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It was May 11, 2002. I was excited about finals being over, and I was ready to head home. The night before, I had stayed up very late cramming for an Educational Psychology exam. After my exam at 8:00 that morning, I bounded back over to my dorm room to start packing my stuff up in my car. It was SO hot that day. My parents were out of town, and the plan was for me to drive home, get my younger brother from a friend's house (where he had been staying since my parents were gone), and await my parents' and other brother's return the following Monday. Things didn't quite happen as planned. I hit the road--which happened to be Highway 82 East--I was on my way to freedom from the drudgery of college life. However, after a late night and a tiring packing-the-car session, I was a lot more tired than I realized. About 3/4ths of the way home, I fell asleep at the wheel and hit a telephone pole. It all happened so fast! Several things were going through my mind: How badly am I hurt? I wrecked the car! My parents are out of town and they are going to be so worried! Am I going to still be able to go to Spain?
Bear in mind that Highway 82 is in the middle of nowhere. It's a two-lane, country road with miles and miles of nothing on either side. Not a great place to have an accident. Thankfully, two passers-by saw the accident and called the paramedics (I had a cell phone, but I wasn't really in a position to be able to use it.) I was whisked away to the emergency room, and after several tests and x-rays, it was determined that I had a fractured pelvis and a broken collarbone. With the trip two-and-a-half weeks away, it seemed VERY unlikely that I'd be able to go! "Unless you want to be wheeled around Spain with your arm in a sling, you aren't going anywhere," said one of my doctors. I was very disappointed because I had been looking forward to going for so long! I had scholarship money lined up for me to go, and everything was in place. "You can always go next time," people told me.
Before I continue, let me say that I had no idea what the car looked like when they pulled me out. I had a feeling that I had messed the car up pretty badly, but I wasn't sure how badly. Not until I saw the pictures of the wreckage. See for yourself:
     The young man in the above pictures is my little brother, Maurice. He went with a friend from church to get all of my belongings that they could possibly get out of the car.
Apparently, I had hit the telephone pole so hard, that my car literally wrapped around it. The car was a '92 and didn't come equipped with airbags. It was a miracle that I didn't hit my head on the dashboard or the steering wheel. I wasn't knocked unconscious at all. And considering the wreckage, it was a miracle that I came out of it in one piece. I kept hearing from the paramedics that I was "one lucky girl." It's because they rarely see anyone come out of an accident like that alive.
I even accepted that fact that I probably wasn't going to Spain. I began to cancel my arrangements, and I was told that my scholarship would be taken away since I wasn't going to make the trip. I was so disheartened. I went to bed on my back, my arms held out and shoulders pulled back from the brace I had to wear, and let the tears stream down the sides of my face wondering, "Why me?"
I soon had to have an appointment in Birmingham with a pelvic specialist. I still walked with a limp at that time, and my parents were very worried that I would do permanent damage to myself if I continued that way, so they rented a wheelchair, and I was rolled around like an invalid. It was the most depressing feeling. My doctor's name was Dr. Jorge Alonso, and upon arriving for the appointment, I found out that he was indeed from Spain. (a coincidence?) My mom urged me to speak with him in Spanish. I recounted my accident to him in Spanish, and he seemed impressed. After examining further x-rays and observing how I walked, he said, "You know, I think you can still go." I was elated! My parents were very reluctant to let me go after something so serious had just happened; I was still recovering. But I wanted to go! As soon as I got home, I got in contact with the right people to let them know the change in plans. My ticket was still reserved, and my scholarship was still in place. About a week after my appointment with Dr. Alonso, I was standing in line to board the plane to Spain! Incredible, huh?
The only explanation is that the Lord Jesus Christ had his hand on me the enitre time:
1. I got out of that car wreck alive.
2. Not only that, but with minor injuries, considering the seriousness of the accident.
3. Only two-and-a-half weeks after having a broken collarbone and a fractured pelvis, I was on my way to Spain! I had no slings, no braces, no crutches, no medicine--nothing!
I truly thank God for keeping me safe, and not only that, but still allowing me to do what I wanted to do. Though sometimes we don't understand His ways, I know that He has a purpose for my life. He showed me that He wanted to keep me alive for a reason, and that He wanted me to go to Spain, even in the midst of seeming impossiblity.
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