October 12, 1993

Seventeen years ago at this time, my life hung in the balance. Given only a 50-50 chance of survival, after surgery I was listed in critical condition. My car accident rocked the world of those closest to me. I spent six weeks in the hospital recovering. Dad left his desk at work that rainy Tuesday morning when the call came in and didn't look back until he knew I would live, not so much as even a phone call back to his co-workers. Nearly every waking moment he and Mom spent as close to my hospital bed as possible. Early on, most of those agonizing hours were spent with family and friends in the Trauma Unit Waiting Room, praying, talking, sometimes even crying. One dozen long-stemmed red roses sat beside my photograph on the window sill.

This year on October 12, Mom sent me 12 red roses to remember that first dozen roses and rejoice. Praise God, I am healed completely!

Now, all these years later, Dad verbalized to Mom that he didn't even realize I ever had a car accident.