Short Story: I Have Eight Hours to Live

My mom was at choir rehearsal at that time. When she walked in, I told her that the Lord had said to move back home. Being a woman of God, and without any hesitation, my Mom said it would be okay.

Five days had passed this time since anyone had heard from my mother. I remember praying to God to protect her from harm and for me to find her. The next day she showed up, but not in the way we had hoped. One morning as I was getting ready for school my sophomore year in high school, my phone rang to the voice of my stepfather. My stepfather had told me he heard a call come over the dispatch scanner at his work and my mother’s name was mentioned. The sheriff had informed my stepfather that my mother had been involved in an accident. My stepfather asked me to go to the emergency room and see what condition my mother was in because he lived a half hour away from the hospital. When I arrived at the hospital I found my mother cut out of her clothes, covered in her own urine, massive amounts of blood all over her body, and lying lifeless on life support on the table. At this point, no one knew whether my mother would be okay. My mother had bleeding on the brain as well as a tear in her shoulder, a shattered face, and a chest tube draining fluid from her lung which had collapsed. All I could do was pray! My mother’s life was in God’s hands now. Three days later she woke

As we were packing the last of our things into a U-Haul truck and saying goodbye to our friends, I suddenly got sad because I would be leaving what I knew. So as I took the last breath

Soon I had to break the news to my other family and friends. It was extremely hard for me to leave everyone. The hardest part of leaving was not being able to see my longtime friends. Everyone cried, the family, friends, neighbors. It felt as if we lost a piece of our heart. It was so sad but I knew that the best choice

As much as I missed my mom I did not want to leave. This time instead of going out and doing farm chores we stayed in and did house chores. My chore was with Ben we were with MC. We were supposed to sweep the balconies so we went upstairs so we could start from the top and work our way down. While we were up there I saw Mr. Fernandez and it was so funny because he had to do the saw dust toilet stuff and when I yelled to say hey to him what he said just made me laugh. Once Ben and I were done with that Carley Ann wanted me to come back in the kitchen so I could organize the containers again so I did and Ben helped me with that. At that point it was basically over and now we were going to take pictures, pray together one more time, and then

I walk down the stairs, surprised by the sight of all my family in my living room. Instantly, I'm wondering what's going on. Usually, no one is up at this time. I see everyone sitting down, and my dog Murphy laying there right in the middle of them all. I stare at my mom and I see the sadness in her face, but she's staying strong.

Heart beating fast, breathing hard, running for my life. Was this the end? Was my life near its deadline? I was in mid thought before it had struck me.

I remember waking up that day and that feeling in my stomach, knowing what was about to happen. Growing up I knew about my father's sickness. My family, I recall, was always supportive. No one ever thinks about how one day, everyone you’re around for years, can just vanish. I cherished my friends as I was growing up. I lived there for a majority of my life, up until fourth grade. I remember sitting at a neighbor's house and having the mother come into the room and inform me that I need to be home swiftly. As I ran home, my head was crowded with thoughts to the point where I could not even think about why I was supposed to be home quickly. That day marked the transition of what would be the biggest change in my life. As by dad became sicker,

It was time to take Micah to Nashville and get direction for our son. A few nights before we left I was up all night. I spent time seeking God about our situation. My heart was broken and my despair was without words, but God was there, and as always He directed me. He reminded me about the time when Miranda had the chicken pox. She was just over a year old and Micah had just turned three. Micah was determined he would not get them. I was positive he would. One day in the shower God moved on my heart to pray Micah would not get the chicken pox. I felt it was crazy to ask God to keep Micah from the chicken pox. As far as I was concerned, chicken pox was a part of childhood. After all everybody gets them. God continued to impress

You could tell my brother was screaming as much as he could with his small little lungs. I quickly ran over to our tiny bathroom wondering what was going on. There you could see my little brother using all his force to hold up my mom who had fainted on our cement floor. Even with the two of us repeatedly yelling at her to wake up, her eyes stayed closed. I began to really worry. I ran over to her bedroom and scurried through my blanket looking for my phone. As my sister dialed 9-1-1, I ran back into the bathroom where my brother was sobbing. My sister had already called my aunts and cousins over. They were all trying to help wake her up. They called out her name multiple times. They also hovered rubbing alcohol under her nose, in hopes of her waking up. I let my brother know that everything was going to be fine and that the ambulance would be here in no time to help my mom. I was shaking as I sat next to my brother helping him hold up my mom. My older cousin took our spots and helped sit my mom up.

When it comes to the separation of parents, most children are left confused with an underlying pain of what they've known to happen. Struggling to get out of bed each morning, knowing my home would never be the same feels like falling to the center of earth with no one to hold me up and stop me from losing hope. I, desperately, wished for my parents to hold me up, to tell me the situation will get better, but they were barely keeping themselves together. I realized my mistake then, trying to depend on another human being when I should have turned to God. So I retreated to God's word, knowing my family needed consoling from only Him.

When my dad came home that evening he sat me down and asked me if I knew what cancer was. I had an idea so I just nodded my head, he went on to tried to explain to me how bad the cancer was that my mom had been diagnosed with. Seeing my dad so afraid scared me. The fear I felt then led me to realize that I needed to try and hide it because it would only hurt my dad more to see his children so upset. I did my best to help, I tucked my little sisters into bed while my mom was away at the hospital, read them stories and did the best I could at preparing snacks to comfort them. After my mom arrived home and she recovered from the surgery she started chemotherapy. The miserable treatment that attacks the cancer also makes her very ill. Every other week she was sick. Before every bad week I wanted to cry, but that wouldn’t help anyone. Lane and Kenna already were crying, if I cried it could only hurt my parents

Tears poured down my face like I was in a rain forest, hugged my mom tightly as if she was a cuddly stuffed animal and I prayed, prayed like I’ve never prayed before. Not really knowing what was going on or what was going to happen. My sister arrived home, followed by my dad shortly after. While we waited to hear back from the hospital, we sat on the couch in the living room bawling our eyes out probably. Don’t worry, I will tell you about what is going on.

We all got into the car and immediately my sister was bombarded with questions. “Is he ok?”, “What happened?”, “Who is with him?” She answered each one to the best of her knowledge. She told us that his heart had stopped and started back up again, and that Mama (my Mom) and Papa (my Dad) were at the hospital with him. The car ride there was a very scary ride, because we were all so frightened by what had happened.

At 15 years of age, I discovered that I was 5 ½ months pregnant. As a straight-A student in my school, a quiet and reserved kid, this didn’t just come as a shock to my family, but also my classmates and the entire faculty. My sister was the one that took me to the doctor to get my first check up, and though I begged her to not take me to our Family Physician, she didn’t know where else to take me. He himself is a Christian and as soon as he put the Doppler on my belly, he looked at me, with tears in his eyes, and said, “Well, whatchya gonna do, Momma? Even if abortion WAS an option, I wouldn’t let you do it!” He sat in the room with us for over an hour while we all cried, he offered resources if and when I wanted them, but he knew I had a lot to think about. When we left, he gave me a hug and told me that he loved me and God still loved me. His kindness and his words have never left me. That was just the beginning. After we left, the questions in my own head started to rain down on me! What WAS I going to do? I told my mom first and then had her tell my dad. Two days after I told them, my mom went to church while I decided I didn’t want to face the shame seeing people that I not only knew, but I babysat for and had become a part of their families. My dad didn’t go to church that Sunday as well for the same reasons. While I was getting ready with my sister to go to a different church, my dad yelled down the stairs at me and told me that I had some company. I