I was driving in the darkness from Columbia, SC to Dacula, GA. I am a doctoral psychology intern at WJB Dorn VAMC in Columbia, SC. I drove home as many weekends as possible. It was pitch-dark and I was driving the 25 miles through the Oconee National Forrest. With no on-coming cars, I turned on my bright lights so that I could see as much of the road curve ahead of me as possible. I was also looking out for deer. It was at this moment that God illustrated His presence that was with me in the coma (which I knew because I talked to Him the entire time while I was in there) as well as how He was ever-present with me now – as I drove home on this physical road in the middle of the dark and rather creepy forest.
He showed me that the pathways and connections in my brain, much like curvy roads, which were in danger of being obliterated by Rye Syndrome, were strong and fortified and He walked along them, clearing a way, and bringing healing, even while I was “stuck” in that coma. He stood guard, like a soldier on guard-duty during the wee-hours of darkness, creating in me a tenacity to survive and thrive once He awoke me from the coma.
And, as I looked at the physical road before me with its twists and turns with utter darkness that existed beyond the reach of my bright lights beaming out from my front of my car, I was astonished at His power, His presence, and His ability to break through darkness, enlightening the mind, body, soul, and spirit to align and work together with Him in order to awaken and walk (or drive) into one’s destiny, beautifully orchestrated by God in the midst of comas and in the midst of one’s every day and one’s darkest nights.
Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light for my path. Psalm 119:105