Five minutes for you, Moments of Melody. In high school, blonde, good-looking Johnny Erickson was voted Outstanding Girl Athlete by her classmates. She captained the basketball team, played on the lacrosse team, and excelled in horse shows. But let's let Johnny tell her own story. Summer had been especially hot and humid that year. Nineteen sixty-seven. July was stifling. I practiced with the horses in the morning, worked up such a sweat, that only a dip in the bay could cool me. My sister and I rode to the Chesapeake Bay, beach, and dove into the murky water. I was never content to swim laps in a pool or splash around in the shallow part of the bay. I liked free swimming in the open water. A raft floating fifty or sixty yards offshore was a perfect target, and my sister and I raced to it. We were both athletic and sometimes reckless. When I reached the raft, I jumped on it and quickly dove off the side. It was a fast motion, done almost without thinking. I felt the pull of the water, and then a sudden jar. My head crashed into a rock on the bottom. I couldn't move. It was awful. With my mind I was telling my muscles to swim, but nothing was happening. I held my breath and waited, suspended face down in the water. My sister, noticing I hadn't surfaced, searched underwater until she found me. She pulled me to the top. I gasped for air. I tried to hold on to her, but again my muscles would not respond. She draped me over her shoulder and began paddling toward shore. Johnny spent the next several months in a hospital bed. The pain was not great, and doctors hoped some of her nerves would repair themselves. At first her room was crowded with visitors and flowers and gifts. It was easy for Johnny to be happy. Showered with attention, she simply waited to get well. Only after long months of medical reports did it sink in that she would not get well. Her whole lifestyle would change. No more sports cars, horse shows, lacrosse matches, maybe no more dates. The inevitable questions that follow tragedy crept in. Why did it happen to her? Why so cruel to blow at such a prime time in her life? Was God trying to punish her? She became so despondent she begged her best friend to bring pills so that she could commit suicide. The turning to God was slow. The change from bitterness and confusion to trust in Him dragged out over three years of tears and violent questioning. The first month, even years, I was consumed with the unanswered questions of what God was trying to teach me. I probably secretly hoped that by figuring out God's ideas, I could learn my lesson and then He would heal me. Finally, God became incredibly close to me. Few of us have the luxury. It took me forever to think of it as that, to come to ground zero with God. I had no other identity but God, and gradually he became enough. I became overwhelmed with the phenomena of the personal God who created the living universe, the universe living in my heart. He would make me attractive and worthwhile. I could not do it without Him. My focus changed from demanding an explanation from God to humbly depending on Him. Okay, I am paralyzed. It's terrible. I don't like it. But can God still use me paralyzed? Can I paralyzed still worship God and love Him? He has taught me that I can. Maybe God's gift to me is my dependence on him." Johnny travels the country speaking to civic groups about her art and her faith. Under her signature, on each drawing Johnny adds P.T.L. Praise the Lord. Her radiant attitude is an inspiration to all who meet her. you