May 16, 2026.

At 3:18 in the morning, my mom received the phone call no parent ever wants to receive:

“Your daughter has been in a serious rollover accident.”

What happened that night changed my life forever.

But it also became the beginning of my God story.

Hi, I’m Katy, and this is the story of how God saved my life.

That night, me and two of my best friends climbed into a Jeep with two of our guy friends for a late-night Waffle House run. Just teenagers wanting waffles at 3 a.m. Chocolate chip waffles for me.

As we pulled out of the gravel driveway, everything felt normal… until it didn’t.

The Jeep kept gaining speed.

90+ mph.

I asked the driver to slow down.

My friends asked him to slow down.

Then suddenly, something came over me. Fear. Urgency. God.

Without hesitation, I grabbed my seatbelt and clicked it into place.

Moments later, we hit the curve.

The Jeep lost control, slammed into a power pole, and began rolling violently. Metal crushing. Tires screaming. Glass shattering. Everything spinning faster and faster.

Then darkness.

I imagine that was the moment I hit my head.

The Jeep rolled multiple times before finally landing in a field.

When I woke up, I was covered in blood. The night was pitch black and silent except for chaos all around me. Somehow, I climbed out.

Then panic hit me.

My two best friends had been thrown from the Jeep after the top ripped off during the rollover.

I found them lying in the field, not moving.

And somehow… with a broken neck… I ran.

I ran through the dark toward the only porch light I could see in the distance. I begged God the entire way:

“Please don’t let me die.”

I knew I was badly hurt, but all I could think about was getting help for my friends.

The homeowners heard me pounding on their door and called 911.

I told dispatch to call my mom.

My mom drove 27 minutes to the crash scene not knowing if I was alive or dead. No one would tell her anything except that there had been a serious accident.

Later she told me she was too afraid to look for me herself because she thought she might find me gone.

My stepdad found me first and called her with the words every parent prays to hear:

“She’s alive.”

I was rushed to a trauma hospital where doctors quickly realized my injuries were far worse than anyone expected.

I had:

• A broken neck at C5-C6
• Torn supporting ligaments in my neck
• Vertebral slippage
• Injury to my vertebral artery

I needed emergency surgery immediately.

But then came the first miracle.

My spinal cord was completely untouched.

Doctors could not understand how someone with my injuries had gotten up, run through a field, climbed a retaining wall, and gone for help.

But I do.

God carried me.

And the miracles didn’t stop there.

One of my best friends suffered a traumatic brain injury and multiple broken bones. Another had a broken lower back, internal injuries, and fractures.

Later I learned that because I ran for help so quickly, I may have helped save my friend’s life. She had to be intubated at the scene.

Then, on the way to the hospital, her ambulance was struck at an intersection only two blocks away from the ER. Emergency crews had to cut the ambulance doors open to get her out.

Still… she survived.

We all did.

After surgery, I was moved into the Trauma ICU. One friend was also placed in ICU, while the other was moved to the trauma floor.

Then we noticed something that felt too intentional to be coincidence.

My ICU room number was 9.

My best friend’s ICU room was also 9.

And my other friend was on Floor 9.

Even there, God kept us connected.

The days after surgery were brutal. Severe headaches. Dizziness. Seeing spots. Fear. Pain. Exhaustion.

Then my pastor and associate pastor came and prayed over me and my best friend.

Hours later, the pressure in my head eased. My medicine finally started working. I could finally eat again.

And while prayers were being lifted for my best friend, the girl who had been unresponsive began wiggling her toes and nodding her head.

The next day our Pastor came again to pray A few hours later, she woke up.

Fully awake.

Doctors were shocked.

But we weren’t.

Because God was already moving.

Today, all three of us are alive. Healing. Recovering. Walking testimonies of God’s grace and mercy.

Doctors say recovery could take six months… maybe a year before I ever touch a volleyball court again.

But my story belongs to God, not statistics.

What the enemy meant for tragedy, God is turning into testimony.

I truly believe every single person in that Jeep survived for a reason. We are living proof that miracles still happen.

God was with us in the crash.

He was with us in the ambulances.

He was with us in surgery rooms and ICU halls.

He was with us in every prayer, every tear, every moment.

And He’s still with us now.

This is not the end of my GOD story.

It’s only the beginning.

God is good even in the storm.

He is light in the darkest places.

He is still a miracle-working God.

And I am living proof.