"Stories on the Sabbath"

                                                            "The Gift of Receiving"
 
Twilight was falling, the headlights were still on, and a large crowd was gathered around the car, curiously quiet. Shattered glass and twisted metal lay on the highway. The wheels of the car were still spinning and an awful gloom filled the air. In the distance, a little dog was running peacefully across the road, unaware of the tragedy he had just caused. A woman lay unconscious amongst the debris. I was that woman.
 

All I remember is swerving, skidding, and then flipping over and over. The initial part of the accident happened so quickly. But as I flipped, time seemed to go in slow motion. When the car finally stopped, I was slumped behind the steering wheel. My right leg extruded from the driver's side window, bent forward under the car at an impossible angle and bathed in a widening pool of blood. Broken glass was everywhere.
 
The hospital became my home for the next four weeks, days filled with excruciating pain and endless nights filled with nightmares. The hardest part for me, almost harder than the pain, was having to learn to accept help from so many people. I had been through some hard times while growing up; consequently, I didn’t trust many people and had not allowed others to get close to me. Now here I was in a most vulnerable position, and I had no other choice but to accept help.
 
I am a convert to the Church, and prior to being baptized had a very strong dislike for Mormons. Over the course of events, my eyes, and also my husband Gary's, were opened to the wonderful gospel plan. During our conversion, we felt an outpouring of love from total strangers. Because of my past, however, I remained skeptical. How could anyone love me when they didn't even know me? As time passed, we began to feel the arms of our "ward family" encircling us.
 
Just before the accident, I was undergoing intensive training to be a midwife. On the fateful day of the accident, I was on my way to deliver a baby. I had been so busy in my life up to this point, and now all I could do was lie in bed in pain. The next months were filled with many hardships.  My first night in the hospital was spent in intensive care. Three different surgeries followed. My right femur was totally shattered, and third-degree road burns covered the entire inner side of my thigh. These were some of the darkest moments of our lives.
 

Then as quickly as despair set in, the compassionate embrace of caring, loving people wrapped a blanket of warmth and love around us. Within an hour of the accident our wonderful ward was in motion. Our home teachers and others were at the hospital with priesthood blessings and support. Friends took care of our son. It seemed our every need was anticipated and cared for. So many visitors, gifts, & flowers arrived that the hospital was forced to put me in a private room for self-defense! We gave away flowers to other patients who had none. Still more came. Gary slept at the hospital on a hide-a-bed couch throughout the entire ordeal. His loving service alone was indescribable.
 
While I was in the hospital, friends went to my home and cleaned it from top to bottom. They organized our library, which I must say was quite a challenge. When told that this had been done, I was deeply embarrassed. I didn't want anyone coming into my home and seeing my clutter! However, when I came home and saw the wonderful gift that had been given, the embarrassment evaporated. My friends had done something for me that I couldn't do for myself. I was able to leave the hospital because of our new, extended family. Women with whom I felt a special bond took a day each week and stayed with me. For eight weeks, ward members brought meals into our home every night.

 
Gary and I were raised to be fiercely independent and have struggled to learn how to graciously allow others to serve us. Through this experience we discovered the gift of receiving. Service is a two-way street. There has to be a receiver as well as a giver for the circle of service to be complete. The Lord has truly taught us the importance of being a gracious receiver. We have been the recipient of supreme service. When we learn to receive, we gain a better appreciation for the Savior's gift of His atoning sacrifice. It is our testimony that when Christ like service is rendered, if we lovingly accept it, we have then made real, the sacrifice of our elder brother Jesus Christ.
 
                                               --Dana Widdison, midwife, mother of two
                                                        (By Small and Simple Things)