Finding Meaning and Calling After the Unexpected
Twenty years ago today, I almost lost my life.
I found myself in a four-time rollover accident as a passenger inside my own SUV on I-20 during moderate Metro Atlanta traffic. It’s true what they say about seeing your life flash before you. As we went airborne, the tires whirred and the pavement rushed up to meet my window, assessing the scene with cars in front, behind and to my right, I knew with complete certainty I wasn’t going to make it to another day. In those final seconds, my mind drifted to my assets, passwords, and house keys-trying to think through whether or not my affairs were in order. I surrendered to the end.
Then came the jolt back to reality. My friend was frantically yelling: “RAQ!!! CAN YOU GET OUT???”
Like a doctor had shouted “CLEAR!” and shocked my heart back into my chest, I opened my eyes to realize I hadn’t yet made it to the other side.
Like a doctor had shouted "CLEAR!" and shocked my heart back into my chest, I opened my eyes to realize I hadn't yet made it to the other side. I was alive, upside down, and perpendicular to oncoming traffic. Fueled by raw adrenaline, I unbuckled, scrambled out of the wreckage like an episode of Fear Factor, and sprinted across the highway barefoot, bleeding, and in ripped jeans. I had blocked 13 miles of freeway. Entire lanes of traffic stood frozen, staring at me as if they were looking at a ghost-while I, somehow focused on survival and dignity, immediately started pulling the random pin-curls out of my hair.
At the hospital, the ER staff stood in utter disbelief that we had walked out of a four-time rollover. Looking down at the exposed ligaments in my knees, the powdered glass embedded in my face, and my shattered hand, a profound realization overcame me: I was spared.
None of us are here by accident. Life doesn’t grant us extra time just to fill space-we are given every extra breath because our assignment isn’t finished yet. We each carry a unique calling, a purpose that only we can fulfill in this world. Surviving that day reshaped how I view every sunrise, every challenge, and every ache in my body. My scars aren’t just physical reminders of a traumatic afternoon; they are evidence that my story isn’t over.
Living with the Physical Receipts
Two decades later, my body carries the physical receipts. I live with post-traumatic arthritis in both knees and right hip and constant physical therapy. But every time those injuries ache, they remind me to ask myself: Am I living out my purpose today?
Surviving that day forever altered how I view my time on Earth. When you are brought back from the edge, you stop asking if you matter, and you start asking why you are still here. None of us are here by accident.
I am thankful to be part of this amazing universe.
It took facing the end for me to realize that my story wasn’t over yet-that I still have a purpose to fulfill.