In May of 2013 I was young, strong, and healthy. I had just turned twenty-three years old. Despite my age, I was extremely purpose-driven and strove daily to pursue the calling God had placed on my life. My ultimate goal was to travel the world and inspire people as a children’s pastor and traveling evangelist and entertainer. But one day, in a matter of moments, I nearly lost all of it.
The morning of Friday, May 31, 2013 was just like any other morning. My alarm woke me up, I jumped into the shower, grabbed some breakfast, and drove to church to start my workday. On Fridays, I was in persistent study mode for the upcoming Sunday service. During lunch that day, I was scheduled for a meeting to discuss an upcoming juggling and comedy performance for the following weekend at the Red Skelton Performing Arts Center in Vincennes, Indiana.
The meeting went well. Everyone was excited about the upcoming performance. While trying to contain my excitement, I drove back to my church office to finish up the rest of the day. On the way back to my office, I found myself stopped at a red light. While stopped, I was rear-ended by a large box truck traveling at full highway speed (60–65 mph). My car was engulfed in flames.
I don’t remember anything after the collision. I can tell you that it was bad, and I could have been killed. Yet instead of my life coming to an end that day, I like to think that it was when it all began.
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