CLARITY THROUGH A WINDSHIELF Learning the Nature of Life and Business The Hard Way
	MARCH 2005

by Linda Edwards
Photos by Russell Byrne

Somebody said, “What does not destroy me, makes me stronger.” I guess I proved by my own experience how literally true that can be.

A break-through opportunity came early in my professional career when I was offered a job, at double my previous salary, to be a regional vice president in a startup company that was trying to bring to the market the now-familiar Entertainment Coupon Books. Ninety days after joining the company my health insurance kicked in — and the very next day I was involved in a life-changing accident.

I had been riding as a passenger, without a seatbelt on, and remember that we had been merging onto an interstate highway and the next thing I knew we were sitting on the shoulder. I blanked out forever the memory of our impact with the car that had crossed right in front of us trying to pull over to the side with a flat tire. The only thing I could imagine was that a meteor had struck us. The force of the impact drove my face through the windshield.

I realized right away that I was in big trouble because through my peripheral vision I could see displaced tissue that had moments before been part of my face. I could tell that I was bleeding heavily. I later discovered that the windshield in front of where I had been sitting had popped out into a hollow glass sculpture of my face.

The first person to the car was a Highway Patrolman who stared through the broken window and probably thought he was looking at an animated skeleton. The skin and flesh had been fully torn away from the bones and teeth of my face on the side he was looking at, even though I was aware, fully conscious, and talking with him. The officer thrust some gauze into my hand, said, “Hold this against your wounds,” and then turned away from me like he was going to be sick.

A cute paramedic named Leslie showed up and I begged her to tell me that I was going to be all right. I desperately needed someone to reassure me that everything was going to be OK and that my face could be fixed. “You’re going to be OK,” Leslie said. And then, probably telling what she figured was a big fat lie, added, “They’ll fix you up so you’ll look fine.”

A Night of Suffering and Miracles
I had a profound experience as I was lying on a gurney riding to the hospital. I could see the night sky through the window of the ambulance and the stars seemed incredibly clear that night in their cold brilliance. During those moments I was blessed with an amazing sense of peace because my spirit was lifted and seemingly held by strong hands. I was filled with serenity as perfect as the calm of those stars that hung unblinkingly in the clear night sky. I was moved by a profound conviction that my life had been spared for a purpose.

While riding in that ambulance the thought came into my mind that perhaps the purpose for the experience was so that God would be able to teach people through me that they could love anyone — even someone who had been hideously deformed. “We really shouldn’t love each other on the basis of our looks,” I thought. “I’ll become Heaven’s best show-and-tell illustration of that.” My mind had come up with what seemed a worst-case purpose for the awful experience I had just gone through, but I was completely resigned even to that. Whatever God was trying to do, it was all right with me.

A lot of miraculous things happened that night. For one thing, the accident didn’t kill me. The impact with the windshield didn’t break my neck. It didn’t even break my jaw. Most amazing was the fact that even though my face had exploded into shreds of flesh, my vision hadn’t been damaged in the slightest.

These were all miracles and I consider each of them to be a lamppost illuminating God’s ability to accomplish His own plans in His own ways. I could have been dead, paralyzed, or blind. But I wasn’t any of those things. Instead I was riding in the back of an ambulance, looking at the stars, and hypothesizing about the direction for my future.

The Long Road Back
That event took place four days before Valentines Day in 1986. I went home on Valentines Day itself and the next day I returned for a nose job. The doctor also attached hooks to my cheekbones and pulled them away from my cheeks where they had become embedded. He also scraped and cut scar tissue from the seams of my wounds where it had grown like some nasty fungus.

Over the next two years I spent an amazing percentage of my time going to the hospital, lying down, getting Novocaine shot into my face, and having the doctor scrape on my facial scar tissue with his assortment of knives, rasps, and files. I started to refer to plastic surgery as my hobby, so I could think more positively about spending so much time there.

I learned to laugh at myself. I would walk by a mirror, see my reflection, and burst into laughter. “I look just like a pig!” I would think. Or “Today I look like a cow!” I thought I was hilarious! A joyful attitude and even good humor during my recovery usually came easy to me, because I never forgot that I should have died. I was spared for a purpose. Whatever God’s plan was, I knew it had to be far greater than the suffering I was going through. With this kind of viewpoint, I was able to simply take my recovery in stride.

My friends were always amazed at my attitude during the time of my recovery. “I can’t believe how you are dealing with this!” they kept saying. “I can’t believe you are happy!” Nobody who hasn’t been in that situation can realize how different the experience seems from the inside looking out than from the outside looking in. I had resources in my mind and my spirit because of the fact that I was walking in the presence of God.

Two years after the accident I had my final surgery and — miracle of miracles — my appearance had been completely restored. Some of my good friends are only finding out that I ever had that experience by reading this article.

Moving Into Success — and Back Out
My new company was great throughout the entire ordeal! I missed a month’s work and then crawled back to work with a face looking like it belonged to a rag doll that had been a plaything for the family dog. I did my work in between my operations.

Everything was fantastic on the business front, but I was really having a conflict at home. After several years of marital difficulty, I was gifted with a beautiful child. As he grew older, I discovered that it was becoming impossible to leave my son for two weeks every month, which is what the job required. I didn’t want to look back with regrets when I grew older because my son had become one of those insufferable brats whose mom and dad never provided the support and the boundaries that would shape him into a normal person.

One night I prayed desperately for guidance and the next day gave my employers three-weeks notice. I turned my back on a great job with a six-figure income because I had found through the windshield of that car a vision of what is most important in life. I had my priorities straight.

I won’t deny that the decision was a very difficult one for me to make. I had been “Linda the Executive,” who hired people, fired them, and ran million-dollar budgets. Now I was a stay-at-home mom with a kid who was doing the terrible twos thing as though it were a performance and he had discovered a gift for driving mom crazy.

The Pathway Back into Business
As Luke grew older and more responsible I felt the need for something that would require me to be more creative and analytical. I wanted to be stretched. I renewed my real estate license, and began doing loans and real estate again. I found a loan office, Diablo Funding, which is a great place to work. Our managers provide us with great support, together with super-sized doses of cooperation and encouragement.

I’m passionate about being a good agent for my clients in the same way that I’m passionate about being a good mother to my son. In both cases I have a sense of being on a mission. I view these things as assignments that I have been given and I make it a central life issue to discharge these successfully. I don’t merely “do my best,” I make things work!

I think that being a parent is, itself, a gift. My son has been given to me to raise and to mold as a child and then as a young person who can develop into a fine adult. All my career choices and personal choices — even the decision about my divorce — have centered on my goal of ensuring that Luke be given the best upbringing possible.

I believe that surviving that accident changed me fundamentally. I was no longer sufficiently selfish, for example, that I could leave a child on his own during a time when, it seemed to me, he desperately needed a full-time mom around. I couldn’t bring myself to sacrifice my son on the altar of my ambition. I firmly believe that I gained clarity about this because of that windshield. If my life had gone along in a smooth unbroken fashion, I might have been too selfish or weak to be able to make the necessary tough choices.

Surviving that awful accident, on the other hand, forced me to examine what is of first and foremost importance in my life. Once I did that, the rest of the pieces of my life could come into focus. The experience made me a better friend, a better Christian, a better businesswoman, and a better mother to my son than could have been possible if nothing bad ever happened to me.

Linda Edwards with Diablo Funding Group
925-634-4600 X242
Linda@diablofundinggroup.com