Finished? Or Not?
God has a plan for
every single one of His children. Sometimes we try to change His plan.
Sometimes other people or forces try to change His plan. At the end of the day,
God’s plan still prevails.
On July 4, 2003
satan tried to finish me off. It was the end of my fifth year at Kids Camp in
Southern Missouri. The week was filled with new and old friends, late nights,
early mornings, and incredible times of worship. My bags were packed, the dorm
was clean, and my church’s pile of luggage was ready to be loaded onto the
trailer. Of course leaving camp was sad, as it always is, but I was very
excited to get home to celebrate the Fourth of July with my family. I piled
into the van with the rest of my group and claimed my seat. Once everyone was
settled, we began our long journey home. When we got to Jefferson City, we
stopped at McDonald’s, like we did every year. I still remember what I ordered
that day: a sausage McGriddle, a hash brown, and a Coke to ward off the sleep
that was sure to come during the ride home. After our stomachs were satisfied,
we climbed back into the van. This time I sat in a different seat, all the way
in the back row on the left side. Remember, I said I ordered a coke at
McDonald’s to ward off sleep? Well, that did not work. My 11-year-old body,
that desperately needed sleep, won the fight.
Not long after I
fell asleep, my life was literally turned upside down. Something caused the
right rear tire of the van to blow out, which in turn caused the trailer we
were pulling to fishtail. I have been told that the driver tried to gain
control, but was unable to. At this
point, I think I finally woke up. I vaguely remember being jostled around and
asking what was going on. I never heard the answer because the van was rolling
and I was knocked out. Later, I learned that during the time the van was
rolling, my head and upper body went through the window, which was what caused
me to black out. The next thing I remember is sitting in the median of the
highway with a kind woman, who stopped to help us, supporting me. I complained
that my arm hurt and she said that it was probably broken. The police
questioned me, asking me what my name was, where I lived, where I was going,
who my parents were, what my phone number was, and finally if I was wearing my
seatbelt. After what seemed like a long time, an ambulance arrived to take one
of the other girls and me to the hospital. As I walked to the ambulance
cradling my arm, I looked back at the lady who had held me. She had a large
amount of blood on her shirt, which frightened me a little bit. At the
hospital, the gash in my head was stapled up and my arm was set in an ugly
plaster cast. Then my journey home began again.
In
the days that followed, I found out the rest of the story. In the end, the van
rolled a total of three-and-a-half times before coming to a stop. One person
was thrown from the van and ended up being air lifted, along with the driver,
to Columbia. Both of them had multiple broken bones, not to mention the cuts
and bruises they both acquired. Everyone else was treated at local hospitals
for cuts and bruises. I toted around my plaster cast that felt like it weighed
five pounds and became angry with God. I was angry that I could not do the
things that I normally did, such as get dressed without help, assist my mom
with cooking dinner, and most of all swim in my backyard pool. The bigger
source of my anger came from something else though, the fact that my two
friends sitting next to me only had a few minor cuts and bruises, while I had a
gash in my head and a broken arm. I quickly came to realize that my anger was
petty. I shouldn’t have been angry; God saved my life when He very well could
have said that my time was up. My anger though, was replaced with fear. A long
time passed before I could even think about setting foot on a 15-passenger van
again and an even longer time before I was able to get on one, let alone one
pulling a trailer. Getting over my fear was a lot harder than getting over my
anger. It took a lot of prayer from a lot of people, as well as some gentle
coaxing from a few trusted people in my life to get me back on a 15-passenger
van. I started out with baby steps: first, riding in a 15-passenger van and
getting comfortable with that. Then, riding in a 15-passenger van pulling a trailer. Once I finally conquered my fear, I realized
it was petty too; God has had His hand upon me everyday since that accident.
Yes,
satan tried to finish me off 10 years ago, but he did not succeed. He could not
succeed. God had another plan in mind. I had not finished His work here on
earth yet. I did not realize it then, but God used that day, that accident, to
make me realize how much I need to value this life and that I was not put here
by accident. I was put here on this earth, in this lifetime, for a purpose.
Today, I am still not 100 percent sure what that purpose is, but I am working
toward finishing the work that He has called me to do. How, you ask? Well, that
is a good question. I share Jesus any chance that I get. When I am out with my
friends, at the store, anywhere and everywhere. I even continue to let my light
shine at one of the hardest places, my college campus. I mean come on, how many
spirit filled, Assemblies of God students do you know who go to a Catholic
school? My guess, probably not many. I also spend my time each week as a
sponsor for my church’s youth group and volunteer monthly as a worker in the
nursery. I just love being able to share my experiences with the youth and to
show Christ’s love to the little ones in the nursery. Where will God call me to
do His work next? I do not know yet. I will be here patiently seeking Him,
prepared to go wherever He sends me to finish the work He has started within
me.
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