6. Repercussions
Suffice it to say, I have never been much of a dog-lover since that wintery day in January 1992. But the whole experience did serve to instill even more fear into my heart. I would never walk in the front yard again unless I was with someone or had some sort of mighty weapon in my hands. And that is the stark reality of it. I didn't care who knew I was afraid at that point, I wasn't going out there for the mail or for any other reason. Ever. I would make all my arrangements so I could unlock my car quickly and jump in fast. Even though the dog died later that year and he wasn't replaced by the owner, every time I heard the jingling of a chain or keys (which sound like a dog collar), my heart would race and I would freeze. Every time something or someone came at me from my peripheral vision, I would freak out and jump. I still have all of these responses today but am better able to control them. Apparently this is some lower form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but we didn't know anything about that then. I just figured it would eventually fade and I'd be back to normal again in no time.
I'm very glad that for that season, God had placed me at the Christian high school. During these traumatic events, it helped to be in a place where I was spiritually nurtured and protected. Each year my entire high school went to Winter Camp somewhere in mid-Michigan for a weekend in late January. It was a time to play but it could also be an incredible time for spiritual growth. We learned about the Holy Spirit, about forgiveness, about God's redemption and grace, about unity and holiness. I have very fond memories of each Winter Camp I attended. At this particular camp, my circle of friends and I decided we wanted to memorize Hebrews 13:5, "For I will never leave you without support or forsake you, or let you down, My child. I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree, leave you helpless or relax My hold on you, assuredly not" (NIV). It was a Scripture that spoke peace and hope to each of our five little womanly hearts.
Suffice it to say, I have never been much of a dog-lover since that wintery day in January 1992. But the whole experience did serve to instill even more fear into my heart. I would never walk in the front yard again unless I was with someone or had some sort of mighty weapon in my hands. And that is the stark reality of it. I didn't care who knew I was afraid at that point, I wasn't going out there for the mail or for any other reason. Ever. I would make all my arrangements so I could unlock my car quickly and jump in fast. Even though the dog died later that year and he wasn't replaced by the owner, every time I heard the jingling of a chain or keys (which sound like a dog collar), my heart would race and I would freeze. Every time something or someone came at me from my peripheral vision, I would freak out and jump. I still have all of these responses today but am better able to control them. Apparently this is some lower form of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder but we didn't know anything about that then. I just figured it would eventually fade and I'd be back to normal again in no time.
I'm very glad that for that season, God had placed me at the Christian high school. During these traumatic events, it helped to be in a place where I was spiritually nurtured and protected. Each year my entire high school went to Winter Camp somewhere in mid-Michigan for a weekend in late January. It was a time to play but it could also be an incredible time for spiritual growth. We learned about the Holy Spirit, about forgiveness, about God's redemption and grace, about unity and holiness. I have very fond memories of each Winter Camp I attended. At this particular camp, my circle of friends and I decided we wanted to memorize Hebrews 13:5, "For I will never leave you without support or forsake you, or let you down, My child. I will not, I will not, I will not in any degree, leave you helpless or relax My hold on you, assuredly not" (NIV). It was a Scripture that spoke peace and hope to each of our five little womanly hearts.
So, we sat at this tinny, old, rickety piano in the common area and plunked out a song. My friend and I began singing as I played some basic chord patterns and the Holy Spirit sparked our voices to sing the exact same tune! The group sang it for the whole high school later at the evening chapel session and it is one of only two songs that I have written that I will actually play in public today. We named it "Assuredly Not" and although the others may not even remember it, the little tune still ministers to me today. It certainly has played a strong role in keeping me anchored with the Lord through many tough times.
Even today, however, I still have repercussions of both the car accident and dog attack. These alone would have been enough to deal with spiritually and physically for anyone. When I was learning how to drive, I was the only 15-year-old who drove under the speed limit. Once I went to a local sports center and arcade to try out the go-karts with a youth group. I was "lapped" by my buddies 2 times before I even tried to push the accelerator. As of this moment, I am not quite such a 'fraidy-cat as that anymore but I still flinch whenever someone or something jumps at me, especially from my peripheral vision.
Even today, however, I still have repercussions of both the car accident and dog attack. These alone would have been enough to deal with spiritually and physically for anyone. When I was learning how to drive, I was the only 15-year-old who drove under the speed limit. Once I went to a local sports center and arcade to try out the go-karts with a youth group. I was "lapped" by my buddies 2 times before I even tried to push the accelerator. As of this moment, I am not quite such a 'fraidy-cat as that anymore but I still flinch whenever someone or something jumps at me, especially from my peripheral vision.
A somewhat amusing example of this happened just a few months back at my great-grandmother's house. My dad and I were walking up her driveway and my husband had already pulled in driving his pickup truck. As Dad and I passed the truck I saw a dark figure move near the truck from the corner of my eye at the same time that I heard the jingling of a chain. Since I thought Mario had already gone into the house, I assumed it was a dog. I grabbed my father and shoved him in front of me while I ran behind him to the back door of the house. Poor Daddy, being sacrificed like that! Don't worry, it turned out to be Mario after all and we had a good little chuckle from it. Still, I am pretty sure my dad will not be walking that close to me any more.
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