Meet Anne Jackson, the fighting marshmallow

When my mother, Cheryl Bush, became an elementary school paraprofessional in an Other Health Impaired (OHI) classroom, she encountered an astonishing student with a thriving vocabulary, an impressive maturity level, and an optimistic view of life. And to this day, Anne Jackson remains a daily topic in the Bush household. During our after-school car conversations, my mother often stopped mid-sentence to provide me an update on Miss Jackson, which allowed me a peep into her life without even knowing her personally.

By the end of the 2013-2014 school year, I discovered how much Jackson loves ranch dressing, potato chips, attractively shiny objects, and the color red. I learned about the hilarious smirk she wears when she does something playful, her heartwarming interpersonal skills, and how her brain basically holds compliments that she readily dishes out. I also distinguished that she comes from a kind family and has two siblings, an older brother Canon and a younger sister Kate.

“Anne is just a bright child. She loves people, and she wants to talk to everybody. She’s full of compliments, and she sees the good in everybody. I think that in itself is her best trait,” Bush said.

However, I also learned how Anne became her current self. On April 13, 2010, her life changed forever, and the Jackson family witnessed a tragedy that quickly became the miracle of their lifetime.

Mother Kathryn Jackson and the three children were gathered in the family van. Upon reaching a stop sign, Kathryn prepared to turn left on South Cobb Drive. She reviewed her left side, and nothing appeared. She repeated the steps for her right side and did not see anything.

A truck in her blind spot T-boned the van on the driver’s side. While Kathryn remained unconscious, the vehicle did a 90 degree turn all the way to the turning lane and stopped without entering ongoing traffic. Canon, seated behind Kathryn, screamed while blood poured down his face. Kate, situated in the backseat on the opposite side, suffered neck whiplash and her eyes practically bulged open, engulfed by shock. Anne sat behind Canon, and after the collision, she slumped lifelessly with her head resting on the seat. Emergency personnel surrounded the van and immediately life-flighted Anne to Children’s Hospital, while the other three went to another one.

Anne’s computerized tomography (CT scan) showed that her eyes were fixed and dilated, and she was almost dead. The neurosurgeon notified father Eric Jackson of an emergency surgery to remove part of Anne’s skull. Because her brain was swelling profusely, only the surgery could save her life.

After the procedure, the surgeon drained spinal fluid to relieve the pressure. In reality, if Anne had made it to the operating table only 30 seconds later, she would have died. The doctors successfully placed the tube down her ventricles but could not assure she would live through the night.

The traumatic brain injury alarmed doctors, so they remained unaware whether Anne would live. But after two weeks in ICU, she began her redemption journey. Her words came back the quickest. One day, Anne’s doctor showed her Lucky Charms cereal pieces to get her head moving. The therapist asked, “Do you want the cereal, Anne? Or the marshmallow?” Her eyes darted toward the marshmallow. The therapist encouraged her again: “If you want the marshmallow, say the word.” After six speechless weeks, Anne tried with all her might and expressed her desire. Marshmallow.

I wanted to meet and know this fighter for myself. After almost two years, I finally met Anne Jackson. When I first caught glimpse of her, I felt like I had known her forever. She knew “Mrs. Bush” had a daughter, but she never expected such a tall one: “You’re bigger than I thought you’d be,” she exclaimed.

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Anne assumed the position on her “queen chair” for the interview. “I was wondering when you’d get here,” she admitted. Note to self: Never keep the queen waiting.

Seated in her “queen chair,” the young royal joined me for an interview. I both confirmed and discovered some truths about her. I almost deemed her a Southern belle—she not only adores Chick-Fil-A, she enjoys sweet tea too. Her only drawback is she loathes football, which contributes to her dislike for Sundays. She does, however, appreciate Saturdays: “I can watch TV all day if I please,” Anne relished.

She and her siblings share a close relationship with each other. Kate appreciates Anne’s playful nature, so when they play pretend games, Kate assumes the role of anything Anne chooses. The two sisters also play Candyland; although Kate does not like the game, she participates simply because Anne likes her to. Canon admires Anne’s ability to flatter everyone she meets. She can compliment strangers without hesitation and uplift people just by speaking. Before the accident, Anne maintained a shy persona. She always loved people, she just never knew how to approach them. Now, she cannot help herself.

“She’s never afraid to say what she thinks, no embarrassment. If someone walks up to her in the street, she’ll compliment them and go ‘Hey, I like your dress’ or ‘Hey, nice hat.’ Everywhere she goes, she just makes people smile,” Canon admitted about his sister.

Anne’s recovery especially touches her parent’s hearts and strengthens their faith. Seeing their child improve and grow in confidence delights them. Her very existence accurately depicts of natural beauty and strength.

“Anne physically represents what we all are spiritually, and that’s just broken. I think that’s why she’s so endearing because we’re all broken. We’re just broken in different ways than she is,” Kathryn said. “God’s kingdom values weakness over strength and humility over power, and so in God’s kingdom, she is a pearl. She’s a jewel. And to have the privilege to care for her is an honorable calling in God’s Kingdom.”

Her mobility has progressed since her accident 4 years ago. She pushes herself in the wheelchair and uses her walker to trek down “Kindergarten Horseshoe.” And as her physical self grows, so does her spirit. Anne possesses a supportive family, encouraging teachers, and the proper mindset to accomplish her goals of walking again.

As Anne’s father noted, sometimes God has plans for us that we do not expect, but we always triumph in His plan. Her life will undoubtedly inspire people to endure in spite of disability.

“I just tell her to keep trying hard like she is because one day, she’s going to be able to walk because she’s strong. She can do anything she wants to do,” Ms. Bush said.