Your Story Matters (by Karen Lindberg)

In August of 2020, our 12-year-old son was accidentally shot and paralyzed while playing at a friend’s house. Up to that point, I would consider myself to be a fairly private person. I have never loved having my life on display or sharing personal details with people that I wasn’t extremely close to. Given that, I was hesitant to share much on social media at the time of the accident, but my husband is very much the opposite of me and felt that social media was our best avenue to keep our friends and family updated and to ask for prayers that our son so desperately needed. So, we made a post that first night informing everyone of the accident, which led to small updates as Nash navigated the early days of his accident.  As time went on, we began updating daily – it was an incredible way to keep everyone informed and also somewhat of a journal for us as we documented our story. 

The posts began to grow as our story began to grow and the week that Nash came home, I wrote a very personal blog sharing some of my deepest fears, concerns and struggles from the previous 10 weeks. It wasn’t the first time that I had written a blog, but it was definitely the most raw and vulnerable that I have ever been while writing. I had no idea what to expect as the world woke to the words of a heartbroken, scared, bitter mom that was also filled with hope, love and determination to climb a mountain with as much grace, compassion and dignity as possible. To my surprise, the response was incredible. Not only did people lift me up and meet me where I was, but they also started reaching out to me more and more with their stories.  That’s when I started to realize that our story was meant to be shared.

As time has progressed, I have written many more blogs – some about the accident, some about other topics that hit my heart, and I feel compelled to share – all of them deeply personal. Recently I wrote about our long battle with infertility and soon after I was approached by a woman whom I deeply respect that began telling me about her battle as well. I had no idea prior to this that she was in this battle but was thankful for the opportunity to pray with her. Time after time, as I share stories, I have more opportunities to meet people with battles much like mine.  People that are quietly looking for a tribe to stand behind them. People that have incredible stories waiting to be told.

Shortly after Nash’s accident, we had someone tell us that in a few years Nash’s story would be forgotten – that eventually nobody would remember what happened to Nash. I remember those words piercing through me. I couldn’t even fathom him going through something so horrible and people not realizing what a warrior he was. At that point I promised myself that Nash’s story would not die on my watch.  At the time, I needed his story to stay alive for me – but now I know that his story needs to stay alive for a much bigger purpose.  His story needs to be told to help the next child that survives a spinal cord injury. My story needs to be told to help the next mom that is crying in a dark hospital corner and has no idea how she will be a support for her child when she can barely muster up the strength to pick herself up. My dear friends courageous battle with breast cancer deserves to be told as a light in the darkness for the next woman that will hear the unthinkable. My dad’s story of his battle with leukemia needs to be told as a model of how to face the worst circumstance with grace, kindness and dignity.  There are so many stories that need to be told.  Not for the people that have lived them, but for the people that are about to live them.   

Your story matters! No matter how big or small – no matter how impactful or trivial – no matter how long ago it was – someone needs to hear your story! As cliché as it sounds, it is true that your story will become someone else’s survival guide. Your story is courageous and unique and incredible, and the world deserves to hear it! So…what story can you share today that just may help someone that is quietly suffering? I can promise you that it’s worth telling.