Preface: I did not want to write this blog. No seriously. Its been on my mind for a while now and that little voice (God) has been nagging me about it but I’ve been avoiding it. I’m even crying right now and I haven’t even written it yet but I buried this so deeply and never like talking about it that bring it to surface is causing a malfunction. Bend or break…we must sumbit to His will. Things must change. We must change. Somebody needs to hear this story, and I can’t go on ignoring God and ignoring my purpose. I can’t clearly define what my purpose is but it has to do with these words. Not just this story but all of them. My words touch people, and that’s not ego, or anything greater than simple truth. We cannot ignore our callings and our purpose. The more we ignore them the stronger they call; its like that drum in Jumanji lol. Ok…without further delay…my story.
I don’t remember me before February 17, 2003. I know that I existed of course, and I know what my life was like but I can’t remember me. What I was like, the kind of person I was to other people…It was a simple enough day-President’s day. My friend at the time, T, and I wanted to go to the thrift store to find vintage T-shirts because it was half off day. I’d just left the gym. I had on Abercrombie sweats, and hair was just thrown back…it was a simple enough kind of day. So T, comes to pick me up in her blue Ford Expedition…she has her brother, P, her sister, L, and for whatever reason I was bring both of my sisters as well. So there we all, all piled into the Ford heading down I-20, I’m sitting in back with the girls, right behind the driver’s seat. We’re listening to Michael Jackson’s Thriller album and the song “Beat It” had just come on. We’re jamming singing along about to exit the highway when the lane that we’re in is ending, and there’s a truck beside us that won’t let us over. T speeds up but there’s a car broken down in the lane up ahead where it ends so she floors it to beat this truck. The truck isn’t letting up…she takes a chance and merges and I screamed, “T, no!” We flip…countless times, across Interstate-20 actually we went from the far right lane and flipped across all of them ending in the left shoulder.
Somewhere along all that flipping, I was thrown from the vehicle. I only know this because people who saw the accident happen stopped and told me so. I don’t remember it. What I do remember is waking up, running back to the car and pulling out her brother through the window. Breaking the glass to get her sister, my sisters…and my sisters white jacket being blood-soaked. I was yelling at her asking if she was ok asking if anything hurt, and she said she was fine, I told her to call 911…the doors wouldn’t open, the roof had caved in completely and the back seat was snapped. People on the other side of the interstate had pulled over to see if we were ok, and I remember a lady letting me use her cell phone to call my parents. I never told her thank you…I mean I did but…I never told her thank you enough. I want to call her right now and tell her thank you *smirk*…anyway I couldn’t find my stepdad, I didn’t want my mom because I knew she would freak out. I tried his cell and told him that we’d been in an accident on I-20 and to come down because the car was totalled. He said ok. (He later told me he had NO IDEA from that phone call that things were as bad as they were…) As I was handing the phone back to the lady I remember her saying, “Baby hold your head up its ok,” but I couldn’t. I couldn’t lift my head off my shoulder. I couldn’t lift my shoulder at all. It didn’t hurt, but it just didn’t work. The ambulance arrived before our parents did. They took me, fighting and screaming because I did not want to leave my sisters. They just kept telling me they were alright but-I didn’t want to leave them. Kelly was only 1, and Melissa was 6, they were babies. I cried for the first time when they strapped me down in the ambulence. They tried to stick tubes up my nose and I fought them, wouldn’t let them kept telling them I was fine I wouldn’t let them leave until my parents arrived. I don’t think they listened because the next thing I remember is waking up at the hospital.
They had given me oxygen and I don’t know if I passed out, or they gave me something else or what but…when I woke up I was laying in the hospital bed, doctors were cutting my clothes off me and I was whining about them cutting my favorite sweats (yall know Abercrombie isn’t exactly inexpensive-clearly this mattered to me, then). The doctor told me that I had to be still, and to stop fighting them. He said I had complained of a neck injury and so I could not get up for any reason. I asked about everybody else, asked why I was there alone, he said because of the nature of my injuries and assured me that everyone was ok and on their way. I went in and out of x-ray rooms, fought again when they tried to give me a catheter. The nurse gave me tough love…eventually though, I won the battle, no tubes in me. My family arrived finally. I saw my sisters, my mom, she was in hysterics, but trying to be calm as I lay there on a stiff board, unable to move. I remeber she asked me if I could move my toes lol…I said yes. I always laugh when I see that part in Kill Bill…I told the story best I could to police, parents, more police, etc…(even though I’m pretty sure the accident was T’s fault the truck driver got in trouble, not her) Then the police officer asked me if I had been wearing a seat belt. I said no. There weren’t enough for all of us, and it was my sister or me. She needed it more. I later found out that because of how the car was, had I had on a seatbelt the likelihood of my survival would have been minimal. My being thrown from the vehicle saved my life. The officer also told me that according to witnesses when I was thrown, I was thrown into the concrete median, which was more that likely the reason I was hurt.
Before I checked out of the hospital that night I saw every member of my mom’s family (who lives in Atlanta) and my biological father. They were all crying and I was assuring them that I was fine. My uncle was the biggest wreck and insisted that I came to his house instead of home after I left. I’m still not entirely sure why my mom agreed to that but, thats what happened. In the wee hours of the morning I was drugged up with morphine, given a 3-months supply of Vicodin to be taken 3 times a day for pain, was outfitted in a neck brace and shoulder sling, and diagnosed with 4 broken neck vertebrae and one fractured/bruised left clavical. Needless to say it was a rough time for me. I remember when I finally made it home my friends wanted to come see me and I wouldn’t let them. I sent a mass email telling them there’d be an accident but I was ok. I had to all but drop out of college taking Ws in classes because I couldn’t sit in the desks, or get around very easily. My mom having to drive me and pick me up every day. Not to mention I was heavily medicated which made it hard to focus. I remember my friend KSH came over and helped me brush my hair back into a ponytail because I had gashes and cuts and couldn’t lift my arms to do it myself. She took me to Target…just to get out of the house, I remember a woman stopped me and told me that I would come out of it better and I would have a testimony, I told her I would go to church and tell it once I did. It was hard to walk for very long and literally all I wanted to do was cry, all the time. Very few people came around, I remember KSH and her sister, did, JRB did…NWH did…thats it. K took me to church one day, (I couldn’t drive, obviously) and I remember the choir sang the song “Stand” which still makes me tear up…I literally just sat there and cried, unable to hide my face or even cover it due to my injuries, and I remember hearing God speak to me and tell me that this was only the beginning of my story. That I was meant to do great things and that I would be alright-better than alright. That I would be a blessing to others.
After that I was semi-instoppable. I transferred schools, finally applied to UT and got in. I moved to New Hampshire for 3 months and worked at a camp, so unlike me, but I learned so much. I stopped taking things and people for granted. More importantly, my faith grew tremendously. So when I tell you I don’t know who I was before that time…I don’t. When I tell you that God has big things for my life I’m only reiterating things I’ve been told. My story was written before I breathed my first breath. When I tell you that I know how good He is, I’m not playing. Yall I was in a car, hit by an 18-wheeler, flipped across an interstate, THROWN, fall broken by a concrete median, broke my neck in 4 places, broke my collar bone…but yet I can tell you this story?! If that’s not a miracle then I don’t know what is. Please don’t take your life for granted. We all have purposes, and God is and will be there every step of the way. I’m sorry I can’t help but to tell you how good God is.
I didn’t want to write this story…and I know it was long…I know some of yall get tired of me “preaching” but when the Lord steps into your life and turns it around, you want to shout it everyday, “Thankya!” May this be a blessing to somebody, and may them in turn be a blessing to someone else.