When Alex Croxton and his son Brice were skiing in Breckinridge, they were first to arrive and last to leave the powdery Colorado slopes.

On the last run of their five-day stay Jan. 4, Alex watched Brice approach a small rise and disappear down the mountain. But as he crested the hill seconds later, he saw his son lying near a tree. Brice's skis were off, his legs angled oddly in the snow, one arm thrown over his head.

MARCUS YAM / myam@ajc.com (ENLARGE)

Brice Croxton rocks out on his birthday with friends Nathan Bedgood (from left) 13, Lizzy Bradley, 14, and Parker Berman, 13.

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"Jesus, please help him," Alex prayed. And then he started screaming. He fumbled for his cellphone and punched 911. Then he called his home in Suwanee.

His wife, Susan, answered. "Pray for Brice," Alex said. "He's hurt. Pray for Brice."

At Children's Hospital outside Denver, people she didn't know would approach Susan and ask whether they could pray with her.

She and Alex stayed by Brice's bed for almost two weeks. Brice had crushed and broken two vertebrae and severed his spinal cord. He would probably be in a wheelchair the rest of his life.

"You spend your life trying to protect your children, and then you realize you can't," Susan said. "I just have to believe this is part of God's plan, even if I don't understand it."

The close-knit Croxtons have tried to accept it, buoyed by their faith, Brice's positive attitude and an outpouring of support — moral and financial — from the Suwanee community.

Brice, 14, remembers a dream he had while he was medicated. His room was filled with snow, and there were skis in one corner. Someone was calling him at 9 a.m. to hit the slopes.

When he awoke, an episode of "That's So Raven" was playing. At some point, he said, he realized he couldn't feel his legs.

After returning to metro Atlanta, Brice spent two months at the Shepherd Center. His room offered a view of the entire city, "which was pretty cool," he said. He began different therapies as well as schoolwork.

The staff help make him as independent as possible, and he can now take care of all physical needs himself.

"A psychiatrist asked me if I wanted to kill myself." Brice snorted. "Or hurt myself. I said no to all questions. I saw people who couldn't move their necks. I have my arms."

Tommy Hopkins, a coach who had seen Brice's uncanny soccer ability since the boy was 8, said he could have been great if he had devoted himself to soccer. But Brice was involved in his church and his neighborhood, "and he played soccer just for the fun of it," Hopkins said. "He had this laid-back attitude, this calm confidence."

Last fall, Brice jumped to football, as a kicker. He planned to go out for the ninth-grade team at North Gwinnett High, where he starts school Monday. It's a little sad, he said, but at least now he doesn't have to choose between soccer and football.

Sister is 'blessed"

His 16-year-old sister, Olivia, and Brice have always been close, their parents said.

The night of his accident, Olivia climbed in bed with her mother and assured her that even though the family was surprised by what happened, God wasn't. Because God uses everything to glorify himself.

"I'm amazed at Brice," Olivia said. "Nothing upsets him. He says he's fine with everything, and he is."

While Brice was recovering, people helped install hardwood floors and widen doorways to accommodate his wheelchair. People sold "Pray for Brice" wristbands and held fund-raisers. They left food in coolers on the front porch. And flocks of people prayed for the family, Olivia said. She could feel the prayers strengthening her.

"I'm blessed to have a little brother who doesn't annoy me," Olivia said. "And now that I have my license, we're going to get out a lot more, just the two of us."

Joyful lesson learned

Alex Croxton can't think about his son's accident without crying, so he tries to avoid remembering. An ordained Baptist minister, he and his family are members of Shadowbrook Baptist Church, where Susan works as a receptionist. Alex said his primary job is to customize software for the Deutz Corp.

Since January, he has prayed constantly about his son. Bible stories filled with pain and suffering, "they all point to trust in God," he said. "All I have in the end is my trust in Him, because He does have a plan."

Rather than focus on the activities Brice can no longer enjoy, Alex thinks about the positive points. Brice can play the guitar. He can play pingpong and pool. He can attend school and take notes and tests.

"Susan is a homebody, and Brice is like her," Alex said. "He seems very content to be home all day."

Thanks in part to donations, the family was able to install a $15,000 lift to take Brice's wheelchair from the main floor of the family's house to the recreation room below.

The day-to-day needs have been met, but Alex worries about the long-term implications of a paraplegic son. Brice will need a special car, perhaps more surgeries, and high-tech equipment. A device that stimulates his leg muscles electronically costs $15,000.

"I want him to have his independence," Alex said. "I just don't know what the future holds for him."

Brice's accident has taught Alex a lesson: You have to let people love you. As a minister, he has been the person reaching out to others, and it was unusual for him to be the recipient of such an outpouring of support.

"So, from that perspective, the accident has been a blessing," Alex said. "You hate the reason for it, but in some ways it has been a joy."