I remember where I was on August 13, 2013, and I thank God everyday that I'm alive to recount the memory.
Fishtailing on the interstate and crashing into a concrete wall at 60MPH, head-on, without a seatbelt, in the middle of rush hour, was not on my to-do list for that Tuesday afternoon.
I never thought that leaving work and heading to my mother's home, not even 10 miles from my own, would end with me being unconscious on the side of the highway, causing a traffic block for miles.
When you're faced with your very human limitations in the face of circumstance, sometimes your pride is the price you pay for survival . . . and there was a hefty price to be paid.
Everything was broken — the least of which being my sense of normalcy.
My wrist shattered, my foot shattered, my arm shattered, my collarbone shattered, my scapula broke, my nose broke, several of my vertebrae were broken and my eye was concussed.
I was a mess. The doctor later told me that they feared my left arm would have to be amputated due to the way my bone broke in half. My arm bone broke in half.
Jesus. Thank God it didn't come to that.
I don't remember much before blacking out on impact, except curling up in a ball and saying "Lord, cover me" aloud. I vaguely recall waking up in the trauma room and hearing my aunt audibly praying for me and my mother wiping my tears.
Recovery was an ordeal I never envisioned I'd become subject to. I was unable to feed myself, bathe myself, clothe myself, move myself, and I had to learn to do each all over again during a two-month stint in rehab. . . but, I made it.
The job I excel at didn't spare my life; the degrees I earned didn't distinguish between life or death; and my familial pedigree certainly didn't determine my fate.
Only that split second of calling out the name of Jesus before impact and unconsciousness gave me another chance to walk this walk.
I'm so glad I made it. I thank God I made it . . . and I'm grateful. I'm so grateful. 🙂