Joni by Joni Eareckson Tada

But I can see how that’s happened. Lord, just like Your Word says, I believe my accident came to test my faith and endurance, but I also feel that You really want me healed. Thank You for this lesson. With Your help, I’m going to trust You. Thank You that even this accident ‘works’ together for good. I pray that others around me will see You through me. In Your name I pray, amen.”
    After that, I began to see more positive aspects about my accident. During the following days I shared with nurses, doctors, and visitors the thought that God had allowed my accident merely to test my faith and endurance. “Now, with that lesson learned, I can trust Him to get me back on my feet. You’ll see!”
    I took this attitude with everything.
    The doctor told dad, “You should know that your insurance probably won’t begin to cover the expenses of Joni’s accident. Her hospital bills will likely be $30,000 or more before she leaves.”
    I said simply, “Don’t worry, God will provide us with what we need.”
    When Dr. Sherrill explained, “Joni, paralysis is generally a lot harder on an athletic person than ordinary people. I want you to know that when depression sets in, you’ll really have a struggle with it.”
    “God will help me,” I replied glibly.
    When a nurse commented, “I was reading about your accident. You know, if your break had occurred an inch or less lower, you’d still have the use of your arms. Sad, isn’t it?”
    I answered, “Yes. But if the break was an inch higher, I’d be dead. God knows best, doesn’t He?”
    Just after Labor Day, Dick stopped by with a present. My room was overflowing with stuffed animals, posters, pictures, cards, and other get-well mementos. One of them was a green and white plush bear that I doused with British Sterling shaving lotion and named after Dick. The familiar scent reminded and reassured me of Dick when he was absent.
    This time, Dick gave me a huge study Bible—one with print large enough to read when it was laid on the floor below my Stryker frame. I could read it by myself if someone turned the pages. In the front, he wrote:
To my dearest Joni, with hopes that Christ will always remain in our relationship, and that Christ might give us the patience to wait for each other. With all kinds of love,
    Dick
    Sept. 9, 1967
    Romans 8:28
    Not long after Labor Day, Dick, Jackie, and all my friends went away to college. Dick hitchhiked back as often as possible to be with me. I didn’t know how difficult this was for him—or that his grades suffered as a result of his concern for me. I just took it for granted that he should be there. In my selfish little world, I didn’t care how he managed it; I just wanted him to be there with me. After all, I needed him. Without knowing it, I began to use my accident as a device to keep him interested. I even resorted to blackmail one evening.
    “Hi, Joni,” Dick grinned as he bent over to kiss me.
    “Where have you been? It’s nearly eight o’clock.”
    “Sorry. I couldn’t get away. How was your day?”
    “You said you’d be here by six, and it’s now eight. You can only stay here a half hour now before you have to leave. What kind of visit is that?” I fumed.
    “Joni, I said I’m sorry. I couldn’t get away.” Dick was getting defensive, and I didn’t want him to get angry.
    “Dickie, my day is absolutely miserable without you. Last night I dreamed you left me for another girl.”
    “I’d never do that—”
    “Oh, promise me, Dickie. Tell me you love me and that you’ll never leave me.”
    “You know how much I care for you, hon.”
    “Tell me. Tell me.”
    “I love you.” Dick said simply. I could tell he didn’t want to say it. Not because he didn’t care for me deeply—I know he did. Rather, he resented my telling him to say it. He wanted to tell me in his own way, in his own time. But he smiled and added, as if to make the statement spontaneous, “I’ve loved you for a long time, Joni. If