June is the month when summer activities are in full swing. It means baseball games and corn on the cob. It means celebrating weddings and anniversaries. It means playing in the backyard with water balloons and sprinklers.

But for me, it also means feeling unsettled. I have this ever-present nervousness that courses through my veins when the calendar turns to June. It’s subtle. So subtle that sometimes I can’t even pinpoint why I’m feeling nervous. And then I remember. It’s June.

On June 20, our family will be eight years out from the scene in this picture. We were traveling to visit Matt’s family for Father’s Day. A man fell asleep, crossed the center line, and hit us head-on.

The months that followed were difficult. Surgeries, hospital stays, doctor appointments, and physical therapy sessions filled our days. Worry over our current situation filled our nights. Many were around us to offer help and yet it is one of the loneliest times of my life.

Eight years later, June still brings feelings of fear and anger. I’m more aware of the dangers on the road. I’m more frustrated by people who don’t seem to care about anyone’s interests but their own. I find myself to be less patient and more critical. Bad memories seem to resurface more easily. And then I tell myself, it’s June. You’re alright.

But even greater than the negative emotions, June brings feelings of celebration. After I woke emotionally from the shock of what we’d been through, I knew I wanted to mark the day of the accident somehow. I wanted to create our own family holiday. And so, after much thought and conversation, we decided to simply call June 20 “Celebrate Day”. On June 20, the Baughmans celebrate family, friends, healing, and the growth that has come out of this challenging time in our lives.

A few months after our accident, I bought a stencil for a wall in our kitchen that reads, Treasure The Time Together. Occasionally, I will look at those words and wipe tears. Because I know how quickly things can change. And I am quite aware of how different things could have gone. And so I treasure the time. And I celebrate what I have.

Psalm 40:1-3 became my life verses following our accident. On October 13, I am going to be leading a workshop about making scripture personal. I will be sharing pieces of my story and using verses from Psalm 40 to invite those who attend to make some of the verses their own. I hope you will consider joining me. I believe it will be a wonderful day.

The verses read, I waited patiently for the Lord to help me, and he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along. He has given me a new song to sing, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see what he has done and be amazed. They will put their trust in the Lord. Peace!