In 2011, I was only 18, although age could never prepare me for what God had in store for me. You see, I was like any other teenager just graduating high school, enrolling in college, and having a good time were all of my main priorities. I never knew all of that would change on a cold February night back home in West Virginia. After class one evening, I took a ride with my two friends looking for something to get into. Whether it be a party, girls, or just goofing off at Walmart, I was all in. It was nearing midnight as we drove through a road notoriously known as “the narrows”; named by its rocky hillside rising above a small stretch of highway. Little did I know what this name would mean to me later in life.

As we drove it felt the same as any other night, although I wish I could tell you how I felt the moments before a tragic event that would change my life. I wish I had known what may lie ahead just a mile down the road, I wish. On second thought, sometimes not knowing is for the better. Near the end, the hillside began to collapse onto my car, and suddenly my life was changed forever. I was transported to a local Emergency Room as I began to lose copious amounts of blood. Doctors worked frantically to save my life but statistically, I was a goner. A Neurosurgeon by the name of Ronald Hargraves was called for emergency surgery that would take hours to complete. He was tasked with removing broken skull fragments and rocky debris in my head that came from the hillside. As he left the emergency room my family rushed to him only to hear the 6 worst words a family with questions could hear at this time. “I did all I could do.” But what he did was more than enough for God to intervene.

The hospital room was set up as a makeshift funeral showing, with soft music, a sign-in book, and countless people holding hands as they awaited my last breath. My family was told the prognosis was poor and that two hours would be a miracle in itself. “Take your time and say your goodbyes.” Minutes turned to hours, hours came and went, and days went by. My heart rate started to increase and I started to move. I then began to choke on the oxygen ventilation. The doctor arrived and ordered the ventilator to be removed, but the staff panicked as they didn’t have a respiratory therapist at that moment. Doctor Hargraves said “I’ll take full responsibility” as he removed the vent looking at me sternly saying “What is your name?” I yelled Steven! He then held his hand up and said “How many fingers am I holding up?” I yelled again “Two.” The doctor then walked out to my father crying on the floor, and asked him to take a walk with him. My father, not sure what was about to be said, was hesitant, and fearful. “When Steven arrived I only gave him two hours to live. You see Mr. Young, I’ve treated patients who were shot in war and Steven’s injuries were far worse, but he’s in there talking to me. Mr. Young, go see your son, he’s waiting for you.”

My father ran to me and nearly jumped on my bed in tears. Now, I don’t remember much of the hospital stay but what my father said I told him that night always stayed with me. To this day, I reflect on these words when I’m in trouble. As he cried on my lap, he began to tell me how I was going to be okay, I then replied, “God told me I’m gonna be okay.” Whether God told me this I could never confirm, but I will say this. I beat the odds, and later I enrolled in Nursing school. I graduated one of the highest in my class after a brain injury. Today, I tell my story often. God took a broken kid and showed his greatness. I gave my life to God from a hospital bed and today I could never be more thankful. I will spend the rest of my life being grateful.