Pick Up the Phone
“Pick up the phone, pick up the phone,” I whispered silently to myself trying to hold back my tears. It was a cold rainy night when my best friend and I found ourselves hanging from our seat belts in a car resting upside down.
We were seniors in high school spending our Friday evening preparing for our senior dance recital by spray painting our pointe shoes bright red. We ran out of paint right before painting our last pair of shoes and luckily the store didn’t close for another 45 minutes. The only problem was that it would take us about 30 minutes to get there without traffic. Quickly we hopped in my friend’s Jeep and headed to the store. Except we didn’t make it to the store. Not even a mile from my house, we hydroplaned going around a bend in the road, and lost control as the car spun and flipped landing upside down in a ditch.
I did what I knew to do first, I called my mom. Then I called my dad. And then, as my nerves began to worsen I called again and again and again.
Finally, I called 911.
My parents had gone to the movie theater that night to see a show. I am sure they were the only people in the entire theater to actually turn off their phones when the movies started. (Most of us see it as a suggestion). No matter how many times I called, they were not going to get my messages until the movie was over.
My friend and I were able to get ourselves out of the car slowly, climbing through shattered windows after evaluating if we were hurt. Thankfully, we were not hurt.
Before the first responders arrived, a car drove up to the scene of the accident and pulled over. The driver jumped out and I immediately recognized him. He was the father of two girls I went to high school with and a doctor at the local hospital. I noticed when we got into his car, his wife was in the front seat as well. She turned up the heat as he asked questions to begin assessing if we were injured.
I didn’t know him, but I knew him in that moment. I knew that when my own mother and father couldn’t be there to comfort me, God sent another mother and father to protect me and provide comfort.
There are a couple things that I take away from this experience whenever I think about it:
Our God is an awesome, protective and comforting God. He will never leave us alone.
Sometimes our first response isn’t necessarily the most logical. In hindsight, I probably should have called 911 first. But at 17 years old, I was scared, cold and wet from the rain, I wanted my mom. I was too blinded by my emotions to see the necessary: getting help immediately.
Never, ever, turn off your cell phone. (Just kidding)
The first responders showed up and I made my way to the ambulance to be evaluated. As I was sitting in the back of the truck, my phone rang. It was my mom. I picked up the phone, and with tears of relief in my eyes, I was able to confidently say, “Hi Mom, I’m okay now. You don’t have to worry.” And I was okay. By the grace and protection of God, I was fine.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kiera Bohan (@kierabohan) is an accountant by day, a yogi, knitter, reader and writer by night. She is a lover of Jesus, self-help books and quiet Saturday mornings. A consistent journaler since finishing college, Kiera began putting her thoughts into story form after joining the Writers Group at City Life Church.