Now we come to one of the darkest hours of our lives. A darkest hour that gave birth to our most defining journey – a journey that is still unfolding, and is shaping our lives in an unprecedented way. Here, for a while, Phil must tell the story alone, because Brandi does not remember it.

It was July of 2012. Brandi and I had been married a little over a year, and this was the first time we had spent a day apart. I was hanging out with a few of my oldest friends who had just finished college and moved back into the area, whilst Brandi was spending time with my two sisters.

Our lives were actually in a state of transition to some degree, as we mentioned in the previous chapter. Up to this point, I had been working full time as a partner in a business started by myself and a friend, which had been successful enough to be our primary income source. However, I had felt a growing sense that a transition needed to happen, and therefore I had stepped down from that position just a few weeks before the accident, and we were preparing for whatever was next. We thought that would just be a new season of doing a different business and being more heavily involved at church. God knew, though, what actually lay ahead. I know this because of some things that actually happened in the days and weeks preceding the accident. I’ll refer back to some of these things a bit later in the story.

So, I was in Madison, and without any cellphone signal. There was a landline at my friend’s house where we were hanging out, but we were outside for most of the day. While sitting on the porch, we heard the phone ringing repeatedly. Walking in to see who it might be that was calling incessantly, I noticed that it was my mom’s number. I answered, a wave of dread coming over me, only to hear my mom say “Brandi and the girls have been in an accident.” My worst fears became real, and I almost dropped the phone. “Is she okay?” I asked. My mom hesitated before replying, “She’s okay, but it’s serious. You need to come as quick as you can.” I didn’t know what to think, and it felt like a waking nightmare as I grabbed my stuff, quickly told my friends that there had been an accident, and took off for Fredericksburg.

It was the longest drive of my life, I can tell you. I prayed the whole way, but the fear gripping my heart couldn’t be quelled. At some point during the long drive, I called my cousin (and lifelong friend) Mike, and he and I prayed together. I was hoping for the best, but something told me to prepare for the worst.

When I finally pulled into the ER parking lot and rushed in, there were probably 50 people from church in the waiting room. Several people came alongside me and put their hands on me as I approached the desk. In a few moments, my mom came out into the waiting room. David Bradshaw was with her. I know in my heart it was worse than I feared.

They took me back to the surgical waiting room, where Brandi’s family had arrived shortly before. I found out that Brandi had been unconscious and unresponsive on arrival (I didn’t find out until later that she had been without breathe or pulse on the scene), and had been rushed into the OR. They had yet to hear anything from the doctors. Honestly, I couldn’t even think at this point. I had no grid for what was happening.

A short time later (though it didn’t feel short), we were asked to move into the ICU waiting room, because Brandi had been moved from the OR. After waiting there for a while, the doctor finally came in to address us. He said that Brandi’s injury was life-threateningly serious. Her brain was bleeding and her neck was likely broken. They had drilled through her skull to place an ICP monitor (which measures pressure) in her brain. The shock began setting in in earnest. I remember throwing up repeatedly in the hours that followed this initial report.

When we finally were able to go back to see Brandi, words cannot describe what I encountered and felt. She lay utterly motionless except for a constant involuntary tremble. A machine breathed for her, she could not breathe on her own. There was blood coming from her ears. Her neck was in a brace, and a large metal “bolt” protruded from her skull with a wire attached to it. Wires and tubes connected her to machines on every side. There lay the body of my wife, but something was missing…Brandi. I could not feel her. I had stood and watched her sleep countless times since we’d been married. Yet, I could always feel her – feel her essence – feel her soul. This time, I could not. Half of my being had been ripped from the land of the living, it seemed, and my whole world was falling apart.