Cindi Broaddus - A Random Act: An Inspiring True Story of Fighting to Survive and Choosing to Forgive

An Inspiring True Story of
Fighting to Survive and
Choosing to Forgive

CINDI BROADDUS

with Kimberly Lohman Suiters

This book is for Angela, Shelli, and Brandi
for all that you are and everything
that I am because of you

by Dr. Phil McGraw

I have always said that the decisions we make each day create the outcomes in our lives. If a vile, heinous crime were to ravage you and your family, if tragedy were to knock on your door, how would you react? Would you shrink into yourself, fearing life and constantly looking over your shoulder, or would you step up and challenge the label victim?

You are about to hear a story that will make you stop and think. It is an amazing story of courage in the face of tragedy. Not long ago, a jar of acid was thrown from a highway overpass and crashed through my sister-in-laws car, burning her all over her body. This senseless, random act of violence by a stranger changed Cindis life forever. She suffered third-degree burns, countless surgeries, and disfigurement.

I am still struggling to get my mind around such a stupid and random act. Why, out of all the people in the world and in all the minutes in time, why did she have to be under that bridge, at that moment, on that road, when that sick and demented monster dropped that acid? How could such a horrendous thing happen to such a good person? Because I know Cindi, because she is family, I am sure that I am by no means objective. So let me just tell you the facts, facts that I believe will make you as proud and humbled to know her through this book as I am to know her as a friend and family member.

As a single mother, Cindi did whatever she could to make ends meet. Working three or four jobs at a time, she put her three daughters through college, never asking for or accepting anything she did not earn. She never complained, she never seemed to get tired, she just did. She leaned on Gods strength and wisdom and put her family first, always doing what she had to do for her family, not merely to survive but to thrive with love and joy.

I have always believed and taught that You Create Your Own Experience. Where others might understandably find despair and frustration, Cindi has found strength, inspiration, and faith. Though she has and will continue to face a lifetime of surgical and rehabilitative procedures, and the pain and loss of function that come with those challenges, Cindi has chosen not to let that assailant hurt her again and again by robbing her of her spirit and optimism. Cindi could have chosen to wake up every day bitter and angry, but instead she chooses to wake up every single day and see the blessings in her life.

This book is the compelling story of how Cindi has found and embraced the strength to overcome. She still wears the outward scars of that day, but those scars have not changed the fact that she is truly beautiful both inside and out. She radiates good humor to all those around her. She does not look back in anger; instead she looks forward in joy to her family, friends, and colleagues, all of whom have supported her in her darkest hour. Her remarkable spirit has soared in the face of adversity. It is a spirit that is wonderfully contagious to all those who know her or read about her.

Its easy to be a victim, but Cindis never taken that attitude. She has instead made the choice to be much more than a casualty of her attackers madnessshe has challenged herself to move beyond her circumstance. In this book she uses the understanding of her own experience to create a path, a plan for others to learn and, ultimately, to find their own way, whatever their challenges may be.

I am so proud of my sister-in-law, have so much respect for her, for her integrity and her selfless desire to help others, and I believe that you will, too. This book is as powerful as it is important. Read it with your family, look for strength in one another, and find your hero.

Cindi Broaddus is certainly a hero of mine.

Me, on my last birthday before the attack

I NEVER HEAR it coming. I never see it fall. And I never hear the bloodcurdling screams that come from my own mouth.

I do not feel anything.

I must be dead.

But I cant be dead because I am aware that I have a few seconds left. So have I come back to life? Or was I never dead at all?

The only explanation is that I am suspended in a void between life and death. It is a reprieve, a few seconds to tell my children good-bye.

My first conscious thought is that Jim, my friend who is driving, will have to carry that message for me. I hear myself begging him.

Jim, please, pull the car over. Something has happened to me. I am dying. You have to tell my girls how much I love them. Tell them Im so sorry, I dont want to leave them like this. Please pull the car over, Jim, please.

I need him to listen to me, to give me every ounce of attention he has, but why wont he stop the damn car? The darkness is overwhelming, not only outside in the predawn blackness, but also inside of me.

Though the fire is scorching my skin, I cant get a more searing image off my mind: my three daughters. The more I slip into the fiery abyss, the farther away from them I feel. I cannot die like this. I have too much living I want to do. Please, God, get me home to my family. This cannot be real. I dont want Angela, Shelli, and Brandi to know I died like thisin so much pain and so afraid. I just want them to know I love them so much. I would give my life for each of them. We have been through it all together. If this is my end, I dont want my last moments to be apart from them.

Its so dark and loud that Im afraid Jim wont hear my desperate message unless he stops the car and listens to my every word. I need him to pull over so he can be my eyes, my ears, my mouthpiece. Does he even realize whats going on? I must be dying the way my mother did. Of a silent, deadly heart attack. Her death devastated me, so I know how my daughters are going to feel. I cant stand that thought. I cant stand leaving without them knowing that my last thoughts are of them.

I cant see! Jim, I cannot see. Im dying. Im dying! You must stop and listen to me. Please pull over, Jim. Please, youve got to pull over.

Jim hasnt answered me, hasnt explained why he wont pull over. Instead of Jims voice, I hear the voices of my daughters. I see their faces, but I cant touch them. I need them so badly right now, and I know theyd rush to my side if they knew what I was going through while they were sleeping. Can Jim even hear me, or have I already died? Is my time up?

Im screaming bloody murder, but to me, my voice is calm. It seems to have no effect on Jim. He drives faster. I cant see the road, the speedometer, or him, but I can feel him accelerating, regardless of my pain, my fear, my death. My mind is going a million miles per hour. Im reliving my life.