Well, it all started when I was about 2.  I was looking out the window of my bedroom on the second floor, when I fell out the window down to the pavement below.  It was a long way down.  God helped me survive.  My father called the ambulance while my mother held me and prayed to God.  I could already tell I had broken my arm because I called out, "Oh my broken arm!"  The ambulance took me to right to the emergency room.  I only cried for a minute.  I fell asleep while the doctors checked me all over.  Even though I had a big bump on my forehead and my arm ached,  I was ok.  They x-rayed my whole entire body.  My mom said I was brave.  And I was.  I got to spend the night in the hospital.  The next day I went home and looked at myself in the mirror.  My eyes were black and blue and I had a huge bandage on my forehead and a blue cast on my arm.  I survived.  My mom likes to say that angels were holding me as I fell.  The end.