waiting for us.
—Joseph Campbell, American author
cross1.jpgPART ONE
Marathon
THE RUNNER
IT’S SLIGHTLY AFTER seven as I settle at the dining table to eat breakfast and look out over the front of the house. The sun is out, but the dew still clings to the flowers and grass as I begin my morning. Gazing up the street, I see her. Running. Dressed in black shorts, a tank top, and tennis shoes. Her long legs lengthen in stride as she begins her ascent up the slight incline. Her hair blows as she runs. Her arms pump back and forth as she paces herself. If you didn’t know to look, you would almost miss it. The left arm tucked slightly closer to the torso than the right, a barely noticeable difference in her gait. My heart catches in my throat. It never fails to take my breath away. The runner reaches the cul-de-sac and begins her descent. She alters walking and running as she completes her morning routine. The miracle I observe is never lost on me. It is never taken for granted. The runner is my child, my oldest daughter. Not too long ago, this child of mine, this gift of God, lay in a coma. An accident turned her world and her family’s upside down.
Sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way you plan. Sometimes it’s not even close. Tragedy can cut you to the core. Only things that are truly important matter. Like the goldsmith who works with precious metals, refining them in fire to their purest stage, life can take you to your very core, where you go when all resources are exhausted. You think you will surely perish from the flames—from the hurt, the suffering, the sorrow, the grief. It’s the place where it’s only you and your most spiritual beliefs. It’s where you find out what you truly believe in and what you’re truly made of. It’s the place, the place where soul meets fire.
MIGRAINES AND GROWING PAINS
November 21, 2004
THE THUNDER RUMBLES, and the windows seem to rattle with its vibrations. I hear the rain fall softly and reach for the clock. It’s still fairly early. Garry’s gone dirt-bike riding out of town. You probably can’t even tell it’s raining in the woods. The trees block the water from reaching the ground. My head beats in rhythm to the pounding of the weather. I know if I don’t get up and take something for my headache, soon I’ll have a full-blown migraine.
The house is quiet and peaceful. I throw on jeans and a T-shirt and head toward the kitchen. The girls are stirring but not quite awake yet. Maybe I won’t go to church today. It would be a good day to catch up on paperwork, clean the house, and spend some time with the kids. Jessica has papers she needs to take to a classmate. Her group has a project due soon. Hopefully, she won’t have to study all day.
I walk outside to grab the newspaper. It’s heavy and dripping wet. So much for that. I’ll get a copy when I take Jessica to drop off her papers. Inside, everyone is waking up. The moods are not the best. I love living with teenage girls! My girls are fifteen and sixteen. They’re seventeen months apart but only one grade apart in school. They’ve always been the best of friends, and they’ve always had each other. We got really lucky when it came to our children. They are typical teenagers, but they’re really good kids. Jessica is a junior at the Jefferson County International Baccalaureate School, or JCIB as they call it. Lindsey is a sophomore at Shades Valley High School and the Art Academy. I work in the office at Shades Valley. We’re on the same campus, but most people never put us together. We don’t even see each other until the end of the day, when the girls wait on me to get off work. So far, the arrangement has worked well for us all.
Jessica is moving too slow for me this morning, so I decide to drive into town to get my paper. I’ll come back and get her later. We live in Leeds, a community east of Birmingham. I love living here. It has the quaint feel of a small town but is only fifteen to twenty minutes from several larger cities in any direction. All the niceties of a suburb with all the conveniences close by.
The rain has stopped as I am coming home and pulling into the driveway. Jessica is walking out to her car, papers in hand. Do you want me to take you to your friend’s house?
I ask her. No, I do not,
she replies curtly. She gets into her car as I get out of mine. So much for a good start. As I enter the garage, I think, Please watch over her, Lord. I shake my head. I’ve always wished two things for my girls: let them be happy and let them be healthy. Sounds fairly simple, doesn’t it? Things will be better when she gets back. We’ll both have time to get in a better mood. I’ll fix pancakes, and we’ll play a board game—and life will be as good as it gets. I opt to tackle the paperwork that clutters my bedroom dresser while she’s gone. I’ve got plenty of time to fix pancakes.
THIS IS HOW A HEART BREAKS
I’VE MADE SOME headway on the stacks of paperwork when Lindsey brings the phone into the bedroom. I’ve lost track of time. I answer, and a young man asks to speak to Paula’s mother. I tell him that I am Paula. I don’t think much about this as my mother stayed with us when she had surgery in the past. He must have the phone numbers mixed up. He tells me there is a young girl in a white jeep that has been in a car accident and I need to come quickly. I say that it’s my daughter Jessica.
Everything in my world seems to slow, like in a dream. Nothing outside exists except the bubble I feel like I’m in. I ask him how to get there. He gives me directions to a location about two miles from the house. It’s not the way I had pictured Jessica taking as she left the house. As I hang up the phone, I grab jackets, my purse, and keys and yell to Lindsey in a voice that doesn’t seem like mine. I tell her to get dressed, grab a jacket, and come with me. I call my brother, who lives next door, on my cell phone and tell him about the call and to meet me at the end of his driveway. He must come with me as I don’t know what has happened. None of this seems real. The young man made it sound urgent. Lindsey and I get in the van, and again, I’m on the phone, calling Jennifer, my best friend, to call Garry and tell him to come home. We stop for Alan, and he gets into the van—and we go to the wreck site.
Leaving our neighborhood, we turn left and go about a mile, where the road intersects with Highway 119. It’s a two-lane road that runs east to town and west to Highway 280. Both roads are straight at this point of intersection. Callaway’s Country Corner Store sits on the left corner. Across the street on 119 from the store is what used to be a BBQ restaurant that is now a small car lot owned by a neighbor of ours. To the left of the car lot is a home. I can’t turn onto 119; the road is blocked by a lane of traffic stopped by a policeman. I pull as far as I can into Callaway’s parking lot, tell Lindsey and Alan to wait in the car, jump out, and run across the street, weaving through stopped cars in both directions.
Jessica’s jeep is wrapped around a tree in the yard of the home next to the car lot. It is so bent it looks like a boomerang engulfing the tree. An ambulance is on the side of the road, and the back door is open. I run to the back door, thinking they are already loading her into the ambulance, but they are just now pulling out the stretcher. Paramedics are down at her car. I turn and run toward the car. A young man intercepts me and pulls me back up the embankment. I look at the car and Jessica is slumped between the seats in a weird, twisted way. Her head is bent back toward the backseat. My knees buckle, and the young man grabs me to keep me from falling. By now Lindsey is out of the car and running toward me. Jennifer is following close behind. My mind is struggling to make sense of it all. The paramedics tell us to go to Children’s Hospital and meet them there. The young man hands me Jessica’s cell phone. I don’t even think about riding in the ambulance with her. My mind is now on autopilot. I do what I’m told. Jennifer, Lindsey, and I rush back to our cars. I tell Alan to take my van and go get our mother and meet us at the hospital. Jennifer tells me and Lindsey to get in her car so we can go home and get her husband, John, to drive us to the hospital. We are too upset to drive ourselves.
Once on our way, Lindsey and I sit in the backseat as John drives. Lindsey is very quiet and not saying a word. I know we need help. I have no idea what we are facing. I call Linda and Larry from church to meet us at the hospital. They are our friends, and Larry is one of our pastors. I start calling all of Jessica’s friends in her contact list to tell them what happened and to pray for her.