Ella is blessed beyond belief to have awesome people in her life that love her unconditionally.  People that accept her for who she is and celebrate her milestones and accomplishments right along with us, hands clapping, shouting, “Yes, Ella!  You can do it!”  Of course the list begins with family, then branches off into friends and other special people in our lives.  The list is long…and I take comfort in the fact that these precious ones are and always will help to shape Ella’s life.  Each in their own special way.  Our “forever” support system.  What an amazing, wonderful, powerful thing to have surrounding you.  Our cups runneth over continually. 

One of these extraordinary people is Ella’s Aunt Becky (Aunt B, for short!).  Becky is my only sister, younger than me by 3 years, and my best friend & ally by far and wide.  She is REAL.  She is FUN.  You tell her stuff and she just “gets it.”  She laughs and loves with everything she has inside of her and her servant’s heart shines through in all she does.  She is an excellent example of a wife, mother and friend just trying to follow God’s plan for her life – through all of the trials and triumphs.  What you see is what you get with Becky.  She is open, honest and has one of the best cackle laughs that you will ever hear in your life.  All of these things are undeniable after spending five minutes with Becky.  However, Ella is especially fortunate to benefit from her Aunt B for reasons that are not as obvious to people.  Becky’s quiet strength comes from a much deeper place in her soul.  A place where her faith was challenged, her resolve questioned, her autonomy broken, and her patience was put to the test.    

In December of 1997, Becky’s junior year in high school, she was sledding with some friends at a nearby Quarry when the sled she was on veered off course and hit a tree at the bottom of the hill.  Becky’s friends found her slumped over near the tree, moaning and in such severe pain she was almost numb.  No one had a cell phone.  Walking to the nearest phone would take over 15 minutes.  Her friends acted quickly and efficiently log-rolled her back onto the sled, careful not to move her too much in the process.  They slid her in the back of the mini-van and drove to one of their houses where they called the Paramedics.  She was strapped to the wooden EMT board and wore a neck brace in the ambulance, where she did not have feeling in her limbs and was having difficulty talking.  We stayed the entire night by her bedside, and she gripped our hands and squeezed as the pain came in waves.  The next morning, the Doctor gathered us around and explained that Becky had suffered a burst fracture of her #2 lumbar vertebrae.  The impact of her hitting the tree had sent bits and pieces of her bone flying and they were extremely close to her spinal chord.  He took a deep breath and paused before telling us that Becky had been less than one half inch from being paralyzed from the chest down for the rest of her life.  Because of how carefully her friends had moved her, they had truly saved her from paralysis.  A surgery would be much too risky, so the only option she had was to be placed in a full body cast for three months, possibly more.  They hoped she would make a full recovery and eventually walk again – but there were so many questions.  He looked down at her and said “You’ve got to be the luckiest girl alive” to which she responded, “It’s not luck – I’m just blessed.”    

My mom and I were asked to be in the casting room as they lifted Becky’s frail body with a system of ropes and pulleys to apply the cast.  She screamed and cried out to us, and we were helpless to ease her suffering.  It was and continues to be one of the most painful moments I have witnessed in my life.  Two weeks later and five days before Christmas, an ambulance brought Becky home where we had transformed the dining room into her new room for the next several months.  We taped each and every card or letter she received to the walls so she was surrounded by the love of her family and friends.  She was placed on the hospital bed we rented and smiled…so glad to finally be home again.  

   For three months, my mom took time off of work to become Becky’s “nurse” and my dad and I helped as much as we could.  She had to lie totally flat the entire time.  We could not even prop her head up at all…she just rolled from side to side when we bathed her or needed to change her sheets.  Did I mention that it was THREE months?  That’s 90 days.  2160 hours.  129,600 minutes.  Lying flat on your back.  Wrapped in a full body cast and dependant on others for everything from scratching your "hard to reach" itches to going to the bathroom.  Your freedom?  Gone.  Yet Becky continued to be Becky and on many occasions even lifted my spirits after I had a bad day at school or work.  I would come into the house, all irritated about something that did not go my way and Becky would smile at me and with total concern, ask me if I had had a tough day.

After some at home X-rays were taken in March, the Dr. felt she was ready to get up and try to stand.  We slowly helped her to her feet for the first time in over three months and she stood up.  We cried and cheered and slapped each other high fives.  It was one of the best moments of my life.  Becky wore a walking cast for a long time after that, followed by a brace which she wore without hesitation under her dress at the Prom that spring.  She persevered through an extremely tough time, and not too long after Prom was pronounced as having made a “full recovery.”  The things we learned from each other as a family during that time are unmatched, yet Becky herself taught us the most important lesson of all.  If you are going to be in the same position for three months, it might as well be on your back because then the only way you can look is UP. 

Aunt B - you are our hero.  We love you so much

 “How a person masters his fate is more important than what his fate is.”     Wilhelm von Humboldt