This is Why I Believe in Miracles
I had just finished my audition for Drum Major Tryouts, feeling quite relieved. I had some spare time left before my mother would be there to pick me up. I remember lying down on the hard concrete, knees bent, watching the few clouds drift sinuously in the sky. Maybe I had gone momentarily deaf because the next thing I knew, a two ton truck was running over my body; crushing me. I didn’t even hear it coming. I no longer knew where I was, who I was, if I was sitting or standing. All I remember is screaming something awful and that this was how I was going to die—pinned beneath this F150.
A woman in the parking lot heard me screaming, and she came running to my aid. She told me to calm down and not to move. She asked me if I could wiggle my fingers and toes and I did. I wasn’t paralyzed.
The ambulance was already there when my mother came up to the school. The look on her face is something I’ll never forget. She was running towards me, crying, but the police officers held her back. I wanted to run to her…I wanted to let her know that I was going to be okay.
I spent twenty-three days in the hospital. I had a lot of visitors, which was a bit overwhelming. I just laid in my little hospital bed crying because I couldn’t get up to pee, and the RN’s wouldn’t stop coming in my room in the middle of the night to check on me.
I had four surgeries, (two major, and two minor). The extent of my physical injuries was a cracked pelvis and a hematoma in my right thigh. No extensive nerve damage or broken bones or damaged organs. This is why I believe in miracles. It’s completely miraculous that the truck missed my head, my arms, chest, back, and stomach. If the truck did run over the rest of my body, I was none the wiser. It was only God that was there with me that hapless day, only God that protected me.
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