Beautifully Adapted

Interview by Christina Ries

At a glance, Natalie Peters’ Instagram account looks like the well-curated account of an art scholar. The redheaded beauty appears effortlessly chic in flowing frocks and wide-brimmed hats. Her dark, handsome husband smiles at the helm of a boat, or in a tux by the Christmas tree, nestled close. Their Washington, DC., home is tastefully decorated, and the fruits of their kitchen are magazine-worthy: rosemary pear pie whipped up for Thanksgiving, an Italian pistachio cake with roast plum buttercream for Easter.

But take a closer look, and you’ll see something unexpected: a wheelchair.

On July 16, 2013—just 11 weeks after their wedding— Natalie’s husband, Thom, was in a freak swimming accident that injured his spinal cord at his C5-6 vertebrae. The young couple was devasted, and at the same time, relieved he’d survived, an outcome doctors described as miraculous.

A philosophy major at Ave Maria College who found Pope John Paul II’s writings “hugely influential,” Natalie found herself digging back into the theology of the body. It spoke to her—as a former dancer and as the wife of a quadriplegic.

Natalie promised God she would never shy away from telling others about his saving hand, and her social media presence reflects this. Thom’s wheelchair is neither hidden nor exploited. It’s a part of her mission of “building a beautifully adapted life with my husband (SCI C5/6),” as her Instagram profile states.

Now 36, Natalie works as an art scholar and a personal color analyst. Thom, also 36, is CEO of a company that builds political software. They belong to St. John the Beloved Catholic Church in McLean, Va.

Tell me about the night of Thom’s accident.

I was told there was no chance he would survive the night. And if he did, they said he would be brain dead. The next morning, he woke up and there was no brain damage. He remained in very critical condition for several weeks, and there were many moments when I thought I was losing him.

How were you feeling?

It was a mix of joy and complete heartbreak. I knew we were given a miracle. But it was also devastating to see him suffering and to realize the full impact of his injury.

Just 24 hours beforehand I had watched him tie his tie and kissed him goodbye as he dashed out the door for work. He was my young, perfect, healthy husband. It was surreal.

How has your Catholic faith helped you endure this tragedy?

Faith puts everything into perspective. We are not here to live our best life according to the world’s standards. My faith helps me choose love in the hard moments, knowing these acts can be sanctifying if done in love instead of resentment or anger. Knowing that this is part of God’s plan for us has been very consoling.

I’ve learned that I can do really hard things with God’s grace.

- Natalie Peters

Specifically, how do St. John Paul II’s teachings on the theology of the body influence your thinking about the injury and its aftermath?

It gives me a new perspective on “gift of self.” I feel like I was given the gift of my spouse twice—first in marriage and again in his survival. But also, when I care for him with love, I can perpetuate that giving. When he accepts my help with love for me, he returns the gift. It is beautiful how this concept can be lived out in real, tangible ways.

When were you first introduced to the theology of the body?

In high school. I was fortunate to learn these concepts at such a critical age.

Did it speak to you as a former dancer?

Yes, definitely. It is impossible to experience the joy of dance and movement without also appreciating the intimate union that we have within our body and soul. They move together. They feel together.

I did tap, jazz and ballet, competing nationally through grade school. These days I just dance in my kitchen or in a fitness class.

Can you share a direct quote from TOB that speaks to you?

“The human body…contains ‘from the beginning’…the power to express love: precisely that love in which the person becomes a gift—and through this gift—fulfills the very meaning of his being and existence.” This beautifully contradicts the secular worldview that often sees the human body as an object or a machine. Knowing instead that we are created in love and for love, in God’s own image, reveals our great dignity as human persons. And I think it challenges us to live in a way that is worthy of that reality.

It’s sometimes said we are most fully human when we love as God loves—free, total, faithful and fruitful. What does this mean to you?

First, it’s a reminder to pray for that grace! But more specifically, this is a radical way to love. According to the world’s standard, I’m supposed to feel burdened by Thom’s care, to crave my own autonomy and to put my needs first. But none of that bears fruit or brings happiness. These can only be found in freely loving and serving the other.

Does the “total” description resonate differently now?

Yes, definitely. When there is suffering and pain in life, there can be a temptation to withdraw and hold back. But spouses are called to do the opposite in marriage. It is a love that is total. It holds nothing back—and continues giving even when the other cannot. This is how God loves us and it’s how we are called to love one another. Our difficulties have also brought me into a deeper understanding of just how much God loves each of us.

Have you thought about your role as Thom’s wife and full-time support through this lens of loving as God loves?

I have. But I don’t think it has changed so dramatically since the accident. This is the calling of all married couples. Marriage will require your all no matter what. Though I do appreciate how this does look different for us; I feel it is part of what makes our marriage unique.

Let’s circle back to the idea of self-gift. What’s it like living this out so radically now as you help Thom?

I’m not sure it’s radical. It has been a huge transition, for sure, with sacrifices made by both of us. We were both very independent before the accident. It has been an opportunity to grow in my vocation, and I can honestly say that in all the ways I care for him—helping him get ready in the morning, showering, dressing and so forth—there is a beautiful intimacy that we’re sharing. We get to spend more time together than any couple I know. And we really cherish that.

Do you think about your body differently now, after the accident?

Absolutely. I appreciate more than ever the health and ability I have, especially as I am literally the arms and legs for two people. But I worry sometimes what happens if I get sick or become unable to care for my husband or myself. Ultimately, it is an opportunity to trust in the Lord’s providence. He will help us do whatever needs to be done.

I do prioritize my health and wellness by eating healthy, daily exercise, getting sleep and setting boundaries to manage stress. I love the quote from St. Augustine: “Take care of your body as if you were going to live forever, and take care of your soul as if you were going to die tomorrow.”

In retrospect, did anything earlier in your life prepare you for this life? Or is there no preparing?

I don’t think anything can prepare you. But marrying the right person and building a solid foundation is a great start. When we were dating, I had some health issues that we were concerned about. I was worried about being a burden as his wife. I can laugh now because—wow, we had no idea what was coming!

But that fear led to some incredible conversations about “in sickness and in health,” infertility and so on. We got deep into the hard topics. I am so grateful for those conversations. When he was injured, we already had such a solid foundation—even at 11 weeks of marriage.

Take care of your body as if you were going to live forever, and take care of your soul as if you were going to die tomorrow.

- St. Augustine

Do you feel a lot of pressure, as Thom’s sole caregiver?

I used to feel this a lot and it was overwhelming at times. These days it comes and goes. The feeling has improved with an increase in my own confidence in who I am as his wife, knowing how to care for him and having confidence in our discernment. I also learned how to lean on him again. He is such a rock and an incredible support, which lightens my heart and my load.

How do you try to be gentle and forgiving with yourself?

I have a type-A personality, so I’m still working on this. It was helpful to work with a Christian counselor and see how hard and unforgiving I tend to be with myself. I saw where I needed healing in my own life. I’ve learned that when I want to push and strive, I often need to slow down, go gently and be present. And the sacrament of confession always helps.

What has helped you most in terms of accepting this adapted life and feeling hopeful about the future?

Time. Time to move through the stages of grief, time to mature and heal, time to see what can be made new in Christ’s love for us. Early on I was determined that we would not let this accident change us. But it is always more fruitful to cooperate with God’s will. Suffering can be sanctifying, meaningful and is an opportunity for growth. And that makes me very hopeful for the future. I’m proud of the life we have built. And we’re only eight years in!

Does setting big goals help with the hopeful part?

There are exciting things on the horizon. We’re looking to buy our first house to renovate and make it accessible. I’m in the midst of a career pivot and launching a new business. Thom continues to expand his own business. We are dying to buy a dog and get back to Europe.

But our primary goals are finding more ways to live out our marriage vows, to serve our families and the Church and to use our talents and resources for the greater good. We think about that a lot.

What has surprised you about this journey?

Everything! And it continues to.

What have you learned about yourself?

I have a greater awareness of where I need to grow. I’ve learned that I can do really hard things with God’s grace. And how important it is to maintain my sense of humor about all of these difficulties.

I admire your embrace of beauty—in quiet, lovely ways right in your home. Do you see these simple gestures to surround yourself and Thom by beauty in a new light now?

These gestures are so important. They are life-giving. When Thom was first home from the hospital, we were in a new apartment that was nearly empty. It had a hospital bed and a Hoyer lift, which I initially used to help transfer him. There were medical supplies everywhere. It was a harsh new reality for sure. As I continued to work on our little home, we both improved—our mood, our outlook, we began to heal. They are small things, but they matter so much.

What is the most helpful thing people have done to support you?

Initially, it was the thousands of cards and prayers from around the world. Plus a fundraiser to help us get on our feet again. It was a powerful experience of the body of Christ. Since then, our friends continue to help in so many practical ways: dropping off a meal if we’re recovering from a setback, helping me move heavy things, having fun and celebrating every milestone with us.

What is not helpful?

The most painful comments: “you are a saint”, “you are such an inspiration”, “you really have your hands full.” They are heartbreaking. These compliments are always a put-down.

Who would not want to be married to the greatest man ever? I would also add, seeing how the disabled are treated in our culture. When Thom is treated differently than me because he’s in a wheelchair, it’s devastating. I want to shout out all his achievements and qualities, but none of that matters because the point is: He is a human being with dignity and worth, just like every single human being.

What has this tragedy opened up to you? Are certain avenues open that weren’t before?

Perhaps the opposite. In many ways it has streamlined everything: my time, my focus, my desires. It has shed light on what truly matters in my life.

But also, I think where we are today is largely due to this event in our life. I will never know what would have been, so I credit all I have to what has happened and where we have been—not in spite of it.

Has the grief been matched by grace?

We have had both in abundance. But the grace God bestows cannot blunt the pain of grief. Both are experienced—it’s what it means to be human. We’ve been living inside a miracle for eight years, and that has not spared us from suffering and pain. This is still really hard.

One day we will see more clearly just how much grace was bestowed—when we’re on the other side of this life.

Are you more compassionate now?

I think I have more empathy for others and what they are going through. I don’t breeze through my life in the same way as before. So much of one’s suffering happens alone, away from the world. We can never know what someone else is going through. I’ve learned how important it is to tread lightly and go easy on others.

I also have a greater appreciation for how fragile life is. For how long healing takes. For us, the temptation can be to overly focus on our own difficulties. We strive instead to see the suffering of others and reach out.

How did the accident change your family planning? What is the path forward?

More recently we have come to fully realize that the accident means we cannot have biological children. In vitro fertilization is commonly used by men with a spinal cord injury. As faithful Catholics, we are ethically opposed to this means. Our situation is something we are still processing and continue to pray about.

It’s important to remember that not all couples are able to be parents and it’s not the only way a marriage is fruitful. So far our fatherhood and motherhood have been what Alice von Hildebrand [and JPII!] calls “spiritual.” So far this has been our path.

But patience and trust have been essential in living with this reality and staying the course. I know God will continue to lead us.

- Follow Natalie and learn about her new business at @nataliezpeters.

‘Tomorrow is a new day’

MOVING FORWARD from his spinal-cord injury at age 27 has required spiritual and mental discipline. Thom Peters does not define his life as before and after or use the phrase “a new normal.”

“Life, in my experience, is extraordinarily dynamic,” he said, “and part of what has helped me through the past eight years has been to not settle for a ‘new normal’ but instead strive for constant— though it’s normally gradual—improvement.”

Managing his disability can feel consuming. It’s “more than a part-time job,” he said, robbing him of most of his hobbies and, in their place, requiring years of grueling physical therapy.

Talking about his injury can also be a burden. “Some people are genuinely clueless, or worst of all, presume to know what I’ve been through and how I feel,” he said. Having a proper outlook is paramount. “The most helpful mindset change has been to focus more on the good things I have than the good things I have lost,” Thom said. “That inverted—or actually, properly ordered—perspective has been a life saver.”

It’s hard for Thom to imagine how people without a spiritual foundation respond to a serious injury or health crisis. “Faith is indispensable,” he said. “Having a perspective that stretches beyond this life and that sees this life as a beautiful means to a fulfilling end is key.”

Even with that solid foundation, the journey since his accident has been full of surprises. “Friends I thought were constant dropped away. People who never met me are still praying for me by name daily. I have recovered in ways I thought impossible. I have not recovered in ways I expected to.”

Things Thom once took for granted have been lifted into sharp relief. “My body is an incredible gift, no matter what its abilities. I remember vividly on one of my first rides outside the rehabilitation hospital after my accident looking through the van windows and seeing people simply walking to their destinations. Walking! Without even giving it a second thought! I actually thought to myself: ‘What they can do—these are gods!’

“I took for granted the insane abundance of God’s gift of our bodies before my accident. Our culture spends so much time nit-picking and abusing our bodies. Don’t. You’re so blessed that God chose to create and embody you. Be grateful!”

SERVING OTHERS The wisdom of theology of the body has anchored Thom. “We are created for others,” he said. “Of the many things I’m grateful for, it’s that through my body I can still serve others and be present to them, even if that just means listening to them.”

Loving as God loves is never easy. “What’s new since my accident is the challenge of transcending my own limitations and self-focus and being consumed with love of others. Granted, I was distracted by my own desires before my accident, but now my injury adds an additional set of demands and distractions each day.”

Continuing to mature in his understanding of masculinity helps inform Thom’s thinking. “Masculinity is not reducible to ‘complete’ physical abilities,” he said. “It feels good to serve my wife in every and any way. The ways I cannot serve her as before are a source of sadness. But I refuse to accept these limitations as a permanent ‘new normal.’ They are what they are today. Tomorrow is a new day.”

Through it all, Thom has learned a lot about himself. In summary: “When I am weak, I am strong.”

Learning to accept help has not come naturally. “I was extremely independent before my injury,” he said. “Asking for help was not a habit of mine. At this stage in the journey, I have found that good people enjoy being helpful, especially if you are specific in what you need and act naturally. This puts you and others at ease.”

It also provides a profound lesson. “Seeing the spiritual interplay has been extremely helpful in being at peace with needing more help. Sometimes we’re called to be charitable to others, and sometimes we’re called to receive charity from others. Both are expressions of charity!”

Another spiritual reality is the bittersweet intermingling of sorrow and joy. “What is most sweet is how grief can accompany grace, and vice versa. I can be happy to be able to witness or participate in many things—baptisms, weddings—but unable to participate in quite the same way as I would without my injury.”

That experience has opened his eyes. “To suffer is to notice suffering in others and also to realize how much suffering is hidden,” Thom said. “Some of my suffering is highly visible, which gives me an access point in conversation or when trying to console someone.”