In the past few years God has set up some pretty amazing divine appointments, from living situations, cars, jobs, and probably my most favorite one to date, Ginny Girl.
Writing this blog is one of the hardest things so far on the Race because I have to let you into one of my hard times, but I have come to the conclusion that writing this would not only help me heal, but it would let you in on how God used Ginny in my life to teach and shape me into who I am, and that it would honor and shed light on children with disabilities and maybe even help you in healing something of your own.
When I was 17 years old I became a PCA for children with disabilities, it became a passion to help and watch them succeed. In college I had moved to Tulsa, OK and was looking for a job. I found an Ad that Ginny’s mom had placed looking for a caregiver, and went in for an interview. In situations where your caring for people’s children there also needs to be a connection with the entire family, and in the past God provided some wonderful families, and Ginny’s parents were no exception.
Ginny had “Peroxisomal Disorder” which is a genetic disorder that basically attacks your own body. She had little motor function, couldn’t talk except for a few favorite words and was fed through a G-Tube in her Stomach. Yet, even though her body was against her, she soared. She exuited strength in her willingness to push through and fight. Some of her favorite things included Elmo and Mickey Mouse…Well actually everything included those two shows. When we would watch Sesame Street she would shout at the top of her lungs “YAYEEEEEE!” after he did something she loved. If you just so happened to put on the wrong episode she would grip onto your pointer finger until you picked up the remote (even if it was halfway across the room). The bucket full of Elmo books next to her chair would probably all land behind it because she would toss them over the back if they weren’t the one she wanted. And finally, the “hotdog” song. If you have children and they watch Mickey Mouse, you know the one I’m talking about…And it’s lyrics are probably engraved into your head forever. If you don’t know it, just type it into YouTube and you will find a version that’s 1 ½ hours long.
Her hugs were my favorite, mostly because it showed her strength. Even on the days where you could see pain written all over her body, she would pull us all into a headlock and hold on tight and the little tug on your hair was just an extra sign of love.
When she passed away there was a sense of relief, I knew that the pain and suffering that she had endured her entire life was over and that she was in Heaven. I could picture so clearly her getting up out of her wheelchair jumping and dancing, and that just makes me joyful. But the fact that she is gone is just painful.
These past 9 months I’ve been holding it in and pushing it down deeper and deeper. They say healing is a process, and it looks differently for everyone, but how do you know if your in the healing process or shying away from having to deal with your thoughts and emotions? Although I haven’t pushed God away, I haven’t exactly let Him in on this either.
This month we have had the opportunity to put on a Beauty For Ashes retreat for the women of the ministry we worked alongside. The retreat is focused on empowering women to experience God’s restoration and hope through storytelling and community. As our team prepared, we talked about how vulnerability was key, and that sharing our story was important in letting the women know that they can share theirs. One of the activities was to draw a moment of pain in your life and how God has helped you heal from it. Well why not get real deep and share with the ladies how I wasn’t allowing God into my pain. As I showed my picture, shared a part of my testimony and talked about losing Ginny, the atmosphere in the room changed. Most of the women in the room had experienced the loss of a child, and by me sharing about sweet Ginny Girl, it opened up a way for God to move. Although all the experiences being shared were a little different, we all shared the pain of losing someone we cared about and loved.
By me not allowing God into my pain, it began to affect my relationship with Him. By me not talking about it, I was not allowing myself to heal. By me not sharing about Ginny and the memories I have of her, it was not showing the respect I have for the fight she put up. And lastly, by me not sharing this story with others, it is not allowing God to help others in their own grief.
