A Parent's Worst Nightmare

We left the house early that Saturday morning in order to stay on our triathlon-training schedule. It was for beginners like us, and although I have run many races and Sophia swam and ran in countless competitions, we were yet to tackle the swim, bike and run together. But, we had our sights set for August 11 and had been making strides to improve our overall health and athletic ability.

The day was going to be busy – bike, attend a funeral for a dear friend, and host a dinner party for 30 at our house for a couple getting married this summer. We loaded up the car, headed to the outskirts of town to park, and began our 12 mile out and back course.

After getting situated on our bikes, Sophia commented how her new biking shorts purchased just days earlier felt uncomfortable. We laughed and I assured her she would appreciate them as the miles progressed. We headed north, approached another two-lane road and seeing no vehicles coming either way, we headed west on our journey.

My mind fails me – or saves me – for I cannot remember much of the actual accident.  But I do remember the nightmare. In the ambulance standing at the end of my stretcher was a well-spoken man whose words I did not want to hear. “Mrs. Fisher, we did everything we could…”

Sophia had passed away. My one and only daughter was gone.

The nightmare continued as I was taken to the emergency room with injures still to be determined. Pain had overtaken my body and surely my heart was damaged – it hurt the worst. Richard left the house earlier than we did that morning for a run with his running group. Efforts were being made to contact him.

He made it to the ER knowing I had been in an accident but there had been no mention of Sophia. My bike rides many times were alone, and he had not put together that Sophia was with me that dreadful morning. It wasn’t until he was in my ER cubicle that he learned the apple of his eye was gone.

With no strength to stand, he began his nightmare.

He had the daunting task of calling our three boys to tell them of the morning’s events. He had to make more phone calls to family to inform them and ask them to come quickly to our side. I do not know how he had the strength to do what had to be done in the next few hours, but as he stood by my side, he was strong and broken, all tangled up together.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death…”  Psalm 23:4 (emphasis mine)

As we are literally maneuvering through this valley of death, we must keep moving. There are days where we feel as though we are literally crawling through the desert land. We look out in front of us and see only the dry, parched land with no end in sight. This is not a metaphor for me. With the multitude of injuries to my body, it is many times physically hard to get out of bed. I have to be intentional to rise up and move forward. It hurts - both physically and emotionally.

There are moments in this desert when my family and I see an oasis around us. We have a few good days and then it all dries up only to leave us with more desert land in every direction. We are thankful for those scattered good hours or days, but the desert land far outweighs the any fertile, lush land.

The nightmare lingers. There is no way to go back and change the course of that dreaded summer morning. However, we are determined to move forward. We will not set up camp around the devastation and loss. We will walk through this valley and carry the memories of Sophia with us as we search for the mountains where the view is much more inviting.  

The rest of that verse states, “I fear no evil, for You are with me.” God is here in our midst. Even in our worst nightmare when we feel as though all hope is lost, He walks with us through this valley. It does not always feel like He is there, but we trust His character and His Word, and we know God is with us through it all.