I woke up and it was the brightest room I ever saw, everything was white. Nope this was not heaven, heaven doesn't have needles in your face or sponges dabbing your open stomach. I had to stay awake for the three hours of stitching my face, because I had a bad concussion. I kept asking the same questions over and over. They told me that Joey was okay, he only needed ten stitches in his face, and I had over two hundred. My pelvis has multiple fractures along with my tailbone and nose. I was in wonderful shape considering all that had transpired. I refused at this point to see Joey. I asked for them to send my mom and daddy home so they don’t have to see me like this. My insides felt like they were falling out. The chaplain finally calmed me down and said that my insides were going to stay where they were at and that mom and daddy had seen me already. I just don’t remember and mom didn't’t freak out. She did have an asthma attack on the phone when he had called her, but she was fine. When my face was finally sewn together and morphine was taking some of the pain away I was ready to face my parents. My brother pushed passed my parents, and my mom was crying. For the first time since the accident I was crying too. I was in pain and I was scared and my face must have looked ugly. My brother told me that I was beautiful and my face just had some added character now. My mom and dad stayed by my side and fed me ice chips all night.

April 8, 2006 my husband and I were married and anxious to spend the rest of our lives together. I don’t know when or how it happened but within a few short months God was thrown out of our lives. Our five year relationship and short lived marriage was out the door, and we were living in separate homes. The anger and hatred in our hearts towards each other and the hideous lifestyles we both took on was not working. In the years prior we were so happy in Christ and so in love with each other, but we both went our own way and got rid of Jesus.

He tried to get me out, but I was stuck inside the vehicle. I remember him saying my name over and over and saying he was so sorry. He sounded half hysterical. I thought that I was paralyzed. I couldn't’t feel my legs. My first words between my constant groaning were, “how could you do this to me?” I don’t know who these words were directed to, God or Joey, but I still feel bad for those words. I remember someone covering me with blankets, I couldn't’t stop shaking. There were sirens and so many bright lights. Someone held my bloody hand and never let go until I was in the ambulance. My mouth was full of blood, gravel, glass and who knows what else as they insisted on asking me so many questions. I asked for my daddy who lives right down the road. I didn't’t know my birthday, but I did know Joey’s birthday was November 19, in two days. I was going to be an aunt in May, and I really wanted to see that baby. I don’t care if I am paralyzed I really do not want to die right now. Jesus please forgive me, I need another chance. Then finally after twenty minutes they pulled me out of the car. I screamed a bloody scream. I have never felt that kind of pain. They were cutting my clothes off and I was trying to hold my hips together they felt like they were falling off my body. I was being loaded into a helicopter and it was cold, bumpy and painful and no one was holding my hand. I couldn't’t remember if Joey was okay. My nose was laying flat on my torn face and they kept holding an oxygen mask over it. I can’t die. I want my mommy and daddy. I was in real pain. I dimly recall arriving at the hospital, getting x-rays, an MIR, and then blacking out.

In the few months that we were separated I not only hated life and resented God, but I was also destroying myself. Ask me how I was doing and I would have told you that I wished this life was over. I was so lonely and tired. I didn't care. I didn't care about anything. Joey and I could not be in the same room together alone for more than five minutes without fighting. As his birthday, November 19, approached I missed him and wanted him to know that I still cared. I went to meet him with a sappy card and lousy birthday present. As I approached the house that we shared for such a short time, I was full of mixed emotions. I pulled in the driveway next to an unfamiliar car, a Camero, my dream car. As I stood on “our” sidewalk, birthday bag in hand, I started to tear up as my husband carried his laundry basket into “my” John Deere kitchen. I should be here, was all I could think. We sat uncomfortably on the coach not really talking. I hadn't been in the house in about two months and I was ready to run. I was good at that, running away from unpleasant things. So I finally asked Joey about the Camero and he said it was a friend’s that he was borrowing. Actually he had bought it about an hour earlier, but didn't’t want me to know. He asked if I wanted a ride and I didn't’t know if I should say yes or not, but neither of us were talking and I knew I would regret it if I didn't.

I left my purse and cell phone on the kitchen table, two things that go everywhere with me, an excuse to come back. I always wore a seatbelt, but not that night. It happened so fast. The crash happened in about five minutes. We were sliding and flying in the air. I could sense trees, glass, and the sound of metal scraping on gravel surrounding me. My face hurt badly and my stomach was on fire. We cut two trees in half and flipped the car on its roof as we slid down the road. I was ejected waist up out of the passenger window, my legs pinned inside the vehicle. My face broke my window and my stomach was peeling apart on the road. I was in a daze. My husband had to climb out of my window to see me lying in my very own pool of blood.

Joey would stay with me late into the night and we would talk and cry together. Neither of us could seem to quit apologizing and telling each other how much in love we were. There was no running away from problems anymore. About a week after the accident, with my husband by my side, I took my first steps. It felt good to wear my wedding band again. My husband would help me get showered and he would take me on “walks” in my wheelchair. He even ate the hospital’s idea of Thanksgiving dinner with me. I have never felt so lucky or blessed.

It’s been over three months since the accident. I go to therapy two or three times a week and am learning to walk with a cane. That cane will be my friend for the next year or so. All of my doctors say what a miracle this was. Some days are very hard and painful. It will take eighteen months for all of my fractures to heal, but we are here with God carrying us along. I can not get enough of my life now with Jesus beside me. Even when we give up on ourselves, each other, and our lives God never throws us away. He was there all along. I know that I don’t have to tell you, but each day does bring us new problems and struggles. Joey and I still argue plenty, but we have a reason to live, love and forgive. This accident so far has been the hardest dilemma in my life, but it has been the greatest experience in our lives.

Thank you to my church family, Ephrata Mennonite Church, and the countless other churches who prayed for me every day. Thank you to all of my friends and all the visits to the hospital. Thank you to my husband for showing me what real love is and to God for my gift of second life. I do want to go to heaven, but I have so much to do down here yet. Psalm 91

The next two days were a painful blur, but Pastor Jack and his dimple that I was quite obsessed with, was there as well as Mike Bob and all the presents he got me. My Joey came in to see me on his birthday. I wished him a happy birthday and fell asleep. My mom always seemed to be holding my hand. My brother or my husband would stay with me late into the nights. I spent four days in the trauma unit and a week in the rehab unit.

Crystal Roman