Man, I’m exhausted. And filthy. Again. Every weekend, and even more on holiday weekends…Why do I do this?  

That was the last thing going through my mind at midnight on Memorial Day, 2016.

I just “enjoyed” another weekend, a holiday weekend no less, not spending time with my family. Instead, I was demolishing our upstairs bathroom that had a bunch of dry rot. What was initially a bathroom remodel became a total gut job, including the floor joists. With the new framing finally installed, a contractor and I were working late that night, hanging drywall sheets for a new kitchen ceiling below the bathroom, hoping to keep more mess from falling.

But that didn’t matter–the kitchen floor was already a disaster zone–covered with rotten wooden planks, drywall chunks, rusty nails, screws, filthy insulation, and dirt everywhere.

I was above the mess on an 8-foot ladder, holding a drywall sheet over my head, when it suddenly broke loose from the ceiling and fell on top of me. I lost my balance, and the ladder tipped over and fell. For a split second, I hovered in the air, long enough to yell, “NO!” and then tumbled to the filthy floor.

I landed on my hands and knees, straddling the a-frame ladder, which was now crushing my chest. I wanted to scream in pain, but had no breath because I collapsed my right lung! After staggering into my car and speeding to the ER, I found out I had also broken five ribs and one of them punctured my liver!

The doc said, “You’re lucky. Someone was looking out for you.” 

What? How could that be? I couldn’t breathe and I stabbed my own liver!  

At the hospital, they proceeded to share a long list of what often happens when someone falls from a ladder–concussions, broken back or neck, infection from punctures, and so much more. They reminded me that, somehow, I landed on top of an open ladder, in a filthy workplace, and sustained no exterior cuts or bumps at all. My broken ribs, while painful, would heal on their own. My liver would as well, and with a bunch of breathing exercises, my lung would return to normal. Incredible.

That’s when I realized how fortunate I was, and that God was with me the whole time.  He knew exactly when I would fall, and exactly where I would land, and kept me from sustaining even worse injuries. It was the biggest, most painful shock of my life, and God was in control the whole time.  

The accident was followed by several months of recovery and reflection, as God stitched my body back together. No surgery or medications, just sitting still, and experiencing God’s love and grace, as he reconnected my bones and healed my liver.  

That time of reflection was such a gift–it reminded me that we have a great and awesome God, who loves us so very much; He’s always there to guide us when we stumble, to pick us up when we fall, and to put us back together again. We just need to trust Him.

Eight years later, I still look back on that accident with gratitude. God was there, caring for me and my family. He’s continually at work, in every part of our lives. I’m so thankful for His love and faithfulness.