March 6th, 2022- around 6pm.
I sat on a highway barricade in Kansas City.
The sky was growing dark. The concrete was cold and soaking wet (and so was I). Sleet came down, cars rushed by, I shivered, and overall, I think I was just in shock. My mind instantly went into problem solving mode, but as I sorted through the options of what to do next, but the only reasonable solution seemed to be to wait.
Minutes before this, it was just a normal Sunday. A normal Sunday, with a drive back to school from my best friend’s apartment. It was time in the car to pray for direction over life after college, and tell the Lord I trusted His will, wherever I went. And the weather was slightly stormy, and sleet was lightly coming down, but that was not going to stop my mission to drive back to school.
Then a turn onto the highway turned into my first incident with ice- and on a highway. My wheels found the ice, and my car slid across all four (thankfully empty) lanes, stopping on the side of the highway. I was untouched, and safe (or so I thought), but facing traffic. I picked up my phone to make a call, intending to let my best friend know I was coming back. Then another car slid on the exact same patch of ice as I did, moments before. There was hardly time for me to think, “Alright, Lord…” with acceptance of what was about to happen, before they slammed right into me. There was a harsh bang sound. Airbags went off. My phone flew into the backseat. Something hit my leg. It all happened both so quickly yet so slowly.
It seems that I remember most every detail of this, even a year later (and that is incredible to me, that the Lord made our minds in such a way to pick up on so many details through such events). I remember scrambling over to the passenger side, just in case another car hit me. I remember searching for my phone to call Brianna again (yes, to finish that phone call with her; never mind calling the police to come rescue me at that moment). I remember the long wait for the police to pick up the phone when I did finally call them. I remember the kind stranger who urgently ran across the icy highway to offer to help me. I remember the steady sound of my dear friend Brittany’s voice on the other end of the phone when she called to calm me. I remember my shoes soaking through, as I stepped into a nice puddle. I remember receiving one of the sweetest hugs I have ever been given from Tim and Brianna when they picked me up from the police station. I remember really thinking another car was going to crash into me, while I was on the highway, waiting for someone to come for me. I remember Brianna telling me I might experience a variety of emotions, because I had just been through a traumatic event. I remember the phone calls that came afterward, and cherishing every sound as I spoke to my loved ones.
I remember being completely humbled in the aftermath, as I looked back and saw the Lord’s protection and provision intertwined in every detail of this story. I wondered about it for a long time (I still do), and in the following week especially, as many emotions hit me from the car accident. It was an amazement to me that my car could be such a wreck, yet I made it out with a cute little purple bruise on my leg, and some whiplash. Yet, I did; and the Lord must surely have me here for a good purpose, because I am still here.
One year later. March 6th, 2023. I sit in a little house near Kansas City, here to visit Tim and Brianna, and thankfully there were no car accidents today (though I would not trade what the last one taught me, I also would not be thrilled to do that again).
I also have the shoes that stepped into that cold puddle exactly one year ago; they are torn and wrecked, but also hold a special kind of memorial stone. They remind me of that one time I was sitting on a barrier on a highway in Kansas City; and they reminded me of the God who was so incredibly gracious to me there.
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