Friday 18 January 2019

We crossed the lake.

This will probably be my last note to you, snowmobiler from Lac Morency. I told you in my first letter that I wanted to go back to the lake to finish crossing it. I wanted to do it for over five years.  I envisioned a big crowd of people joining us in the celebration of life and crossing the lake together, snowmobiles and all. I attempted to plan it several times, and I'd get so excited, staying awake at night thinking of going back and celebrating. I guess deep down I was hoping that many people involved in the rescue and --  you -- would be there.  Living far enough from this place made it complicated for those plans to go through.  I also came to realize that the word "celebration" was not what it would mean for many people from the community of Lac Morency, many who perhaps didn't want to remember.


But my husband and I, we couldn't forget, it has shaped our story, we are reminded of it through the residual pain. Our family and friends also remember. So finally, we just did it, on the second day of 2019. Seven of our family members joined us, on very short notice.  No crowd, no media, just us.

It was a beautiful sunny day, so nice and warm. We went across the lake to St.Hippolyte and stopped at the grocery store like we did that night 6 years ago. We checked out the church in town; it was closed this time, but for some reason, on that night in 2013, it was open, we'd stayed there for an hour, talking, before starting to cross the lake just before you did...

Then our lively group went back across the lake which is the part that we didn't get to finish in 2013... I was excited through the whole journey, chatting away, remembering. At some point I was recalling the details of that night, excitedly, when everyone got quiet and came closer.  "Are you ok?",- asked my brother. "Yes. Why?" "We are surrounding you" said a cousin. That's when I saw two snowmobiles approaching us. I was surprised that I didn't even hear their roar.  Then again, they were going much slower and quieter than you guys did. So I had to say several times that the snowmobiles that hit me, 'they really drove faster than that', lest our crew thought that we'd made the whole thing up.


Then we came to the spot that we figured was where you'd hit me (we didn't quite agree on the exact location, but I could't argue with my husband because I was looking around from the ground after my encounter with your machine).  We popped a bottle of champaign and we raised a toast to celebrate Life. We sang Come Thou Fount a song of praise, the same that we uttered that night while waiting for help while my husband tried to keep me awake, the song we had sung just a week before on our wedding day. The language of the lyrics is old, but it so well describes our experience on Lac Morency, from that night in January 2013, until the day we offered praise and thanks to Jesus at the same place...  Ebenezer is a Stone of Help put in the place where God came to the rescue.  That night, He did, and I can't deny it. When my strength was gone but I was still conscious, I started to call Him by name: Jesus, Jesus! -- the only One I knew who could save me. He sent help. So here I raise my Ebenezer...


I felt like I needed to feel something special, or grieve, but mainly, I felt excitement. It's been a long journey, and so much freedom from fear has come. Back when I first arrived in the emergency room I asked the doctor if I could walk again, and he said yes. "Can I have children?" "Yes".  Here we were, six years later, skiing, with our precious gift of life in a backpack. After delivering our baby in 2017 my husband and I felt that we had reached a new "before" and "after" in our story, it was Life celebrated, Love that cast out all fear.  I always wanted to know if labour pain would be as unbearable as it was for me that night on the lake, after my femur, both tibias and fibulas, knees and ankles were shattered. I am happy to say that it never got that bad during labour, intense as it was.



No guilt in life, no fear in death...  This was another song my husband and I whispered that night. It could have become my last song, instead it is our hymn of life. Each day is a gift.

After a few minutes of remembering and singing at the place of our distress, my baby looked at me and started crying. It was time to get off the lake, time to celebrate life, to be in the present.  I stayed behind, alone, for a few more minutes... Two more snowmobiles passed by. No fear.

I know I will likely never hear from you. I want to tell you this: God loves you. Jesus Christ lived and died and He lives forever. He has already come to the court room and took the consequences of your action that night upon Himself. He went to jail for you. He paid the price of all the medical bills. He gave His life on the cross for all of your and my transgressions. He is now waiting for you to come to Him so you, too, can be free from fear, free from guilt, free from shame. In Jesus there is now no condemnation. He will show you the way to His Father's heart and His home. In our Father's house, there are many rooms. I hope and pray that you and I will finally meet there, face to face.

I forgive you snowmobiler.

Wednesday 27 January 2016

a note to the fella I don't know but care about

"There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love... God is love" (apostle John)

Hey...  It's been a year since I posted my letter to you. I want to send another note hoping you'll come across it although it seems impossible . I pray for you and I hope you remember.  

January 27, 2016.  Today, my husband and I are celebrating our 3rd anniversary of life. You?..
Posting my first letter to you helped me to move on. I felt excited about this tangible opportunity to actually reach you. Forgiveness spoken out made me feel stronger and braver.  Even in the face of fears that I kept battling, it gave me confidence that I would overcome them. 

I saw a dream about you again.  It was an emotional dream, it was good...

My husband continued to be my main cheerleader. He helped me to do brave things,  like kayaking in the open ocean, going back on a climbing wall, camping in the areas more wild than would have been my safer choice,  and learning to drive...

I continued working with a trainer towards my  my mobility goals.  In April I joined the celebration of  35 years since Terry Fox started his marathon of hope.   I didn't expect to run the commemorated 4.2 km, or to go that long.  I had just learned to do the jogging motions. Vision of Terry who pushed through several months of running a marathon a day on an artificial leg inspired me to do my best. I was impacted by the words from his journal “It snowed all day long, fortunately it didn’t stay on the road. It was very, very cold today. Fortunately, the wind was at my back. The terrain was rolly but not big hills. The first miles were like usual tough, but I felt quite good from there till the end of 10 miles.” From my first Terry Fox event with a walker in 2013, 8 months after you ran me over, I said to myself "If Terry can do it, I can do it". So in April, I jogged in the slushy streets of the city... from this pole to that tree... to that car...to the corner of the building.  I felt that if I stopped I wouldn't have the energy to even walk.  I didn't expect to go for more than a few minutes so I didn't set the pedometer to count the distance.   But I thought of Terry and I kept going... Beautiful strong runners were passing me, probably wondering why this hopping person pretends to be running. But they smiled and I kept going, my husband cheering me all the way.   After half an hour I had to stop. I walked.  Then I jogged again, a bit up the hill.  I couldn't believe I was doing it.  It seemed impossible but it was happening. At the end, I ended up jogging for almost 4 km. "I want to try the impossible to show that it can be done" (Terry Fox)

I wasn’t able to repeat that distance until the next Terry Fox Run in September. 
Driving has been a challenge. I never got my license so I’ve been working on my driving skills for a year now. I had such anxiety when I first started, battling visions of me hitting someone or someone hitting me. Then one night a drunk driver ran into our parked car. Three cars got wracked. Miraculously, nobody else was around, so the driver got away with minor injuries and lost his license for a while. I found myself praising God for His protection and peace that filled my heart as I was collecting our belongings from the totalled car. Shortly after, I was touched deeply but a song that proclaimed that “I’m no longer a slave to fear, I am a child of God”.

And so my journey of overcoming continues. A month ago, on the New Year’s Eve, I put on my ski boots for the first time in 3 years. The boots and my hat were the only things that remained from that day. My husband and his brothers were with me, and together, we went cross country skiing for 10 km, celebrating life.  I was ready. I felt happy. I was surprised. 

Then last week we were cross country skiing in the woods near our home, and the snow was deep enough to share the wild trails with snowmobiles. I didn’t see or hear them, but  as I went on the snowmobile tracks, I was overcome with emotion. I felt sick to my stomach and I grieved the innocence I’d lost that night when nothing was supposed to disturb the quietness of our honeymoon… 

But I am alive. I’m no longer a slave to fear. I am a child of God. 

And so are you. 

One day, I will be back on the lake to complete it. Will you come? 




Thursday 26 February 2015

Respirer et Pardonner.Une letter à la personne qui m’a frapper avec sa motoneige

La vue sur les montagnes de la Colombie-Britannique, où nous avons choisi de venir pour notre deuxième anniversaire de marriage, est à couper le souffle.

Une jeune fille à la location de ski m'a demandé si j’étais prête pour faire du ski aujourd'hui. "Non" je lui ai dit, "seul mon mari ira skier. Je suis toujours en convalescence de graves blessures.”   “Eh bien, peut-être la prochaine fois” dit-elle gaiement.  "Ouais" Je lui rendit son sourire, "peut-être l'année prochaine."

J’ai remarquée des motoneiges au pied de la montagne. “Est-ce qu'ils ont leur propre sentiers?”  Elle m'a rassurée que oui, donc je n’ai pas besoin de m’inquiéter. J’ai essayée de détendre le serrement que je resens dans ma poitrine à la vue d'une motoneige.  Chaque fois que j’en vois une, je pense à toi.  J’ai donc décidée de vous écrire une lettre en espérant que ça va venir à ta porter.  J’aimerais entendre de votre part, mais j’en doute que cela se produira. Je doit l’écrire quand même.

Pensez-vous de moi quand vous voyez des gens en ski de fond ou une fille dans une chaise roulante?  Vous souvenez-vous de ce soir-là, il ya deux ans, lorsque vous et vos copains sont allés pour une balade sur vos motoneiges à travers le Lac Morency?  Avez-vous ressenti même que vous avez frappez quelqu'un avec votre machine puissante ce soir-là?  Pensiez-vous pour un moment d’arrêter vérifier ce qui c`est passé?  Avez-vous entendu ce qui m’est arrivée après que vous êtes venue dans l’assaut dans nos vies?  Je suppose que oui, car il a fait les nouvelles tout le chemin jusqu’à Calgary:  "Au Québec, une femme de 29 ans a été frappée par une motoneige dans un accident avec délit de fuite alors qu'elle était sur ​​sa lune de miel”.

Le 27 janvier, 2013.... Mon mari et moi avons apprécié le ski de fond à travers Saint- Hippolyte tôt dans la journée, le huitième jour de notre lune de miel.  Nous étions sur le chemin de retour vers l’Auberge, nous traversions le lac à la lumière de la pleine lune   qui se reflètait sur la neige fraîche quand la nuit a été percé par le rugissement de vos motoneiges.  Nous nous sommes arrêtés, pas sûr de la façon dont vous iriez autour de nous.  La première motoneige est venu si près de moi qu’elle a frappé mon bâton.  J’ai accroché le bras de mon mari et j’ai regardé par-dessus mon épaule (c’était à cause de cette position que mon dos n'a pas été blessé).  “Penses-tu qu'ils nous voient?” Je lui ai demandé pendant que nous regardions votre motoneige accélérer sur le lac.  “Je suis sûr que oui” dit mon mari, ses mots étouffée par mes cris quand j’ai réalisé que vous veniez droit sur moi.

Mon mari m'a retrouvé dix mètres de mes skis, étendu sur la neige.  J’ouvris les yeux et je me sentais comme dans un jeu de Tetris lorsque les blocs tombent l’une sur l'autre de façon incontrollable, le jeu était fini pour moi.  Je lui dit: “Ils m’ont cassé mon amour, je meurs”.

La douleur était si intense, mon corps était en train d'exploser à l'agonie.  Alors que mon mari fesait une évaluation de premiers soins en cas d'hémorragie, il pria avec ferveur en invoquant le nom de Jésus pour me sauver la vie.  J’ai pensé que s’il se bat pour moi, je dois au moins essayer de remuer mes orteils ... parce que vous voyez, je craignais que mon dos était cassé... mais mes orteils bougaient.  Ce bref moment d'espoir est resté avec moi pendant la douleur et le déception des mois suivants.  Mon mari a essayé de vous appeler pour revenir nous aider.  Vous avez arête brievement pour voir ce que vous avez frapper et vous vous êtes sauver.   Vous n’êtes jamais revenu.  Vous m’avez laissé mourir sur ce lac froid, sans peine, sous la pleine lune .

Mon mari et moi étions tout seuls dans le calme de cette belle nuit sur ​​le lac.  Pas de téléphone cellulaire, pas de gens autour et nous étions assez loin de l’Auberge qu'il était impossible que mon mari me quitte pour aller chercher de l'aide, craignant de me laisser seule sur le lac.  Il avait peur qu'une autre motoneige arrive et m’écrase (et il avait raison... était-ce vous venu vérifier ce qui c’est passé?) J’avais peur de mourir alors qu'il serait absent.  Il fesait -20°C ou plus, donc je devenait rapidement hypothermique.  Mon mari a essayé de me porter dans ses bras, mais la douleur était plus que je pouvais supporter.  Après quelques pas, il devait me remettre sur la neige.  Pour la deuxième fois cette nuit, je croyais mourrir.

Pourtant, je sais que nous n’étions pas seuls. Nous avons prié ensemble et j’ai commencé à dire au revoir à mon mari de huit jours.  Après environ une demi- heure un vieux couple est venu au bord du lac.  Ils ont entendu nos appels à l'aide et ont signalé notre situation à la reception. (Nous n’avons jamais eu vos noms et si vous lisez ceci, s’il vous plait, sachez que nous remercions Dieu pour vous, nous savons qu'Il vous a envoyé à notre secours en réponse à nos prières).

Je n’ai jamais perdu conscience à travers tout cela, mais quand l'ambulance était sur ​​le point de partir pour l'hôpital, j’ai senti que j’étais sur le point de le perdre.  Donc, avec le reste de mes forces j’ai dit à mon mari que je l'aimais et que "je leur pardonne, qui qu'ils soient, je leur pardonne." J’ai resenti une urgence au fond de mon cœur de vous aimer et de vous pardoner.  Je ne savais toujours pas ce qu’allait se passer mais je me souviens d’avoir pensé que je voulais laisser mon mari avec cela en cas que je meurs.

Je crois que que le pardon a été mit dans mon cœur par le Seigneur, ce qui nous a protégés de l'amertume dans les mois à venir.  “Pardonner les uns les autres comme le Seigneur vous a pardonné ... aimez vos ennemis ... priez pour ceux qui vous a blessé”. Tout d'un coup les mots de mon Sauveur ont prisent un sens beaucoup plus profond.

Plusieurs personnes à l'hôpital se sont excusés pour ce qui s’était passé comme si cela était de leur faute.  Ils nous ont dit que toute la communauté se sentait attristé et que c’était  "une honte pour le sport de la motoneige".

J’espère qu'il n'y a pas plus de menace pour la sécurité de cette belle communauté causée par la conduite imprudente de quiconque.

Vous sentez-vous soulagé que vous vous êtes échappé de responsabilités civil et financières?  Saviez-vous qu'au Québec, une motoneige n’​​est pas considéré comme un véhicule motorisé et que nous n’aurions même pas été en mesure de vous emmener en cours.  De toute façon, j’aimerais bien plutôt vous parler face à face en prennant un café que d’aller en cours.  Les accidents arrivent.   Même que parfois dans la vie, nous blessons ceux que nous aimons le plus.  Pourtant, c’est notre choix d’être honnête et courageux.

Ma compagnie d'assurance a refusé notre demande sur la base que nous étions en train de “participer à un sport dangereux” de sorte qu'il a fallu des mois pour trier notre dette médicale croissante.  Après une longue épreuve avec bien trop de détails de mentionner ici, nous étions remboursés en sorte par la compagnie d’assurance de mon mari.  (Ma facture médicale est maintenant près de 100 000$. Alors, si votre conscience vous le dite, n’hésitez pas à faire des dons en mon nom à une organisme de bienfaisance pour les enfants car c’est mon domaine de travail et ma passion de vie).

Faites-vous encore de la motoneige ?  Est-ce que cette nuit-là vous revient dans un cauchemar? Je vous ai vu une fois dans un rêve. Je ne vous connait pas mais j’ai vu votre visage clairement.  J’ai vu votre mère qui vous parlait ... elle vous a interrogé, elle savait que c’était vous qui avait fait cela. Je me suis réveillé dans la sueur et j’ai commencé à prier pour vous.

J’ai prié pour vous tout ce temps, je vous souhaite trouver le pardon et la paix que personne ne peut vous enlever. J’ai tellement de questions et parfois je vous parle dans ma tête en imaginant que vous êtes assis l’autre bord de la table et que nous prennons un café ensembles et que nous partageons nos histoires de vie après l'accident.
Le lac – les rayons-x – les marches en chaise roulante 

À l'hôpital, ils ont dit que j’étais chanceuse.  J’avais subi plus qu'une douzaine de fractures dans les deux jambes. Mon fémur a été brisé à trois endroits, c’était un veritable miracle qu'un morceau flottant n’avait pas percé mon artère fémorale. Les gens meurent en quatre minutes d'hémorragie interne. 

Je sais que ce n’étais pas la "chance", j’étais béni.  Le Seigneur veillait sur moi et m'a sauvé la vie.  J’ai demandé au médecin si je marcherais à nouveau un jour.  Il a dit oui.  Je lui ai demandé si je pouvais encore avoir des enfants. Il a dit oui.  Il y avait de l'espoir.  Je ne savais pas combien de temps la voie du redressement serait ou à quell point il serait douloureuse.  Pourtant, en traversant la vallée de larmes, nous avons découvert la rivière de la vie en elle.

Il m'a fallu un an pour recommencer à marcher sans aucun dispositif de marche.   Avant ma plus récente chirurgie en Octobre 2014,  j’ai pu faire un peu de vélo et j’ai commencé à courir cinq minutes à la fois. Je reprends mes forces et je continue à travailler ma mobilité. Parfois je me sens fatigué et découragé, quand le temps est long avant que je percoit une amélioration dans mon énergie ou mes forces. Par contre, je me souviens à quel point je suis venu à date grace au soutien tendre de mon super-héros (mon mari), ma grande équipe médicale, des prières et des soins de ma famille et de mes amis et surtout de la touche de guérison de Dieu mon Père.

En 2013, j’ai participer à ma première course de Terry Fox à l'aide d'une marchette et d’une chaise roulante. Mon mari et mon l'avons fait à la mémoire de son père et de mon grand-père.  Nous les avions perdu au cancer dans les deux mois suivant l'accident.

J’ai gardé mes vieilles guêtres, les morceaux de mes bâtons de ski et les fixations.
J’ai faite ce collage l'année dernière lorsque 
la douleur m’accablait, le premier anniversaire de l'accident.

Je vous conte mon histoire avec cette lettre car je n’ai pas d'autre moyen de vous rejoindre.  J’aimerais bien vous le dire en personne.  J’aimerais aussi entendre votre histoire. Je suppose que je n’aurai jamais la chance de vous le dire en personne mais sachiez que vous avez mon pardon inconditionelle et que le pardon de Dieu est aussi le vôtre à recevoir.

Je prie que cette lettre vous trouve 
pour que vous sachiez que je vous pardonne.

Mon mari et moi tenons à exprimer notre profonde gratitude au Directeur et le personnel de l'Auberge du Lac Morency, aux “bonnes motoneigistes” qui sont venus à notre secours, aux pompiers étonnantes, aux ambulanciers qui ont fourni les premiers soins, à l'agent du sureté de Québec et à tout son équipe.

Notre plus profond merci à mon superbe chirurgien et son équipe et aux merveilleuses infirmières de l'Hôtel-Dieu de Saint-Jérôme qui s’occupaient de nous à grand coeur.  Je suis reconnaissante pour mes chirurgiens brillants et à la grande équipe de professionnels de la santé étonnantes qui m’ont suivi et soutennus à travers ce voyage pénible. Nous prions pour la paix et la force de Dieu sur vous tous 


P.S.  21 mois après l’accident, nous avons trouver le courage de revenir à Saint-Hippolyte et le lac Morency.  Nous avons pagayé un canot à l’endroit où nous pensons que l’accident a eu lieu et j’ai placé des fleurs sur l’eau tout en louant Dieu d’avoir été là avec moi à chaque étape du chemin.  J’ai senti la paix et je savais que je reviendrais un jour.  Quand je serai en mesure de faire du ski de fond à nouveau, j’espère y réunir avec ma famille, des amis et des citoyens pour terminer traversé le lac.  Vous êtes le bienvenue à venir vous joindre à nous anonnyme lorsque vous entendiez de cette célébration de la vie sur le lac Morency. 

email: ididforgiveyou@gmail.com 

Wednesday 28 January 2015

a letter to the snowmobiler who hit me

January 2015... The view of the mountains in BC, where we chose to come for our second anniversary, is breathtaking. A girl at the ski rental asked me if I was ready for skiing today. “No” I said, “Only my husband is going to ski. I’m still recovering from some injuries.”  “ Well maybe next time”, she said cheerfully. “Yeah” I smiled back at her, “hopefully next year”.  I noticed snowmobiles at the foot of the mountain. “Do they have their own trail?”  She reassured me they do, so I don’t need to worry. I tried to relax the tightness in my chest that I always feel at the sight of a snowmobile. Every time I see one, I think of you.  So I decided to write you a letter hoping you will come across it.  I’d like to hear back, though I doubt it will ever happen. But I will write anyway…

Do you think of me when you see people cross country skiing or a girl in a wheel chair? Do you remember that night two years ago when you and your buddies went for a joy ride on your snowmobiles across Lac Morency?  Did you even feel that you hit somebody with your souped up machine that night? Did you think for a moment of stopping to check what it was? Did you hear what happened to me after you stormed through our lives? I assume you did because it made the news all the way to Calgary  “A 29 y.o. female was hit by a snowmobile on her honeymoon in a hit-and-run accident in Quebec”. 

January 27, 2013... My husband and I had enjoyed cross country skiing through St. Hippolyte earlier that day, day 8 of our honeymoon. We were on the way to our auberge crossing the lake in the full moon light reflected on the fresh snow when the still night was pierced by the roar of your snowmobiles. We stopped, not sure which way you’d go around us… The first snowmobile came so close to me, it hit my pole. I grabbed my husband’s arm and looked behind my shoulder (it was much due to that pose that my back wasn’t injured). “Do you think they see us?” I asked as we watched your snowmobile storming through the lake dangerously fast. “I’m sure they do”, said my husband, his words covered by my screaming as I realized you were coming straight at me…  My husband found me ten meters away from my skis, lying on the snow. I opened my eyes and it felt that, like in a game of Tetris when the blocks fall on each other uncontrollably, the game was over for me. “They broke me honey, I am dying…”  The pain was so intense, my mind was exploding in agony. As my husband did a first aid assessment for bleeding, he prayed fervently, calling on the name of Jesus to save my life. I thought, if he’s fighting for me I should at least try to wiggle my toes… for you see, I feared that my back was broken…but my toes moved! That moment of hope stuck with me through the following months of pain and disappointment.  My husband did try to call you to stop to come help us. But you never stopped. And you never came back. So we were all alone in the quietness of that beautiful night on the lake, no cell phone, no people around, we were far enough from the resort that it wasn’t possible for my husband to go get help, fearing to leave me lying alone on the lake. He was afraid another snowmobile might come (and it did… was it you checking what happened?) and I was afraid that I’d die alone while he was away.  It was -20 C or even colder, so I was quickly getting hypothermic. My husband tried to carry me but the pain was more than I could bear. After a few meters he had to place me back on the snow.  For the second time that night I wondered if I was going to die. 
Yet I know we were not alone. We prayed together and I started saying goodbye to my husband of eight days. After about half an hour an older couple came to the edge of the lake. They heard his cries for help and reported to the resort… (We never got your names, and if you’re reading this, please know that we constantly thank God for you, we know He sent you to our aid).

I never lost consciousness through it all, but as the ambulance was about to leave for the hospital, I felt that I was about to lose it. So with the remaining strength I told my husband that I loved him and that “I forgive them, whoever they are, I forgive them.” I felt deep urgency in my heart to love him and to forgive you, I still didn’t know what was going to happen, I remember thinking that I wanted to leave him with that if I was going to die. I believe that that forgiveness was pressed on my heart by the Lord, it protected us from bitterness in the months to come.  "Forgive each other as the Lord has forgiven you... Love your enemies... Pray for those who hurt you..." All of a sudden the words of my Saviour took on a much deeper meaning.

Several people in the hospital apologized to us for what had happened as if it was their fault, they said the whole community felt sorry and it was “a shame to the sport of snowmobiling”… I hope there is no more threat to the safety of that beautiful community caused by anyone’s careless driving.

Do you feel relieved that you escaped legal and financial responsibilities? Did you know that in Quebec a snowmobile is not considered a motorized vehicle, and we wouldn't even be able to take you to court.... Either way, I'd much rather talk to you face to face over coffee than at the court. Accidents do happen. And even those we love the most, we hurt. Yet it is our choice to be honest and courageous in stepping up to own up to the wrong we did.

My insurance company "Seven Corners" denied our claim on the basis that we were “participating in a hazardous sport”, so it took months to sort our growing medical debt, after a  long ordeal with too many details to mention here, we got things covered by my husband's automobile insurance. (My medical bill has reached over $100 000 by now. So feel free to donate funds to a children’s charity in my name if your conscience ever bothers you, for that is my field of work and my heart).  Do you continue to snowmobile?.. Does that night ever come back to you in a nightmare? I have seen you once in a dream. I have never seen you but I saw your face clearly.  I saw your mother talking to you... She challenged you, she knew it was you who had done it... I woke up in sweat and started praying for you.   I have been praying for you all this time, that you would find a forgiveness and peace that no one can take away from you.  I have so many questions and sometimes I talk to you in my head imagining you sitting across a table as we drink coffee and share our stories of life after the accident…


the lake.. the x-rays... the walks... 
In the hospital they said we were lucky. I had sustained over a dozen breaks in both legs. My femur was broken in three places, it was a miracle that a floating piece hadn’t pierced my femoral artery -- people die in four minutes of internal bleeding in that area. I know I wasn’t “lucky”, I was blessed. The Lord watched over us, preserving our lives. I asked the doctor if I’d walk again. He said I would. I asked if I could have children. He said I could. There was hope. I just didn’t know how long and painful the journey would be.  Yet as we walked through the valley of tears we discovered streams of life in it. 

It took me a year to stat walking without any walking devices. Before my most recent surgery in October 2014 I was able to bike and started to jog five minutes at a time. I am regaining my strength and continue working on my mobility. Sometimes I feel tired and discouraged when it feels that it's been so long and there seem to be no improvement in my energy or strength level. Then I remember how far I've already come, with tender support of my hero of a husband, great medical team, prayers and care of so many family and friends and the healing touch of my Father God. I did my first Terry Fox Run in 2013 using a walker and a wheelchair. We did it in memory of my husband’s dad and my grandpa, we had lost them both to cancer within two months of the accident.  

I’ve kept my burned gaiters, the broken pieces of my ski poles and bindings. 
I turned them into a collage on the snow last year 
as the grief overwhelmed me on the first anniversary of the accident
I'm telling you my story because I have no other way of reaching you. I’d rather tell it to you in person. I’d like to hear your story. I’m guessing I’ll never have a chance to… Please know that you have my forgiveness. And that God’s forgiveness is also yours to receive.


I pray that you will come across this letter 
and hear that I forgive you. 

My husband and I want to express our deep gratitude to the owner and staff of the Auberge du Lac Morency and the “good snowmobilers” who came to our rescue, to the amazing firefighters and the paramedics who provided first aid, to the police officer and his team. Our deepest thank you to my superb surgeon and his team, and the wonderful, wonderful nurses of Hotel-Dieu St. Jerome who cared for us with their hearts. I am thankful for my brilliant surgeons and the big team of amazing medical professionals who followed up with me as we moved on and who have been supporting us through this journey. We pray for God’s peace and strength over all of you.


PS. We found courage to revisit St. Hippolyte and Lac Morency 21 months after the accident. As we canoed to the place where we believe the accident had stopped us, I floated flowers on the water and praised my God for being there with me, every step of the way. I felt peace and I knew I would come back. When I am able to ski again, I hope to gather friends and finish crossing the lake. You are welcome to join us anonymously when you hear of the big shindig of a celebration of Life on Lac Morency.  



ididforgiveyou@gmail.com