A Complete Miracle
On Jan 3, 2017, my husband left for work just as our three children and I retreated to bed. Never in a million years did we think it might be our last goodbye. Next day around 3:30AM, I became wide awake and raced to the kitchen. The text from him read “I might make it.” As I drove to the hospital, there was no anxiety, only peace. It was the Holy Spirit carrying me in peace. The sweet whispers I heard said “This is what I created you for. Your purpose has arrived. Something good is going to come of this.” Then I am there in that moment, living my worst fears. I am trying to stay calm as my body falls into a state of shock as I get the news. Ninety minutes before, while working as a locomotive conductor at railroad yard, he spotted a suspicious figure in dark clothing. While operating a remote control train, he ignored his gut and kept working. Moments later, a bullet raced toward his head at point blank range. God, in some form, stopped the bullet from piercing his skull. It entered his head and stopped just before reaching the skull. Never fearing anything a day in his life, thinking he was hit by a rock or bat, he turned to face this evil only to be shot again, this time in the wrist. With no balance or equilibrium and the loudest imaginable ringing in his ears, God carried him 400 feet to the depot office, entering the necessary code as another shot rang out. He is strong, but this seemed impossible. The force of the bullet never knocked him down. God not only kept him standing, but carried him to safety.
It was amazing that the bullet stopped before entering his skull. I asked the ER doctor what medically or ballistically could explain this. The doctor called it a complete miracle.
We walked through this thing that was so incredibly hard, but God never left us. A few days after, I recall lying in bed as he was asleep and still fighting intense pain. I laid there, tears streaming, quietly saying “God, I know you were there that night, I know it was you who saved his life. But now in this, I don't feel you here. It hurts more than I can bear.” He always let me come to Him and was quiet as I poured my tears out to Him. Even though in the moment it felt as if God had abandoned me, He had not, and the next day, my strength was renewed and I knew it was from Him.
When I was walking through the period of initial shock, it was as if every Bible verse I had ever memorized had been deleted from my mind. I suppose that was His way of making me hungrier for His Word. I needed the power of His Word. His Word gave me more comfort and strength than I ever could have had otherwise.
I remember telling God, “You have the wrong person. I can't fight these demons, I don't know how, I am not strong enough, I don't know my Bible well enough.” But He knew His Word could. I went through a time where every time I prayed, I physically felt like a person was taking all of their weight and pressing it on my shoulders. So I kept praying and praying and reading more of His word. It took weeks, but eventually that physical weight went away when it realized it had no power where Christ resides.
Then I went into a season where I wanted justice so bad I could taste it. I begged God for justice, pleaded with Him. I became obsessed with having someone pay for what he did to my family and me. I couldn't understand how God allowed this evil to prevail. I screamed at God for answers. And then within 2 seconds, He provided a song, Mandisa’s “I’m Not Finished.” Yet, the thirst for justice seemed unquenchable. I promised my husband I would fight for justice as long as I had breath, but then I was confronted with the fact that I can’t deliver on that promise. Working against an industry that wanted to sweep the incident under the rug, I realized the only way this case will ever be solved was if God gave us another miracle.
At church, I stood alone praising God in worship, not knowing if my husband would ever be able to stand beside me again. Every song brought tears. At the time, I was unaware that these tears were healing my heart. I stood week after week, raising my hands to God, trusting Him in this storm even if there is no healing or justice. I learned tears are a form of praise to God. I learned to obey God’s voice in ways I never had before. I learned to step out in obedience, doing things no matter how uncomfortable or weird if God said to. I learned serving heals a broken heart. I learned to expect to hear from God every day. I learned coincidences are really just God at work. I learned facing fears with God changes you in unimaginable ways, you become bolder, fearless and stronger in faith and hope. My life was now more abundant than it was ever before. I saw firsthand how what man intended for evil, God turns into good.
I am beyond thankful for the miracle of my husband’s life being spared, yet found my desire for justice and for his freedom from chronic pain sometimes crowded out my gratitude.
Slowly the Holy Spirit led me to pray for this evildoer to be blessed. Some days, I uttered that prayer with gritted teeth. I noticed my heart slowly changing, only seeking God’s justice and will. Now my prayer is simply that good will come from all this pain.
