News spread quickly throughout Moab. Although I lay in a drug-induced coma for the first week, I had visitors and get-well cards galore, including from people I had never met. Friends and strangers alike prayed and fasted for me. It wasn’t until the day after the fast that I started to show some signs that I might live. I can’t explain my recovery in any other way than a miracle.
It took months for me to fully regain my strength, and over a year to get the doctor’s okay to fulfill my first dream, to be a missionary for my church – the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. Two years have passed – fast! – since I left Moab for Sacramento, Calif. I can’t imagine anything I could have done during this time that would have been more rewarding than to share with everyone I meet the love of God that I felt when I woke up in that hospital room. I was grateful to be alive but scared I was going to die. “I want to live,” I told my parents. “I still have stuff to do here.” I had no idea what I and they and so many of you had already gone through. My parents laughed and cried, knowing I had a long road ahead of me but my brush with death was already over.
Every day of life since then has been a blessing. Before heading to school at USU in Logan, I will be coming home and sharing with you a few of my many incredible experiences on Sunday, Aug. 18, at 9 a.m. I would be honored to welcome any and all, especially those whose efforts gave me a second chance in life, regardless of whether you belong to my church or not. The meeting will be held at the LDS chapel at 475 West 400 North in Moab. I look forward to seeing you there.