It was December 4, 1986 that I was involved in a motorcycle accident which resulted in me losing my lower left leg. At the time I was not walking with God and I truly believed that God did not interfere with the everyday lives of us humans. My concern at the time was then my wife who was in her seventh month of pregnancy with our first child. I did not want her to have to take care of a baby and me, so I made it an effort to get up, get walking again so I could be there for her and the baby. So I did just that, got up and got walking.
The story could have ended there, but it didn't. The story lingered on in silence until a time that I could truly understand what happened that night. My mother tried to give me insight into how God had performed a miracle that night, that He had other plans for me, but I did not listen. It took many years and attending a retreat for the whole story to be revealed, so I reveal to you the whole story:
The first two people that came to my side were an off duty paramedic and an off duty nurse. The nurse with her comforting voice, leaned down telling me everything was going to be alright. What stuck out was the cross that dangled from her neck directly above me. The first sign God sent "I am here".
My accident happened an equal distance to two major hospitals, St. Marys and University of Arizona Medical Center. I lay there listening to two sets of paramedics arguing which hospital I was going to go to. For some reason I blurted out "UAMC!" One of the paramedics said "You heard him, it's UAMC". The second sign God speaking through me. He knew where I needed to go.
When I arrived at UAMC, the on-duty trama doctor was not there, but in another part of the building. While he was being paged another trama doctor, who had just stopped by to pick up some files, was present and took a look at me. Instead of going home, he prepped for surgery. I was told that my leg was pretty bad, but he was going to try and save the knee. You see, my lower left left was gone, torn to shreds; no bone, muscle tissue torn away, it was a mess. The first trama doctor would have just taken a clean cut above the knee and not messed with the other part of the leg. The second trama doctor had a plan, to take what was left of my leg and create a stump so I could keep my knee. What was suppose to take only four hours, turned into seven. In the end, he had created me a stump and saved my knee. That is a big thing for an amputee. The knee is your motion, your flex, your mobility. I could run, ride a bike, walk with almost no problem. This was God's third sign, a doctor who should have gone home, but did not.
The story continues with my rehabilitation, and the relationship I developed with the man who built my prosthetic leg. God was there..........RIGHT there beside me the whole time. Why you ask? Just as my mom knew, God had bigger plans for me. Plans for me to attend Grace Community Church, to give myself to His son, to learn of a small orphanage in Uganda, to travel to that orphanage, to fall in love with the children, to become part of Lahash International and to attend Rockbridge Seminary.
Yeah, the accident was tragic, and maybe God could have prevented it, but would I be where I am today? God worked through the accident, a man made accident, to do good; to bring me where I am today. Some people say God doesn't work miracles anymore.......................
Chappy
