Mirriam Webster defines success as: the fact of getting or achieving
wealth, respect, or fame.
The Dufresne-Spencer Group. You may know us better as Ashley Furniture HomeStores
or the new Stash store but we actually are is much larger & growing
rapidly. On the Dufresne side of things we were named as one of the 50 best
managed companies for the 13th consecutive year. On the Spencer side we went
from being $9million company in 2011 to a $250 million company in 2014. The
Dufresne-Spencer Group ranks #59 on the Furniture Today top 100 furniture
stores. Ashley Furniture HomeStore ranks as #1. The Dufresne's own 93 stores in
Canada. The Spencers own 39 Ashley Stores, a few Stash Stores and has a hand in
many more ventures.
What was my part in all this? The customers, I was the head of "guest relations". Amanda Parker,
Guest Relations Manager, that's me. I’m "successful". Back to Mirriam Webster :the fact of getting
or achieving wealth (check, I made good money), respect (check, I had the
respect from being named one of the managers at that "top 50 best managed
company"), fame (check, everyone knew my name. I was the one to call when anything
went wrong).
So here I am running my little part of this million dollar company. I'm
"successful". I've been put on blood pressure medicine, a little
something for the nerves, and my heart rate averages off the chart. I don't see
my kids until bed time every night. My husband has become accustomed to me
biting his head off. I am miserable. I can't describe how unhappy I am. I've
given up my life for this "success" and I don't even know who I am
anymore.
I have no way out. My
family depends on me to be "successful". To provide a certain
"lifestyle". Right? I mean that's what they want, right?
January 23rd. So, here I am again. Knots in my stomach. Robotically drying
my hair, driving to work. My whole demeanor changes when I hit the door. I
completely turn off all emotion and get to the task at hand. Coaching sessions,
meetings, elevated calls, couseling sessions. The pressure is taking it's toll.
I decide to take a break and head to Fred's for a candle for my office.
Candle’s have a calming effect, right? I
left Fred’s, got back on Industrial park road went past the doctor’s office
looked up and it happened; the crash. I can remember the sound of the crashing
glass tinkling all around me, the sounds of metal crumpling. I can see my head,
the tips of my hair going forward and being sprung back. I can remember trying
to brace myself and avoid everything on my right side; Then the stop. It was as if time stood
still. I could see the smoke and dust that were engulfing me from the front and
I remember thinking what a beautiful swirling pattern it’s making. Then I took that deep inhaling breath that
seemed to re-inflate my lungs and the overwhelming feeling of desire took over
to get out. I remember trying to reach
for the door handle and feeling pain to pull it loose. I got my left leg out
and looked down to my right because it wasn’t moving; my leg was crooked, bent
out in an extreme way. My right arm was caught by my shirt, clenched between
some metal. I looked up and saw the driver of the 18 wheeler coming toward me
but stopping when he saw me. He lifted his hands to his temples and sort of
bobbed up and down in terror. I said “help me”, but he didn’t do anything. He
said awwwww I saw you coming, you never saw me I’m sorry”. I was reaching for
him, “help me please, I can’t get out”. He comes over and pulls my shirt loose.
I beg him please help me. He’s sort of dancing in horror. “Help me please I
need to get away”. “Please help me, please I can’t sit down, my leg I think
it’s broken” he comes over and I reach for him. He tries helping me down but
seems terrified to touch me. “I’m sorry” he says, “You didn’t even look”. At
this time it’s almost as if he’s blaming me. I tell him I’m so sorry, ask is he
okay. He says “I’m ok; it’s about you, are you okay”. I ask him to call 911,
can he please get me some help, I ask him to call my husband, I need help. I’m
half lying on the ground on one side of my body. I can feel the shattered glass
all over my body and my supporting hand felt like I was crumbling up crackers,
very hard crackers. I remember sitting in the road being afraid someone would
run over my fingers. They didn’t seem to be stopping which reassured me I must
be okay right. I look up and see Angela.
She was on her way in to work. Oh my gosh Parker, are you okay?” she looks
incredibly flustered and flying about. The next thing I know Amy, who must have
been riding with Angela is cradling me in her lap. “Breathe Parker”. I ask her
Amy, am I okay? I can see her looking around me sort of checking for holes.
“You’re okay Parker”. I asked her a few more times and she’s so soothing even
when she’s not really sure if I am anymore and her voice quivers. At this point
I’m asking everyone to call 911 and Anthony and to make sure he knows I’m okay
so he won’t drive fast because Bryant’s in the truck with him. I can feel some
pain but mostly a shortness of breath. I was fighting to stay conscious and
gasping for a deeper breath. I wasn’t sure if I had been crushed but was so
surprised to see an ambulance. I see a
man in a black jacket and slacks with red hair and a beard. He leans over my
knee and starts looking at me as to assess the damage. I joked “nice scrubs”.
He responded with a grin “you like those hu”.Out of the corner of my eye I see
a lady with pink capris on and remember thinking she’s so cold. It was freezing
outside. I remember she had sweetest look of concern on her face. Amy still
cradling my broken body is asking for a blanket for me. She brings one from her
car or has Angela bring it maybe. I don’t ever remember her leaving me. As soon as the lady in the pink puts down her
bag a man in a uniform comes in beside her moving her out of the way. The red
head updates him on my injuries. He tells me something and then starts cutting
off my clothes. I can feel the shattered glass on the road. The smell of
something is permeating the air. Smoke, antifreeze, I’m not sure but it’s very
strong. I’m afraid the truck will blow up. You see this was the day after JNS Biofuels on Hwy 15 had exploded. I’m apologizing to everyone for
the fuss and assuring them I’m okay. They’re reassuring me that no I’m really
not okay. Then I see them coming with the backboard. Getting me on the back
board and strapping me in and taping my head still caused two things. #1 the
pain sets in and I can feel every crack, scratch, glass spot & the hardness
of the backboard and the agony of the tape holding me down. I am completely out
of any kind of control over my own body. # 2 I realize the seriousness of
what’s happened and that there’s a very good chance my last view in this life
may be the bright metallic glow of the lights inside the ambulance. I look over at the EMT and say I've really
done it now haven’t I. He tells me I’m lucky to be alive. He says when they rolled
up to the scene he wasn't expecting me to be alive. Tear one quietly falls and
I’m praying and thanking God for saving my life. The ride in was very uncomfortable. I joke
with the EMT that my husband must be the one driving because only he could hit every
bump in the road. I can feel us stop a few times, red lights? Me? I’m not sure
but I was afraid I was going to roll right off that back board. I didn't feel
secure at all. I asked, he assured me I wasn't going anywhere. I talk a lot
when I’m nervous so I’m trying to engage him in conversation. My one sided conversation was falling on deaf
ears. He was very focused on running IV lines and filling out my chart. He was
very calm and reassuring. He was very skilled, both the EMT’s were. They seemed
to work in unison and took complete control of every inch of the situation that
was unfolding. From beginning to end they seemed to know exactly what to do and
when to do it. We pull into the ER and from here out things seem to be going by
in a blur. X-rays, CT scans, 4 doctors, numerous nurses and technicians. A few
familiar faces that I was very happy see. The X-rays were the most painful of course. Pulling and prodding my broken glass filled skin. The x-ray tech in training had not
learned to control his expressions. He did great with the elbow but the first x-ray of the knee
& leg he turned pale and
looked to his trainer for guidance. I knew at this point that something was horribly wrong. The room starts
clearing and I finally see my hero, my husband. The face representing the heart
that allows me to be weak. The tears are finally free to come down. They do,
like the flood gates have been opened to allow all my defenses to weaken and
crumble into dust. I’m crying
uncontrollably and we’re praying in a groaning only the Lord can understand. In
come the doctors trying to explain to us what’s happened. I can’t focus. The
crumbled glass is literally dripping from my body onto the sheets & the
floor. I can hear the doctor’s footsteps and the crunching of the glass. He
says I’ve crushed the top of my tibia; I have a busted tibial plateau &
broken elbow. My family starts coming in
one at a time. All causing a new eruption of tears. Each as I'm praying and
thanking God that I get to see them again. One more hug, one more kiss because
I know I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be alive. The Lord has saved me for a
reason. I am here for a reason and I am loved.
I get moved to a room. My room is on the gastroenterology floor, there were
none available on the orthopedic floor.
This also ends up blessing me without measure. The women that work this
floor are incredible. I am so honored to have spent this length of time with
them. They were warm, loving, and
soothing. They made me feel as if I were a guest in their home. They weren't my nurses, they were my friends.
We all became so close during my time there. I was able to learn so much about
them while I was there. Being a nurse may have been their profession but they
were so much more. They were missionaries, moms, artists and so much more. They left a lasting impression in my heart.
I finally get to see photos of the truck. I had no idea it was that bad. Everything on it is crushed, completely unrecognizable. The only spot on the entire truck is what I've grown
to refer to is my Jesus shaped bubble. It’s large enough to fit only my body. There’s no logical explanation why
this part of the truck would remain untouched. This can only be described as a miracle straight from God. He
was in that truck with me, protecting me.
Over the next few days I had many
guests, texts, phone calls & Facebook messages. They were all so
heartwarming; each came with a new eruption of tears. I have to say going in to the ER that night I
honestly believed had a funeral been in order the room would be empty. By the
time my last day there came I felt a love I can’t explain. The only thing I can
liken it to is the feeling you have when you were saved. So much love welling
up inside me longing to erupt. If you've
never read The Shack by Paul Young. I reccommend it. It's a life changing book.
One quote from his book states “Don't ever discount the wonder of
your tears. They can be healing waters and a stream of joy. Sometimes they are
the best words the heart can speak.”
I had the wreck on Thursday, January 23rd. I wasn't able to have surgery
until the following Monday. I was released to come home on Thursday the 30th.
At this point I was still covered in glass.
My family turned into a tribe of monkeys helping me wash a pluck glass
from my hair and skin. Glass worked it's way out of my skin for months. I can't bathe or use the
restroom unassisted. I'm in constant pain. My family is taking it in shifts
because I can't be left alone. The doctors say it will be six to twelve months
before I can even think about walking again.
I am chair bound, I can't do anything by myself. I can hardly do
anything assisted. The pain is often unbearable. Throughout it all I had the
most consuming sense of peace that I could not explain. I was not working. That
missing paycheck alone should have had me in shambles. But that coupled with immobility
and complete reliance on others to handle basic daily functions when I'm so
self sufficient should have had me close to a nervous breakdown. I couldn't
even explain how I felt. It was this odd, warm, snuggly, calm . . . I was
happy. I had forgotten how it felt. I was genuinly at peace and consumed with
happiness. This doesn't make any sense. I'm not worried about money. The bills
are paid, we have groceries in the kitchen. Where is all this coming from.
People these days don't believe in miracles anymore. When we think of miracles
we think of Jesus healing the blind, or Lazarus being raised from the
dead. What if miracles are still being
performed today. What if we have hardened ourselves to not seeing them. What
if, out of fear, we just choose to not see them.
I've heard a lot of theories about what happened that day on January 23rd
when my world stopped.
Here's what I can tell you:
My truck, as you can tell from the photos, is crushed from front to back. The only part of that truck that
isn't crushed is my Jesus shaped bubble only big enough for my body. That is
where I was held in His arms. That is where I met Jesus.
The doctors said it would be 6-12 months before I could even consider
walking again.
By February 26th I took my first step using a walker.
By March 20th I was learning to use crutches.
On Friday, April 18th I was given the okay to go full weight bearing on my
leg. My physical therapist, Amy, made a special trip to my house to start the
process of learning how to walk again.
In May I was here to celebrate my sons 12th birthday at Incredible Pizza, I went to Huntsville to see Cirque
Du Soleil for mothers day, I
went to ICC to see my daughters college graduation, I photographed the Tupelo Strong charity pageant benefitting
those affected by tornados.
In June I went on a weekend getaway with my husband. He's my hero.
In July we went to the great smoky mountains where I hiked two miles up a
mountain to see one of God’s great wonders, a beautiful waterfall. So to sum it up I am here for a reason. My life and events leading up to
this season were never by mistake. I believe in my heart that the Father above
has a plan for my life. I believe no longer that I’m a mistake. I have been
planted here for a reason. I wake up every morning longing for Him to reveal to
me His plan .He is in charge of my life and leading it. I am a child of the
living God and he is still performing miracles today. I am living proof of
that.
So I challenge you today two things.
#1 Rethink Mirriam Websters definition
of "success". What is true wealth? Who's respect do you crave in your
heart? And fame, my name is written in the Lamb's book of life.
And #2 Do you believe in miracles? Have you hardened yourself against them?
Out of fear do you choose to rename them things like luck or surprise?
