It’s been a few months, I have not written a word. Now I’m back! I feel better, I feel stronger. Yesterday in my religions class the teacher was discussing miracles as a proof that god exists. I was too embarrassed to raise my hand, another person raised their hand and the teacher yelled my name a few of my friends looked at me and said in astonishment “ Your expeiernce was a miracle!”
Strange, that I have not viewed this as a miracle. Does is make me a bad person? Did I just think of it as luck? Because this teacher made me realize yes I did have a miracle. My bones could have cut off the nerves in my spine, and killed me or paralyzed me. If I hadn’t been wearing my seat belt, I would have gone through the dashboard. Yet none of those things happened.
I am walking, talking, living! And this is a miracle, someone up there was looking down at me…and I feel lucky, blessed because I could have lost my life. Because others in this situation have lost their life. So what makes me so special that I get to keep my life?
It is here in this amazing outlet that I would like to recall the experience.
The roads were blurry with fog and drakness. The car swerved, the driver tried to gain control, but the vehicle was at such a fast pace, and the two passengers would inevitably hit the rock.
Flying into the air, the car flips one, two, times in the air, in the abysmal darkness. At the second flip the passenger feels her back crack. At first—no pain, just straight, pure fear.
Finally the car lands on the hood. The girls are suspended by their seatbelts. For a few moments the passenger blinks her eyes, recongnition of the event starting to cloud her mind. It would take months, years maybe before she understood what this event would do to her, what it would mean in her life.
They click the seat belts off and fall to floor of the car. All the contents of the car are sprayed around. Lighters, lipsticks, bags, keys, tissues.
The passenger starts to feel pain. She screams. The driver is frantic calls 911. The driver is tryign to kick open windows, none of them budging.
In a frantic hysteria, the broken passenger, thinks the car will blow up. Infact she is sure of it. The pain going through her is intense, in the midst of it she checks her car door, and thankfully it is open!
The driver gets out, somehow the passenger scarmbles out aswell. This is pain that few could have handled, she is told later.
The cold grass is her only relief…the pain is too much, when will it stop? Maybe she will die, actually she is sure she will die. She longs for it.
Two neighbors come out, and elderly gentelman and a young girl. The old man is kind, he kneels down, the passenger thinks, everything is a blur to her. The old man holds her hand. Her face is down, eyes closed, all she hears is voices. Voices all around.
“ Did you call 911?”
“Are you okay, what happened to her?”
“ Yes I’m Okay, her back oh god her back.”
The old man is whispering “ It’s gonna be okay honey, its gonna be okay.” But will it be okay? Will it really be okay? Or will this dissmal field be her last vision of earth.
Finally the ambulances arrive. Strange faces. A kind woman is helping her, men are lifting her, the are tearing her jacket. The wounded girl looks up at a boys face…does she know this face? He is just starring at her. She tries to say “ Tell him to stop looking at me!” But the pain is too much, and her breath to heavy…and why should she be mad at the boy starring? She has worst things to worry about now.
The wounded girl, in the ambulance, hurrying her away. The drugs take away the pain. She slips into a different kinds of darkness, a peaceful one.
The next time she awakes, the surgery room awaits, a kind doctor smiles, “ It’s gonna be okay”
Thousands of accidents happen everyday. People die, I wondered what the hell makes me so special that I get to live? This is the third time in my life that I have escaped death’s grip.
A realization is dawning on me. That maybe I have to make something more of this life. And not because I think I am particularly special….but because life is special, and all our lives are worth living.
There are times when I use to worry worry, depressed, sad, mad and I luagh at those fears that created such ghastly times.
In a moment, a car ride, everything can change….and it makes me remember that life is about loving, and living, and that my friends is much more important than anything else.
I have a scar down my back now, and I was going to get rid of it.
But I have decided to keep it. Because our scars remind us of strenght, courage. That when times get tough we have the ability to survive. This life is worth the pain we sometimes face, because through it we rebuild into something much stronger.