The Beginning

April 31st, 2012
This is the beginning of my blog, but not the beginning of me!
I have lived a very blessed life.  I have had comfort and 3 square meals a day.  I have a beautiful family and wonderful friends.  More than all of this, I have a faith in Christ that has sustained me for many years.
Accepting Christ came shortly after my younger sister died.  She was 16 at the time and I was 17.  We shared a bedroom together, we shared friends, clothes and makeup, but we did not share a faith. 
The first time I knew something was different with her was when my mother came into my room and said she had been told by the doctor that we had to "love my sister a little more"!  L (my sister) was a combination of extremes.  When she was good, she was very good, and when she was bad or upset....well you get the picture.  Getting good grades did not come easy to her so she would miss days in class to pursue other, more interesting endeavours.
We were 11 months apart, so we were best friends.  It was great having a sister and a friend that you could "hang out" with.  Someone in your own room that you could chat with, cry with, gossip with, and vent with.
Getting into trouble was a full-time job for L.  Sometimes I went along and got into the same trouble. 
She was the bold and brave one.  You could never embarrass her.  It was also wise never to "dare" her to do anything.  She was always up for the challenge, and loved the attention.  I learned to use her bravado for my own benefit later in life.
So, after years of trying all types of suggestions to help L fit into the mold (grounding, extra chores, group home (she ran away from here)) it was agreed that she would spend the summer with my aunt. 
My aunt and uncle had young children of their own, so L would go to help out with the little ones. 
None of us knew what a monumental moment this would be.  It changed her life, and ours as well.
I wasn't with her during this summer, but she would send letters home (before email was invented) and let us know how she was doing.  In the beginning they were typical letters.  Filled with what she was doing and how things were going.
And then one day, the tone of her letter changed.
She mentioned that "God is with us in the good times and the bad."  The rest of the letter had a different composition than previous letters.  It was no longer about L, but about this new relationship she had with Jesus.
Mom and I looked at each other and knew that as much as L had tried in the past to change and be good, she would always go back to being her old self in no time.  We figured it was just a matter of time before we would see the old "L" again.
So the summer was up, L came back home and settled back into the family.
We noticed immediately that she was different.  More calm, more peaceful, and yet with a new energy.  She shared her new book (The Bible) with us, and explained her new faith in Christ.  For L, it was like throwing a sacrificial goat into a lion's den.
In my eyes, my new job was to ask the really tough questions.  The ..."if God is real, then why does He....."?  Try to see if what she was saying and what she now believed in was real.  If it could stand the test of my clever, tough questions!
So after a relentless number of days bombarding her with every difficult question I could gather, with Bible in hand, she turned to me and said....."I don't have an answer for that, but I still believe!"
Ha Ha!  I had won.  I stumped her!  I was so clever she couldn't answer my musings!  Now I would get the "old L" back.  She would be her old self again.
She would go along with me on our little adventures, and test the waters in any way we could, but she was still different.  Never the same.  I just never saw that old "temper" again.  It never returned.
L tried to keep in touch with my aunt and her neighbour R, but they lived in a different city.  This was the only Christian support she had.  She was on her own.  Or so we thought!  It turns out she had a lot more on her side than any of us knew.
So for a year, life went on.  "L" went to school.  I moved out to a new friends place which was a few blocks from home. I did not leave on good terms with my parents.  I was going to start my life on my own terms, with my own rules.   I was working and burning the candle at both ends, which never worked well for me.  I kept in touch with my friends and with my sister.  On a beautiful June morning, I was planning to meet my sister at school, to talk and hang out together. 
I overslept, which was not unusual for me.  The phone woke me up out of a dead sleep.  I was going to be late meeting my sister!
I answered the phone, and there was someone on the other end who was quite upset.  It was our friend V.  I could tell she was crying and she just kept apologizing.  "I'm so sorry.  We were in an accident and L is hurt and at the hospital."  I told her it would all be okay and I was on my way.
I threw some clothes on and jumped on the first bus going by.  I didn't know what had happened, or even where it had happened.  The bus drove over the bridge near the school.  I saw a tow truck and some police cars.  I shuddered.  It was then that I knew something was very wrong.
I went into the Emergency entrance and found my friend V who began crying and apologizing again.  I looked at her.  She looked like she was fine.  I asked if she was hurt.  She said she was fine.  I asked where our other friend K was.  She was being examined, but she was okay.  Just a few scratches.
I asked what had happened. 
V was driving her family station wagon to school.  It was just starting to rain and as she turned the corner to go over the bridge, she lost control of the car.  It literally cleared the guardrail and landed approximately 25 feet down in the valley. 
She was held in the car by the steering wheel.  K hit the floor, but my sister flew out of the car and landed several feet away from the vehicle.  Just to note - this was back in the days before the steep fines were imposed for not wearing a seat belt, so we usually didn't fasten one.
I tried to find a nurse that could tell me what was happening, but they didn't know.  They pointed me down the hall and explained how to get to a waiting room.  I wandered around and found the waiting room.  Both my parents were sitting there.  Our differences were put aside, and I asked what was happening. 
They said that L had hit her head and was unconscious.  She was in surgery where they were going to try to and help alleviate the pressure in her head from the swelling that was taking place in her brain.  All we could do was wait.  So we did.  In virtual silence. 
The doctor came out and told us that they did not know how long she would be in a coma, or what the outcome would be.  She might be fine, she might be handicapped, or she might be a "vegetable" and require assistance for the rest of her life.
This couldn't be happening.  What was happening with my best friend. The girl who used to sing and dance in the aisles at Dominion, who would go with K and I to dance on TV, who would call up guys I liked and ask them if they liked me, the one would would whistle back at construction workers, or chase a flasher down the hill at school.  Surely we would continue on together with more antics!
She was transferred down to Toronto Western Hospital.  There she would get the proper care.  We decided the next day that mom, dad and I would go down to see her.  G, my younger brother would stay at school.  There would be other opportunities for him to go see her.
We had been told the day before that the swelling in her brain was getting worse, and they were going to try to control it with drugs, but we were welcome to come for a visit that day.
So dad drove us down.  Mom and Dad went in first to see her.  Then it was my turn to go in. 
Her head had been shaved and wrapped in a huge band aid. (Her beautiful hair was gone.  Could I get used to her with no hair?)  She had black stitches on her chin.  (Boy I hope that doesn't leave a scar.)  She was laying there with all the tubes and machinery needed to keep her going.  Nurses came and went.
I went to the side of her bed and held her right hand.  A tear rolled down her temple.  The nurse said "talk to her.  The hearing is the last thing to go!"  I didn't catch onto anything other than "talk to her".
I shook her hand and said "L, wake up.  Let's go!"  Like it was time for school.  There was no response.  Just the tear.  I knew she heard me.  I knew she was in there. 
I finished my visit and went out to the waiting room to rejoin my mom and dad.  Dr. V. had met them and started to tell them how things were not improving, and that she would probably not make it through the night.
I was numb and in shock.  I hadn't expected this outcome.  I hadn't planned for it. 
The drive home was gruelling.  Dad driving, mom and I crying.  I don't know how he managed to get us all home safely.  We waited tensely by the phone all night.  We got the call in late morning that she had passed.  My father had to go down to the morgue and identify her.  He was escorted by police.  To this day I am not sure why he had to do this, but I'm certain it was a memory he wished he could forget.
I had prayed that God's will would be done, and it had.  This was the most difficult time of my life. 
My life changed immediately.  I wasn't great fun to be around anymore, and ended up losing all of my friends.  I made new ones.  N took me on as a friend.  I developed friendships with a group of guys that hung out in the library.  They weren't part of the "popular" cliche, but they were greater in my eyes.  They treated me well.  We had great discussions.  I was thankful for their friendship at such a difficult time.
Another friend, S. became my new best friend.  He wasn't afraid to call me up.  He wasn't afraid to be around me when things were rough.  He would take me on trips to see his new university, and we would spend time hanging out and talking.  I was so grateful for the distraction he was for me at this time.  He was more brave than some who had called me friend for years.  V and K started to slip away.  I can understand how difficult it would be for them to see me sad or crying everyday.  This would just deepen their own pain.  Like rubbing salt into a wound.  I tried to hang on to their relationship, but it was impossible. 
Somehow, through the moments where I was so distraught that I thought my heart would break, I would have moments of peace.  It didn't make sense.  I couldn't understand why.
In the meantime, in my mother's life there was a big change.  She had moments of great pain and sorrow, but moments of peace and joy.  As if her burden was being lifted for a few moments.  Just enough so she could catch her breath and move baby steps forward.  She had accepted Christ as her saviour, and was now living out what L had known all along.
I came to know him as my personal saviour not long after that.  Without His grace to carry me, I know I would not have made it past this devastating loss.
He was with me "in the good times and the bad".