John's Miracle Pt. 1: The Accident

In this post:

Part 1 shares the accident itself, the emergency response, and John’s initial diagnosis after the church van rollover.

Welcome to The Butler's Pantry

If this is your first time reading one of our blog posts, this one is longer than most, and for good reason. We felt it was finally time to share the miraculous story of what happened to our family this year.

Because there is so much to tell, we’ve divided this testimony into three parts. In each one, you’ll see specific ways God showed up for us in the middle of a very difficult and frightening situation.

As you read, we pray this story does more than simply move you; we pray it strengthens your faith. If God did this for us, He can do it for you. We are no more loved, chosen, or favored than anyone else. God is still healing, still saving, and still setting people free every single day.

How It Started

The morning of March 4th, 2023, started early in our home. A small group of men, seven altogether, including me (John), met at the church (Center for Hope International Ministries) at 7 am to load into the church van and head to Rockford, IL, to attend a Men's Day event. Stephanie decided she would drop me off, so she could have the car for the day. So, we loaded up Jake and headed over. There had been some rain the night before, and temperatures had dropped quite a bit. When we got to the church, the parking lot had a thin layer of ice. As I exited the car, I said goodbye to Stephanie, carefully walked over the icy patches, and greeted the other men who were already there.  

As Stephanie drove off, she waved to our driver, Reverend Clarence Falls Jr. Rev. Falls is the go-to driver for most church events. He grew up driving in winter weather, and he has always been the person we trust to drive for airport drop-offs and anything where church members need to get somewhere safely. In other words, we were in good hands.  

As Stephanie left the church, she passed our Bishop, Larry Taylor, who was headed up the driveway. She waved and said a quick prayer for the men's safety on their trip. She and Jake headed home for what she thought would be a day of cleaning an empty house. She had her phone on silent, not thinking she'd need any sort of notifications. She put on music and started planning her schedule for the day—first up, the kitchen, dishes, and organizing things.  

Once all the men had arrived, we all settled into our seats. I was towards the back of the van, sitting next to Mike, chatting about what I don't even remember now. But sitting in the back, it didn't even occur to me to wear the seatbelt. All those years of riding the school bus growing up, seatbelts in that type of transportation, weren't a thing. So, out of habit, I chose not to buckle up. That will never happen again.

Black Ice

We drove through town, as usual, heading for Route 39 from 55. The ice in the church parking lot wasn't an indicator for the rest of the roads in town. They were clear. We took the horseshoe-shaped, uphill graded onramp for Route 39, and we were all just chatting and looking forward to the men's breakfast. Some of us carried coffee with us, placed in the van's cupholders. Even if I don't eat first thing in the morning, coffee is a necessity. As we rounded the end of the on-ramp and came to the top of the slope, something happened. To hear Rev. Falls tell it, after seeing the ice in the church parking lot, he was very mindful ofblack ice. As I said, he grew up driving in all types of weather, and he knew what to look for. As we rounded the top of the sloped onramp, we hit black ice. The front of the van skidded, angling toward the grassy shoulder. He was able to straighten it, but then the rear began to slide. He corrected again, but then the front slid. We felt the motions in the back, but we never really thought it would be more than getting control back and going on our way. We weren't going very fast, as we were coming out of the turn, and still needed to pick up some speed in the upcoming straightaway. Everything Rev. Falls tried to regain control of didn't work. What I thought would be a skid onto the shoulder turned into something more. As the van slid onto the grassy shoulder, the momentum of the van carried on. The van tipped. As it tipped, many of the men remember seeing things happen in slow motion. For me, it seemed like a split second. We rolled down the hill of the embankment. Yes, and about now you're probably remembering, I didn't have my seatbelt on. I remember tumbling out of my seat and rolling inside the van. Fortunately, our van had curtain airbags and these inflated to stop me from breaking through a window or worse. In the roll, we came to an abrupt halt. Still dazed, I assumed we had hit something. The stop was that jarring. Then, there was silence. I only knew one thing to do: plead the blood of Jesus. "THE BLOOD OF JESUS, THE BLOOD OF JESUS." 

Rev. Falls called out, "YOU GUYS NEED TO SAY SOMETHING". Slowly, other voices called out. The men who were wearing their seatbelts were left hanging like rag dolls because the van had landed on its side. I was still in the back, confused by the van's position, disoriented from rolling. I felt a sharp pain in the center of my back. I think I hit an armrest on a seat, but in those circumstances, I didn't really know. Then Bishop Taylor's son, Marcus, said, "I feel something hot". The realization that the van could be on fire hit Rev. Falls, and his instincts kicked in. He and Bishop Taylor were in the front seat (wearing seatbelts). Bishop Taylor had to unbuckle and kick out the broken windshield to exit the van before Rev. Falls could unbuckle and drop down to the ground. Once they crawled through the broken glass and had gotten out, they came around the back of the van and opened the back doors. Once those were open, the rest of the men (me included) were able to crawl out of the van, lying sideways. We found ourselves in a muddy, semi-icy, grassy field. Adrenaline is a powerful thing. Survival instincts are a powerful thing. Dazed, we looked around and realized all were accounted for and had walked away from the accident. The men's ages in the van ranged from the youngest in their 30s to the oldest being in his early 70s. ALL OF US WALKED OUT. Let that sink in.  

The next things for me are a bit of a blur, in part because as I leaned against the van, I began to have a sharp pain in my back. I had to sit. The pain was too much to stand. I couldn't sit through. I needed to push myself up with my hands, to help alleviate the pain. I didn't know why it hurt, but it did. While trying to manage my pain, I noticed a woman in a red jacket talking to one of the other men. I had no idea where she came from, but later was told she had seen the accident from the truck stop across the road. She had run in the mud and ice across to check on and had called 911. She spoke to several of the men, and waited to speak to the police. Oddly enough, we have no idea who she was. Her name wasn't on the police report, and no one saw her leave the accident scene. At some point, emergency services arrived. I realized I needed to tell Stephanie what happened. In my pocket, I was able to access my cell phone and send her a text. "We have been in a bad accident 911 is here".   

The Text Message

Having completed washing the dishes, I (Stephanie) decided to check my phone. I had 3 or 4 unread messages. Strange. I check and see a conversation between our boys. Something about anime, or video games. Oh, and a message from John. "We have been in a bad accident 911 is here". My immediate response was that I couldn't be understanding this correctly. Someone probably rear-ended the van, and they're sitting on the side of the road waiting for the police or something. I call. John answers, but he's breathing heavily. The following is the conversation, to the best of my memory:

John: "Hello, gasp, gasp".

Me: "John? Are you OK?"

John: "Yes, we were in an accident, 911 is here, we rolled over once gasp, gasp".

The blood drained from my face. "We rolled over."

Me: "Can you give the phone to the paramedic?"

Paramedic: "Hello, is this Stephanie?"

Me: "Yes, my husband said he was in an accident?"

Paramedic: "Yes, they were in an accident, but everyone is breathing."

I thought, breathing? Was not breathing a possibility? More blood drained from my face as my heart began to race.

.

Me: "He said they rolled?"

Paramedic, after a short pause: "Ugh.. yeah, a couple of times."  

Now, the reality sets in. Rolled a couple of times; it is a very different thing from the original idea of them stranded on the side of the highway. The adrenaline starts to hit me. The paramedic let me know they would be going to OSF St. Joseph Hospital and that it would be at least 30 minutes before they arrived, as they have to move John from the hillside into the ambulance, get him stabilized, etc. Paramedic: "Don't speed to get there". We live 5 minutes from the hospital. I ask him to tell John I love him and say goodbye. Now what? I need to get dressed; I need to get to the hospital. No, we need prayer. Does anyone else even know they've been in an accident? The first text is to our prayer leader. "PRAY The church van was in an accident. John is going to the hospital, I don't know anything else". The next texts went to our friends whom I knew would pray. 

Emergency Room

 I got dressed and headed to the hospital. Once I got to the ER, I arrived before the ambulance. The reception staff told me that I would not be allowed back until they had arrived, had been triaged, and had a room. So I waited. The aforementioned 30 minutes passed with no sign of John yet. So I went outside to get some air. I saw an ambulance arrive. Hopeful, I asked the two police officers if they were with the accident that had happened, and the one officer said "No", "I'm sorry". I explained I was waiting on the ambulance, and he was kind enough to say, "Let me ask them if this is him." He went over, and after a brief exchange, he said it was, and that they would let me say hello to John before they took him into the ER. I climbed into the back of the ambulance to see him strapped to a backboard with a cervical collar on. He said he had been in pain, and they were injecting him with something. I told them I would get out of the way. Now that I know he's here, I'll be going back once they have him in his room.  

Back inside the waiting room, I relay the message that John has arrived to our friends. I had calls and texts from our church friends asking if John was okay and that they were praying. Everyone knew this was serious, and I still had no idea what had happened to the other men. I received a call from our dear friend Pat. She explained that the other men, except for one, Mike, who had also been without a seatbelt, had injured their legs. Everyone else is OK? I couldn't comprehend the fact that men in their 50s, 60s, and 70s had been in a rollover accident, the same one that had put my husband in the hospital, and they were OK! Grateful, I just exhaled and thanked God.  

When I was finally allowed back into the room, John was still flat on his back. He was in a hospital gown and able to speak. I saw a red plastic bag in a chair. I stood out of the way as nurses tended to him, asking about sensations in his feet, whether he had any numbness or tingling, and whether he could squeeze their hands. He'd be going for a CT soon. In the meantime, I was able to stay. Tears of gratitude for his life began to flow. I couldn't do anything but cry and be grateful that he was alive. Seeing him, although in a lot of pain, alive and talking. We wept, we thanked God, and we praised him for his hand of protection over the van, and the other men in it, and had a real understanding of how bad this could have been.

John explained that he crawled from the van and, upon sitting, something didn't feel right. The paramedics placed him on a backboard to bring him up the hill, and the pain was excruciating. The CT scan would be able to tell us more. I really had no idea what to expect. They soon came and wheeled him out. I was left alone in the room to wait for his return. I saw the red plastic bag in the chair and went to look in it. I found John's blue jeans, clearly cut from the bottom seam of the hem all the way up to the waist on both legs. They were smeared with mud on the knees, his shirt was cut up the back, and his underwear was cut off him. "Wow" is all I could think. He came back, still in even more pain, and the nurses administered something to try to help him with that. It wasn't really helping, though.  

The Diagnosis

This doctor was a neurosurgeon. Clearly, he knew the spine and things that would be of concern. While showing us the X-rays, he started with - "You have two crushed vertebrae, the T10, and the L1. If you think of vertebrae like a tin can you stepped on, that is what has happened to you. Also, we can see one of the vertebrae, your L1, has been pushed back towards the column of nerves; however, it seems as though it has not been moved enough to cause damage. You didn't have a seat belt on, is that right?" John says, "Yes." "This could have been a lot worse." With that, we spent the next few hours waiting for the evaluations to determine whether he would be released or admitted. The difference? His pain level and his ability to move/be moved. I also took it upon myself to Google L1 injury. Here's my tip: if you (and I hope you never do) find yourself in that situation, don't Google anything. I immediately closed my phone and purposed not to look at it again. Google wasn't giving me hope, and this was not the time to go looking for bad news. 

The Next Part of the Journey

While we waited, visitors came to check on us. Pat, who came down as soon as she heard, came into the room and sat with us, prayed with us, and waited. Rev. Falls, his wife, and his daughter came to check on us. His hand was clearly heavily bandaged (I assume from crawling through broken glass). Seeing him, John and I were just so grateful he kept his wits about him while driving. We know, without a doubt, that one of the reasons so many men walked away without injury was due to his steady hand at the wheel. After several hours, the decision was made to admit John. His pain level was so high that they couldn't get it controlled, and there was no way that I would be able to help him; we couldn't even get him into a sitting position to get him in a car to take him home. His screams of agony upon the slightest movement broke my heart. But even in that, we were grateful. He could've lost his life. I could have been a widow. The other wives of the men in the van could have been widows. It was just a miracle.  

After all the paperwork was completed, John (still in tremendous pain) was wheeled up to the 2nd floor. Every bump and jostle caused him to grit his teeth and try not to cry out in pain. 

It was the beginning of our hospital journey.  

Photos:

The Van Photo Credit: Clarence Falls Jr.

X-Ray

ER - Waiting for CT Results