It’s been three months since Maezie’s accident.
We will never be the same—and we’re better for it.
I never want to go through that again, and I’m sure Maezie or the rest of the family and friends doesn’t either. But I’ve tasted and seen a measure of God’s goodness that only comes with a desperate need, that only shows up in suffering. It’s the kind of goodness that doesn’t ignore the pain but meets you right in the midst of it.
Maezie is about 95% healed now. Her neurologist told her to avoid any brain-rattling activity—she could go to summer camp, but only if she was basically “a bump on a log.” But in true Maezie fashion, by week two out of the hospital she told me:
“Mom, if my brain blows up because I’m at church and singing in worship, then I have other problems.”
Hard to argue with that. But also… not something to take lightly. She has taken that stand since she got home from the hospital. So far her brain has not blown up and I don’t think she has missed an opportunity to praise the Lord full-send. Jumping and bouncing like her life depends on it.
She attended multiple camps this summer. If you’ve ever seen 13-year-olds worship at Camp on the Boulder, you know that means jumping, shouting, dancing, praising. Her brain did not blow up—but our hearts sure did. A friend sent me a video from one of those moments, and this screenshot just told the whole story. I shook my head and my heart jumped into my throat.
Why is God so good?
If we’re willing to ask that, we also have to ask why He allows pain in the first place. I don’t have the answer to either “why.” But this I know: God is good. God is faithful. Not because I can explain Him, but because it’s simply who He is.
Hit By a Truck and Mercy
Years ago, I heard David Platt say something that never left me. He used the example in one of his sermons of someone claiming to have been hit by a truck. You’d expect to see evidence—something would be visibly, undeniably changed. Then he asked: how much more would an encounter with the living God leave evidence? When you’ve met Him, your life shows it.
Maezie was literally hit by a car. And all of us who were close have been hit—in some way, we are changed. The evidence remains. We can’t go back to “normal,” and we shouldn’t want to. What has changed cannot be unchanged.
Physically, Maezie carries some scars, and we have pictures to remind us of the accident. Our hearts are changed with marks of deeper: humility, gratitude, awe, and maybe some boldness to tell the story that is hard to believe.
I know some reading this have been hit by illness or tragedy and didn’t get to return to anything close to normal. I won’t pretend to understand why or how that feels. God’s ways are not our ways, and I have to trust Him—not because it all makes sense, but because He is God, and we don’t really have a choice, as I see it.
We are profoundly grateful that Maezie can move forward without lasting physical limitations. But it would be a tragedy to “move on” without pausing to worship, to say thank you, to declare God’s goodness in both the suffering and the healing.
“For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come. Therefore, let us offer through Jesus a continual sacrifice of praise to God, proclaiming our allegiance to his name. And don’t forget to do good and to share with those in need. These are the sacrifices that please God.”
—Hebrews 13:14–16 (NLT)
