I thought I would start out with a story most people know about me.
I first believed in God, and learned to trust him, when my sister Jenny was in a bad car accident. I was in fifth grade. My parents said that when the ambulance had gotten to the scene she was practically dead, and the paramedics did everything they could to revive her, with low hopes. Her brain was swelling, she had a broken neck, and the left side of her body was paralyzed. She was in a coma. They said if she ever woke up she probably wouldn’t talk or walk again.
One week after her accident I was finally able to, accompanied by my fifth grade teacher, who was close to my family. When I walked into the hospital room for the first time I was scared. There were cords everywhere. They put a gage in her head to monitor the brain swelling. She had something called a halo, which is drilled into the skull to keep the head from moving. There were bruises everywhere, everywhere except her angelic face. My first prayer on my own, the first one I wrote down, was about her. Two weeks after her accident, by God’s grace, she miraculously woke up.
After she woke up she was transferred to Shepherd’s Center in Atlanta, Georgia. She visited with doctors specializing in neck and spinal injuries. In the stillness of my sister’s rehabilitation, I realized I was hating the man who hit her. I felt convicted for hating a child of God, someone He loves, just as much as me. I started to realize that all sin is the same in God’s eyes, all sin separates us from Him. The lying I did as a grade-schooler was just as bad as the pain the drunk driver caused my sister. If I wanted forgiveness from God and from others, I would have to forgive the driver who hit my sister. I had to learn that forgiveness is not the same as condoning someone’s actions. The best thing I can do is hope that the man who hit my sister finds Jesus. Only one year later, my sister, Jenny, was fully healed. Through the power of Jesus.
My Life is God's Story 