Last weekend was the fourth anniversary of the rollover accident which I describe in the 
first chapter of What Good Is God? Appropriately, we spent it with some wonderful friends from the church in Los Alamos, New Mexico, where I spoke on Prayer the day before my Ford Explorer slipped off an icy road and tumbled over and over down an embankment.
February 25, 2007, was the longest day of my life. In all I spent seven hours strapped to a body board as doctors tried to determine whether a fragment of the crushed vertebrae had punctured my carotid artery. “We have a jet standing by to fly you to Denver for emergency surgery,” the doctor told me. “But, truthfully, if the artery is punctured, you won’t make it.”
Seven hours is a long time. I reviewed my life, regrets and nostalgic memories both, contemplated a possible future as a paraplegic, called loved ones to tell them goodbye just in case. As a Christian writer, I knew I should be thinking spiritual thoughts, but I have to admit that my main regret was that I had climbed 51 of the 54 14,000-foot mountains in Colorado. I can’t die yet—I have three more to climb, I kept thinking.
That same summer, after the neck brace came off, I climbed the last three 14ers. Now, four years later, I’m back skiing moguls and enjoying this grand world. I feel very blessed, and will never forget the born-again feeling of getting another chance at life. Not everyone has that chance. I have friends who went through similar accidents and never walked again, and others who have permanent brain injuries; the crosses beside the Colorado roads (and on Colorado mountain trails) bear witness to still others whose lives ended abruptly.
During the recovery months I heard from friends, loved ones, and readers whom I have never met. As I read the kind of heartfelt words that people often don’t express until it’s too late, I felt like Tom Sawyer attending his own funeral. On down days, I sometimes rummage in a box and re-read them.
The overwhelming gift I take away from my accident is a bedrock sense of gratitude for life itself. This afternoon I stopped work and hiked along a ridge with a view of snow-capped mountains, sat on a rock and watched the birds flit from tree to tree, startled a herd of deer grazing on the hillside. Spontaneous praise spilled out. For all its problems, this world is a magnificent place. I rejoice that I am still here to enjoy it.
“Anyone who is among the living has hope—even a live dog is better off than a dead lion!…Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for it is now that God favors what you do.” (Ecclesiastes (9: 4, 7)
From the picture of the squashed and gutted car, you are certainly blessed to roam rims of mountains and to startle a herd of grazing deer. You paint pictures of life with your words. That most often best comes from one who has faced the pictureless darkness of his or her mortality.
My gut jumped when you voiced gratitude over “the born-again feeling of getting another chance at life.” My car has not rolled and tumbled down a cliff, but I have come out from under the knife three times hearing the word “benign.” And so I, too, celebrate things like a new spring, chattering birds, and my old Zach the Cat. I thank God for breathing, walking, ministry, creating, and loving privileges today.
May God continue to bless you, P.Y., with life . . . which you and your wife rightly celebrate each Feb. 25.
Thanks for sharing this experience, Philip! Scary, but so interesting what the human body does during “shock”. I was remembering what my neuro professor told us in one class about wanting to get a tattoo on her body that said, “if I have a spinal cord injury, please inject steroid immediately!” So, when the MD told me that they he’d like to inject Sol-u-Medrol because he was worried about the cord, I said, “please!” 🙂 Interestingly enough, I just had the nudge to write about my whole experience with my neck injury/surgery. It’s on my site and the post is called “Paralysis in His Presence” if you ever want to read it! Thanks for writing, Philip. You bless so many of us!
I am convinced that life is a gift from the Creator, given not just to the one who breathes it. Lived rightly, it is a gift to the rest of us as well. And that’s why I share your sense of gratitude. Your life is not just yours, and you know it. Thanks, Philip.
Philip-
Something I need to learn. My 7 hours is about 30 years long, but it’s of a different nature. Nonetheless, I’ve been thinking lately that my focus is wrong. In “City of Angels” the angels are presented as missing out on much of what we experience through our senses. I don’t know if the theology is good, but it’s an interesting concept. That even our bad days are to be enjoyed as LIFE… I’m not there yet.
A new friend–he’s 88, I’m 58… I think that in many ways, he’s younger than I. He doesn’t fuss over stuff the way I do.
May you continue to enjoy your second chance, and may you continue to write about it.
Blessings, Marty
You are a blessing, Father has used you in my journey from legalism to grace.