Shredding away my past…

Although it’s fall, I spent the week spring-cleaning…

Yesterday, I spent the morning shredding 4 years worth of insurance statements. Since my seizures have disappeared, I’ve been on the search for new insurance and decided it was time to get rid of all paperwork for claims that have been closed. I really did not expect to take a journey back in time while I was shredding! 

As I picked up pages to put in the shredder, I caught words here and there…ambulance, emergency, x-ray, fracture, prescription, …and they did not bring back good memories. Dates tied random words to the place and situation in which the seizures occurred. For seven years my memory was really fuzzy from the seizures and medications, but yesterday, my memory was crystal clear. Several of my seizures happened in public places like Wal-Mart, The Glazing Pot, and Gray Court Pharmacy. You’d have thought Wal-Mart was on fire when I had them there. All because of a seizure, I got two fire trucks, and police car, and an ambulance.  I had one in Park City, Utah while we were on vacation, so of course sirens screamed all the way to the hotel, where lots of people took notice. Trevor and I were alone in the hotel room and he handled it all! One of my seizures happened at home while I was alone with Miranda and Marlee. They were in the bath at the time, and Miranda found me about twenty minutes later with our Great Danes hovering over me. There was a puddle of blood about two feet wide under my head from breaking my nose. It’s truly a blessing I don’t actually remember the seizure and seeing people react to them; I want no memory of my children’s faces in the aftermath. But I do remember the events after I regained consciousness, which usually took about an hour. They are NOT good memories. 

I let seizures define me for seven years. I felt like a victim. I let the depression that went with each seizure build on the one before, driving me further and further into the hole of isolation I’d dug for myself. That was not God’s plan. He wanted me to turn to Him. He wanted me to see His strength in my weakness. 

I finished shredding all four years worth of statements (three garbage bags full). Four miserable years of my past represented in those garbage bags, shredded beyond recognition. No more reminders and a new insurance plan in the works. 
My past is past. It is gone. I cannot and will not go back. I wish I’d realized sooner that it was only God who could heal me and maybe I wouldn’t have turned to so many other ways to “fix” myself. But now, God has wiped it away, as far as the east is from the west, and He didn’t even have to use a shredder! He just wanted me to turn to Him. 
From my heart,

Celeste

Comments

  1. One of the positive things about looking at our past is that we recognize how far God has brought us. Then we’re more likely to praise Him for what He’s done instead of taking it for granted.

  2. Absolutely!

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