I\u2019m good under pressure.<\/p>\n
Part of that comes from my dad, a pastor, who taught me the best defense against fear is faith. He\u2019s talked in his sermons about it. I didn\u2019t expect to never be afraid, but I believed if I put my trust in God, he\u2019d help me work through my fear and do what needed to be done.<\/p>\n
Then there were the six years I served in the military. I learned to handle myself in all kinds of situations. The key was being prepared, so I could remain in control even if everything around me was going haywire.<\/p>\n
Those lessons came in handy after I fulfilled my term of enlistment and pursued my dream of becoming a pilot. I enrolled at Embry-Riddle Aeronautical University, one of the top flight-training schools in the country. My hope was to reenlist once I finished my degree, then earn my wings as a military pilot.<\/p>\n
My flight instructor was surprised at how easily I took to flying. He took me up in a Cessna 172 and was amazed to find I had fun practicing stalls. Stalling an airplane has to do with air speed. It\u2019s when you lose lift over the wings. Suddenly, the plane\u2019s dropping out of the sky.<\/p>\n
Most people flip out\u2014a primal fear of falling. Not me. You do stalls in training so you know how to avoid them\u2014and recover from them if they inadvertently happen\u2014in real life. To me, practicing was a chance to become a better pilot and to experience the incredible feeling of pulling my plane out of a stall and soaring into the sky again.<\/p>\n
Nothing, though, could have prepared me for what happened on February 12, 2008. Class had ended for the day. I hopped into my red 2006 Ford Mustang, got on the highway and headed toward my apartment. A car pulled in behind me. I hummed along to a gospel tune on the radio. Turning onto my street, I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed the car behind me turn too. Is he following me? Nah<\/em>, I was just hyper vigilant from my military training. They trained us to always be alert.<\/p>\n Still, I said a quick prayer. My apartment complex was just ahead. I slowed and signaled, then turned into the parking lot. I checked the rearview again. The car went into the lot across the street. Nothing to worry about. I pulled into a parking space and killed the engine.<\/p>\n I was about to open the door when I saw a man approaching, wearing shades and a black hoodie. Right away I knew he was trouble. It was way too warm for a sweatshirt. Quickly I assessed my options. A car on my left. A wall in front of me. I had two choices: Restart the engine, back up and floor it, or get out of the car and flee on foot. I ruled out the car\u2014I didn\u2019t want to risk being trapped inside. I decided to see what he wanted, then make up my mind: flight or fight. Grabbing my keys and cell, I got out.<\/p>\n That\u2019s when the man pointed a gun at me. \u201cGive me your purse!\u201d<\/p>\n I said, \u201cI don\u2019t have a purse.\u201d<\/p>\n He kept coming. \u201cGive me your purse!\u201d He stuck the gun in my stomach. I could see he was nervous. I didn\u2019t want to upset him. He reached over and snatched my keys and phone and popped the trunk. He forced me to the back of my car. \u201cGet in.\u201d I faced the trunk. I knew from a military briefing that if I got inside, I\u2019d probably wind up dead. I hesitated. \u201cGet in,\u201d he snarled. \u201cNow!\u201d<\/p>\n I did\u2014but only because I remembered the trunk release. I\u2019d read every word of the Mustang owner\u2019s manual as soon as I got home from buying the car, the same way I studied every gauge and knob and display on the instrument panel of my plane. I knew exactly where the trunk release was.<\/p>\n \u201cDon\u2019t move, don\u2019t make a noise,\u201d he warned. He slammed the trunk shut. Everything went dark. My heart hammered. I was trapped.<\/p>\n Fighting the instinctive panic, I found the trunk release and put my hand on it. Gently, I began to pull. But something stopped me: You have just one chance.<\/em><\/p>\n My eyes were adjusting to the darkness. Not that there was much to see. No room to move around either. The carpet was scratchy against my skin.<\/p>\n Pay attention<\/em>, I told myself. I heard the kidnapper start the car. He put it in reverse. What was he planning to do with me?<\/em> I shuddered. Had I survived six years on active duty, deployed for four months in Operation Enduring Freedom, with nothing worse than a twisted knee in a volleyball game, only to have my life threatened in some senseless crime? Get a hold of yourself.<\/em><\/p>\n I fell back on my faith. You know the fix I\u2019m in, Lord<\/em>, I prayed. I\u2019m putting all my trust in you.<\/em> Right there in the trunk, my fear receded. My mind cleared. I knew whatever direction he turned, he\u2019d have to slow down. If he went straight, he\u2019d have to stop at the stop sign. I waited for my chance.<\/p>\n He drove the Mustang forward, then stopped. I heard another car honk. Then he accelerated again. The speed limit was 15 mph. I couldn\u2019t tell what direction we were going. As soon as he slowed down, I pulled the trunk latch. Please let this be the right time, Lord<\/em>. I pushed the trunk open and jumped out. If I landed wrong, I knew I could hurt myself, maybe fracture a bone.<\/p>\n I landed on my feet. But the force of gravity pulled me backward onto the ground. Immediately I got up. There was a car stopped behind me. I stared into the driver\u2019s eyes. Something told me he was in league with my kidnapper. The driver froze. It seemed like he stared at me forever. Then he turned his wheel. I didn\u2019t hesitate. I took off down the side of the road.<\/p>\n I raced through people\u2019s yards, trying to put distance and objects between the kidnapper and me. I ran back to my apartment complex and beat on doors. One finally opened. An older lady. \u201cI was just carjacked and kidnapped. Can I come in and call 911?\u201d She let me in. I quickly closed the door and locked it. I was on with the 911 operator when there was a knock at the door. \u201cDon\u2019t open it!\u201d Too late. The door swung open. A hulking figure stood there\u2026a Daytona Beach police officer. He had been in the vicinity and responded immediately.<\/p>\n Officers arrested the kidnappers the next day. They were teenagers, trying to impress a gang by stealing a sports car. \u201cYou have no idea how lucky you are,\u201d one of the officers told me. \u201cCarjackings that escalate into kidnappings rarely turn out well.\u201d<\/p>\n I knew it wasn\u2019t luck that had saved me. It was preparation, both of mind and of soul.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I\u2019m good under pressure. Part of that comes from my dad, a pastor, who taught me the best defense against fear is faith. He\u2019s talked in his sermons about it. I didn\u2019t expect to never be afraid, but I believed if I put my trust in God, he\u2019d help me work through my fear and […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":29905,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[377],"tags":[],"ppma_author":[862],"class_list":["post-22522","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-emotional-and-mental-health"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n