The Justin and Jessica Chronicles: Part Seven

In the summer of 2000, our youth group would embark on Mission Impact our third Choir Tour. This year we were headed to The Lone Star State. 

In two years we’d grown significantly in size; now consisting of 120 youth and 25 plus adults. We’d also branched out in new areas of outreach. Instead of just singing for churches and revivals, we held backyard Bible clubs (mini summer camps for underprivileged children) and performed Christian rock concerts in Windixie parking lots.

Justin and I felt like we were spending our teenage years pretty wisely, instead of partying like most kids our age. 

On the final day of our trip, we are packed up and ready to go home. All of our mission trips came complete with a fun excursion tacked onto the end (remember Opryland). This year we would be stopping at Six Flags Kentucky Kingdom.

My bible club is the final stop before hitting the road, and I am the last person to make my way onto the church bus. I grab the rail and start climbing up the stairs when someone reminds me to grab the trash.
“Oh crap!” I say while making a 180, and heading back down the stairs.
I am so intent on grabbing the trash that I fail to notice the Chevy Tahoe is speeding my way.

The vehicle is going so fast that it sends my 110-pound, 5 foot 4 frame body six feet into the air. My head cracks the vehicle’s headlight, and my body puts a large dent in the front of the hood.

I wake up in an ambulance with a brace around my neck. 

“What’s going on?” I say quietly. 

“She’s awake,” says a familiar voice; it’s my dad.

“Hey baby, do you know what happened, can you talk?” he asks.

“I can talk, what’s going on daddy?” I cry.

He informs me that I have been hit by a car, and I have been unconscious for half an hour. I feel groggy, scared, and my body is in a tremendous amount of pain — I wonder if I will ever walk again.

Dad squeezes my hand and rubs my head as we ride 45 miles to a hospital in Dallas, TX.
Much to everyone’s surprise, I don’t have a single broken bone in my body. The doctors determine that I’ve suffered a mild concussion but say I am cleared to leave the hospital that evening.

Hours have passed since my accident when Justin finally walks into my hospital room.

“Hey Wonder Woman,” he says, “how are you feeling?”

I didn’t know it at the time but Justin had witnessed the entire accident. While I was lying in the street, he crawled over to me and grabbed my hand; never leaving my side until the paramedics forced him away. Justin insisted on riding with me in the ambulance that day but was told there was only room for one additional person. He ended up having to get a lift with a parent from one of our bible club kids. For over an hour, he didn’t know if I was alive or dead.

“I’ve been better,” I reply, “did the rest of the youth group already leave?”

“Yes,” he says.

“Does this mean we don’t get to go to Six Flags?” I ask with tears forming in my eyes.

I had just survived being hit by a car and it was close to a miracle that I was alive and walking away free and clear. But the moment I was told that I would have to miss out on Six Flags, I was crushed and my emotions went into overdrive.

“Babe, I’ll take you to Six Flags another day,” he says, “you focus on getting better, it’s going to be a long drive home.”

Mom, dad, Justin, and I would need to make several stops to rest in hotels on our way home. Mom naturally put Justin and me in separate rooms.

On our first night, I awoke around midnight to a startling sound. I sit up and begin scanning the room when I notice something on the floor beside my bed. It’s Justin, and he is huddled inside a blanket sleeping on the floor next to my bed.

“What are you doing?” I whisper worrying that my mom will catch him.

“Your dad was snoring, and I was worried about you, so I snuck out to come and check on you,” he says.

“If mom wakes up, she is going to be mad,” I whisper back.

Justin looks up at me, tears streaming down his face, and says, “I thought I’d lost you, baby, I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”