I believe my life story is different from that of a normal girl my age. Although I was born into a family of believers, none of us were prepared for what would happen exactly five years ago when I was 15. My mom, 13-year-old sister and I were let out early from church to drive home because of the poor weather. We were almost home when we approached the left turn a street away from home. The black ice didn’t allow us to stop, and so we slid through it, forcing a truck driving perpendicular to smash into us. The truck driver was going over twice our speed, and T boned us on the driver’s side. Ironically, the truck driver was my biology teacher of three months. Our car was pushed through the intersection and into the opposite ditch, where we all immediately lost consciousness.
I was the first to wake as I began to realize what had happened. We were all safely removed from the car (using the “Jaws of Life” for my mom), and, after my dad had arrived to the scene, were rushed to the hospital. Our injuries were then identified. My mom had been confirmed as being in critical condition. They also said she had universal brain damage, fractures in her ribs, fractures in her pelvis, and other injuries including in her lungs and heart. My sister, Sabrina, was stung with microscopic and pieces of glass from the impact of the window in her cheek and wrist. She would need reconstruction of her cheek due to the depth of the cuts. Finally, I was impacted with a broken tibia. Days later, after complaining about the pain in my butt, the doctors discovered that I had an additional five fractures in my pelvis, and I was placed in the intensive care unit right next door to my mom. Thanks to God alone, my mom’s critical injuries had healed miraculously overnight; this is what the Lord did to give my dad hope, and show him that he could trust God’s plan and power in the situation.
My sister was released the next day, and so she stayed on a cot in my room as my family spent that next week between my mom and my room. I was released at the end of the week, living almost every moment of the next month on our living room couch.
After Christmas, my mom was sent to a nursing home in our hometown where my dad continued to visit her daily. It was a struggle for my sister and I to visit as often; primarily because of my lack of mobility, and also because it was so difficult to see her like that. My mom was slowly entering a coma, and the doctors had shaved most of her head because they needed to cut open the back of it for tubing and pipes, etc.
As mid-February came, she started making improvements; it was an ideal time to move her to a specialized brain injury facility.
For the next year, 13 months, she lived about two hours from home, at the Clearview Brain Injury Center, where she was treated with daily therapy so that her brain could try to rediscover what she already had learned how to do and to re-teach what she couldn’t simply remember.
After my mom graduated from the program, there was still so much that was different. She could talk a little, remember a few names and places, answer some of our questions, feed herself (with one arm), drink thickened liquids, and stand with assistance. We were finally able to have her live at home, as long as my dad was there to care for her.
She lived with us at home from the spring of 2007 to the summer of 2009. After having her at home for so long, it became difficult for my dad to keep the upkeep with the house, care for my sister and me, and be the caregiver for my mom. Some nights, he would wake up to walk her to the bathroom up to five times; most others it was about three times. The option we were presented with was to place her in a home for assisted living, which was a duplex with three residents and a twenty-four-hour caregiver. She would continue with the therapy she had been receiving from home, a five-days per week program that provided speech and physical therapy, and still be able to have visitors, her own room, and do the things she loved. Incredibly, this street of duplexes was only five minutes from our house. This is what the Lord was calling us to do as our next step.
Since the time she has moved to the assisted living home, she has been very discontent. She hates not living at home, and tears usually flow every time I visit. As a college student, I promised my mom to stop to at least say hello every time that I am home. Even though she has changed so much, she is still my mom and I will always love her that way.
I miss who she used to be, the way she spoke, the way she held my sister and I, her beautiful red, curled hair, the ways she smelled, the way she came home after her biweekly stamp club in heels to kiss me on the forehead after I’d pretended to go to sleep and then walk back out to the living room to talk with my dad. I miss the way she danced, her smile, her creativity, soft heart and her stubbornness, the way she looked at my dad, and her theatrical voice and dream to one day be the voice in an animated Disney movie. I miss the way she always encouraged me to do what was right, and her memorization of the book, “Oh, the Places You’ll Go.” I miss her love of books on tape and her dedication to each of her best friends. I miss the way we cuddled, and I miss her frustration with any type of technology. I wish I could have learned her promptness, she always was five minutes early; I wish she could have taught me about love, and how to bake a cake. I wish I could have heard more about her young life and how she fell in love with my dad. I wish she could see where I am today, and could’ve helped me to get here.
I have seen so many other changes over the last five years, but I also believe that I have really grown and seen the Lord shape me as I have learned to trust God’s plan for me. No matter what happens, He is sovereign. God’s plan is for my prosperity, He is going to give me a hope and a future. I do not have to worry; I can be sure that God is using this to further His kingdom.
I can find joy in my story. Things could have been so much worse, yet I am here, blessed, and taken care of. He has brought my family together; we are continuing to grow closer. I am striving to be the big sister and role model that God has called me to be, and I feel like He has given me this story to share and encourage others when they feel like there is no hope. God has given us His son Jesus Christ who has gone through more than we could bear—death at the cross. But He lives AGAIN and wants to bring us the love and protection that we seek.
God has done so much for my family and overwhelmed me with incredible love. As I use today to reflect on where I have come, I hope you will too. Recognize what is important, and chase after God, because He is the only thing worth living for.
