Divine Intervention (part seven)

When I went to college, I was ready for a little partying. My parents were very cruel strict wise and didn't allow us to go to parties in high school.

So once I was beyond their control, I went to Tijuana with a cousin and went bar-hopping. JT had become my standard for morality, having a Bible and knowing how to use it and all.

And he thought it sounded like fun.

I also started checking out the Greek system. I knew my parents couldn't afford for me to join a sorority, but a friend in my dorm did, and once she was in, we started making plans for me to go to a huge party with her.

But as I was walking down the hall to have her check out my wardrobe choice for the party that night, another friend was coming the opposite direction.

Pale, wrapped in a blanket, shivering, and so out of it that she didn't even notice me as she passed by and I called her name.

We ended up having to call emergency services and she and I rode in the back of a police car to the closest emergency room in the middle of the night somewhere in South Central Los Angeles.

You know, where the Rodney King Riots were.

Still, I think I was safer there than I would have been at that party.

And I have no doubt that God intervened to stop me from going down that bright, happy party path.


*This is part seven in a series. The rest is here.