Four years ago this December, I was lying in a hospital bed. My family and I had been out Christmas shopping when I suddenly went into septic shock. There was no way for either I or my family to have been prepared for this situation. Our lives had been fairly ordinary before this event that would permanently alter our future.

My prognosis was dreary, and in a moment of desperation I was life-flighted to the only nearby hospital that could diagnose my condition. My father later admitted that he had to face the reality that I was going to die, and that in that moment he had never been more afraid in his life.

I was in such a drug-induced state that I still can’t remember a many of the details from the two weeks I was kept in the hospital, however, I did live. Unfortunately, the treatment I was prescribed only seemed to prolong the hellish torture I was in.

Being a needle-phobic teenager, the last thing I wanted was to have to drive six hours every two weeks to receive a six-hour IV treatment. There was nothing anyone could do to console me. My weeks revolved around the agony of that one day, and every second that I wasn’t in the hospital I was thinking about the next time I would be in the hospital.

For a year, that was my life. My dad and I covered more miles in those short months than I had covered in my entire life. I had other health scares during those months, and it was during one of those scares that my dad admitted to me all the feelings he had felt when he thought he was going to lose me. He told me that he had never been more afraid in his life, but he also told me that the incident in the hospital and every hospital visit after only made it more and more clear to him that every moment we have is a gift from God, and that he was thankful for every one of those moments no matter how enjoyable those moments were. He told me that he was thankful for the hard things in life, because it was the hard things that gave him the perspective he needed to live the way he should.

I was only a self-absorbed teenager at the time, and I didn’t really understand the value in what he was telling me. However, in the last four years I have come to seen it more clearly that I ever could if it weren’t for the hard things I’ve been through. My health actually improved, but while I was thrilled that I finally had my life back, my dad lost his in a snowmobiling accident.

Like with every other problem in my life, I tried to ignore it, and pretend that it wasn’t going to affect my life. I lived most of the last couple years, pretending that I was strong enough to push myself through any difficulties. Every problem I faced in the last couple years only seems to compound on my other problems, and with every problem I pulled out of my inward reserve of emotional and physical stamina. However, recently I have had to scrape what seems like the last of my stamina from my reserve to even be able to get out of bed in the morning.

However, I was recently reminded of the incredible insight that my father had four years ago. Looking back, I now have enough perspective to see the blessing in all the hard things that I went through. Even though my health was an incredible burden that I carried and the incessant IV appointments took a toll, they gave me an incredible opportunity to spend quality time with my father that I would never have again. I will never forget the many hours of talk radio we listened to, and the many incredible conversations we had about politics, religion, friends and family. I grew incredibly closer to my father in those couple months than I had ever been before, and looking back I wouldn’t trade those moments for anything.

This clarity has also given me the opportunity to see the design in all the recent tragedies in my life. I can see where I have grown from them, and I can be thankful for all the good things these hardships brought me. Despite this life is only becoming more and more complicated, and while I hope this bout of clarity lasts me a while I can only hope that next Christmas I have as much insight as this Christmas.