LET GO,LET GOD

On Dec. 5, 1992, my husband Dave, our two children, my parents and I were on our way to West Virginia to celebrate the 50th wedding anniversary of some family friends. We were involved in an accident with two deer and another vehicle, and my mother was killed.

Our son David, then 10, and my dad were taken to one hospital, while Dave, our 8-year-old daughter Suzie and I were taken to a different one. I asked for a chaplain to pray with us. This chaplain not only prayed with us, but kept us informed of everyone’s conditions. I let go and let God.

I know I am not alone when I say that I like to be in control of my life, but this day was simply not in my hands anymore. Eventually, arrangements were made for all of us to be in the same hospital. I did what I could as far as informing health care workers of my family’s medical history. I called The Church of the Good Shepherd to ask for prayers and, wow, did they come, along with lots of cards and gifts and offers to help.

The friends we were going to see came to see us in shifts during their celebration and during our hospitalization. The ambulance crew graciously made the 60-mile round trip to our van to retrieve comfort items for the kids. My brother and sisterin- law arrived 11 hours after the accident and took over. Thank heavens.

One member of the EMS team who was baking Friendship Bread for us visited the following day to meet the folks she had been praying for. We connected with health care providers who not only cared for us, but listened to us as we struggled with medical issues and began the grieving process.

One nurse used her dinner break to take me to see Dave in ICU three days after the accident. It was the first time I was physically able to get out of bed and the first time I had talked to or seen Dave. A week after the accident, we (except Dave) traveled by Amtrak to Staunton, Va., and from there by ambulance to my dad’s home in Luray, Va. The funeral for my mother was held at a country church filled with family and friends. She was buried on a snow-covered hill surrounded by mountains. It was so quietly peaceful.

Dave was transferred to Harrisonburg Hospital the next week and was in and out of it several times. The many obstacles we had faced brought about such an overwhelming feeling in all of us.

We got through it by asking for what we needed, making many, many phone calls, keeping detailed notes and crying lots of tears. With our faith and the strong, steady support of family, friends, co-workers and many people we never met, we healed. God was with us then and is with us always. Remember, Let Go and let God!

— Shirley Thomas

Courtesy of The Church of the Good Shepherd United Methodist