My childhood was very happy. I was loved, protected, nurtured. I grew up attending church, but it was a Sunday thing, not a personal and intimate relationship with a loving and holy God.

When I was 13, I started swimming competitively. Thirteen is a very late age to begin competing, but I was a natural, and at 16, I was competing internationally. My goal was to make the Olympic team.

I received a swimming scholarship from UCLA. In my senior year, 1981, two friends and I were at the beach. I went in the water to bodysurf. Taking a wave with my arms outstretched, I tucked my chin against my chest and—wham!—my head hit something unyielding.

Wow! That hurt! I thought I’d pulled a muscle in my neck and that I’d better swim to shore. I told my legs, Okay, push off. Nothing moved, no response. Huh! Okay, try again, I told myself. Nothing. I tried to use my arms. Still nothing.

I was now aware of a buzzing sensation in my neck. I realized that I was running out of air, so I tried to lift my head out of the water, but could not. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was adrift in the waves, facedown, with my arms and legs dangling beneath me. I could not get my head out of the water. I was terrified.

A wave flipped me over, and I could breathe. But then another flipped me back over, and I was facedown again. Suddenly two hands grabbed me and turned me over, and I was pulled onto the beach. I had severed my spinal cord. I was paralyzed for life.

Many, many people visited me, including strangers who had read about my accident in the newspaper. The number of people who were Christians amazed me. They shared the Gospel with me and told me that God offered us a new life in Christ and hope for the future. They talked about God’s unconditional love and His grace. One afternoon while lying in my hospital bed, I asked Christ into my heart. I needed Him so badly because I was without hope. And now I had hope (Jeremiah 29:11-13).

But once I left the hospital to become acquainted with the real world from a wheelchair, I adopted some very unhealthy, as well as sinful, coping mechanisms. Although I truly wanted to build a relationship with God and to serve Him, my fledgling faith was floundering.

I wanted desperately to escape from this new reality. So, I began drinking to numb the pain and torment in my heart and mind. I sought distraction and entertainment. I looked up my horoscope regularly. I even consulted a psychic. And all the while I prayed and implored God to help me. And He was patient with me.

During all of my searching, God was gracious and merciful. We do serve a faithful God who will never turn us away when we seek Him, even when we do dumb things to cope. God, in his kindness, brought a Christian man into my life. This man had been through his share of trials as well; at 18, while swimming with friends at a pond, he dove out of a tree into the water, breaking his back. His severed spinal cord had left him a paraplegic.

Photo: Joan Allen

But he loved God. He was fun to be with and he made me laugh. He neither treated me as fragile and breakable nor did he worship me and think of me as courageous. He accepted me as I am. We were married four years later.

Four years after that, my husband Rich developed a bladder infection. No big deal, as they are very common for people in chairs. But this one was serious. Rich was put on life support. I begged and pleaded with God to keep my husband alive.

Rich survived, but he lost his power of speech. And then I watched our merciful God not only provide for our every need, but bless us as well. First, Rich was transferred to the hospital across the street from where I work, so I was able to monitor his status as well as communicate with his doctors throughout the day. Second, Rich’s hospital neurologist happened to be a colleague of my brother, who is a neurosurgeon; they had practiced together at University of California Irvine Medical Center. So Rich’s neurologist took a special interest in him. And once Rich was discharged from the hospital, his home care aide was fully funded for a year and a half through a foundation that assists people with medical emergencies. We were relieved of this tremendous financial burden.

For the first year after the septic shock, all Rich could do was grunt. Over the next three-and-a -half years, he had very little speech. Then, at Christmastime, we had our small group from church over to our house. Rich sat and listened during Bible study—and all of a sudden he just started talking. Suddenly he was telling a friend about his love of music. And today, people comment on how articulate he is, how normal he sounds.

My small group has sustained me through so much. When my van was totaled and my wheelchair was damaged in an accident, the group held fundraisers and ran a garage sale to help me replace them. The group also made sure someone would be with me around the clock for the month I was without mobility. They not only drove me wherever I needed to go, but picked up things for me, shopped for me. For us, they were Christ in action in our lives. We’ve been together three years now. It’s a family.

I have recognized that God is truly faithful. Suffering and trials are unavoidable in this life; ours were debilitating injuries to our bodies. Yours may be something else entirely. Yet God is faithful to help us through them. We may not necessarily like everything that happens to us. Yet God will not only see us through the trials, he even blesses us in the midst of them. If we remain focused on what we have lost, we miss the greater purpose of watching God take us through trials. And we miss the blessings he offers during them.