#74 More Peaceful Than I Could Ever Imagine

 Photo by Joy Monét Photography

God was patient. I actually attended a great church and youth group growing up, but although I “believed” in God, I didn’t know Him. In my mind, He was the distant guy in heaven who was surely disgusted and furious with me for the way I was living. Boys, drinking, marijuana, and eventually partying in bars and clubs five nights a week was the life for me. Surely so much fun would make me happy, right? 

After a disastrous (and dangerous) engagement to an alcoholic when I was twenty, a devastating miscarriage when I was twenty-three, and a general feeling of “Is this all there is?”—at the age of twenty-five I was ready. I had begun listening to Pastors Chip Ingram and Michael Youssef on the radio on my way to work (my car didn’t have a CD player and this was before the days of Pandora). I loved the stories they told and the fact that God actually seemed to answer their prayers, make them happy, and give them purpose in life. I wanted that, and seeing the joy and peace God was offering me, allowed me the freedom to let go of the garbage I had been holding onto in an effort to maintain my “happiness.” 

“Take it, God.” 

It wasn’t easy. I’m not one of those people who had a sudden conversion and all of a sudden walked around singing, “This Is the Air I Breathe” with a huge smile on my face. I struggled. I still had a boyfriend who was SO not a Christian, and I smoked Newports like they were going out of style. I did quit smoking weed and sleeping with the unhappy boyfriend, but I wasn’t quite sure how to change in my current situation. 

My best friend from third grade, Julie, had been praying for me for a long time. When she heard of my decision, and my desire to start fresh, she said hesitantly, “Chris and I had actually talked and prayed about you coming to live with us here in Richmond, but weren’t sure if you’d be open to the idea!” I was open. It was a tough decision because I knew exactly one person in Richmond, which was a two-hour move south from my home in Northern Virginia. 

As I was lying in bed one night before I committed to go, drifting off, I heard a voice. I don’t know if anyone else could have heard it, but it was definitely not a dream. 

God (and yes, His voice is deep and booming): “Go to Richmond.” 

Me: “What?” (Only I would make God repeat himself.) 

God: “Go to Richmond.” 

Me: “Okay.” 

That certainly made my decision easier. I packed up a month later, moved down, and began my journey of getting to know Jesus. I have never—not once—regretted it. Since then I have been a part of a couple of amazing churches, made the best friends a woman could ask for, seen God answer prayer in mind-blowing ways, been to Haiti on mission, and become happier and more peaceful than I could ever have imagined. 

I still struggle. I’m not perfect by any means, but God’s grace is truly enough and He leads me back into truth each time I forget. I have hope, I have joy, and I know my future is bright because God will be right there with me no matter what.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#73. License Plate PS103

 Photo by James Schreiner

About 25 years ago, my best friend, Jennifer, lived in Atlanta, Georgia. She and I were in our twenties and had recently become very excited about the things of God. We would spend hours on the phone talking about the Word, and what He was doing in our lives. 

At the time, I was working in the small town of Berea, Kentucky, and had decided to drive down to Atlanta after work one evening to spend the weekend with her. I set off on my journey at about 6 p.m.—which put me just north of Atlanta at around midnight. This was before cell phones and CD players, so I remember passing the time listening to my only “Hosanna Worship” cassette tape and praising God the whole trip down. 

Now, this section of I-75 can be a very desolate place at that time of the night. The road is long and straight and there are no exits and no street lights—just miles and miles of flat highway. I never really acknowledged this until I felt that my life was in danger. As I was driving along, worshiping God, I noticed a car start to slowly pass me to my left. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a car full of guys waving at me and trying to get my attention. I was a little annoyed and just sped up to give them the hint that I wasn’t interested. 

What followed was about 20 minutes of terror for me. No matter what I did, I could not escape them. I would intermittently slam on my brakes or drive as fast as I could to try and elude them. Nothing was working. I was constantly looking ahead for an exit or in my rear view mirror for other cars, but there was nothing. I was on my own, with no cell phone, and no way of outrunning them. The situation grew worse when they started swerving into my car to force me off the road. At times, I would have to get in the emergency lane to avoid being hit. They were hanging out the windows, yelling and taunting me. I was terrified. My eyes were frantically scanning the road ahead and my rear view mirror for a sign of help. Nothing. 

Then—instantly—there were headlights right on my bumper. Instantly. They literally appeared out of nowhere. All I knew was that someone else was out there on the highway and I was not alone. As soon as I saw the lights, I pressed the gas as hard as I could to give myself space between me and the car full of guys. Much to my surprise, I watched from my rear view mirror as the car behind me swerved into the car of guys, forcing them off the road. I’m not sure exactly what happened because it was so dark. All I could see was the path of both cars’ headlights, and all I cared about was that I NEVER saw the car with my pursuers again. 

After about 15–20 minutes, I was relieved to see a group of cars ahead of me and I settled in among them and tried to calm down. Then, all of a sudden, I felt a car slowly approaching to my left. I thought, “Oh, no!! They’re back!” When the car was exactly beside me, the driver slowed down as if to get my attention. I glanced over, expecting the worse. I will never forget what I saw. It was a white Saab with red interior. The inside of the car seemed to be lit up so that I could see the driver. She was an old woman with short, bushy white hair and looked to be wearing all white. She glanced over at me, gave me a knowing grin, and waved as she pulled away. I was stunned. Then I saw her personalized license plate—“PS103.” I screamed! I had no idea what Psalm 103 said, but I reached for my bible and tried to see. I later read the entire passage. Psalm 103:20 reads, “Bless the Lord, ye his angels, that excel in strength, that do his commandments, hearkening unto the voice of his word.” God is good.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#72 It Was Christ In Them


 Photo by Nicole Tarpoff

It was located in a storefront on the bustling street of the mid-sized township. Yesterday the church boldly opened its one door for free coffee and treats for the old town. And they dared to hope that love and expectant happiness might spread. Of course, the central heat died and couldn’t be fixed on time—which seemed par for the course. Everyone huddled in their coats and sipped on hot drinks. 

The following day, Sunday, the people brought an assortment of small space heaters—which of course blew a few fuses. But after some fiddling with switches and outlets, the place was moderately warm. They prepared for a normal day of worship. A few treats placed lovingly, coffee made pot by pot. Two greeters stationed happily to greet the faithful—the ones who came always: the elderly with canes, single young mothers with rambling and bright children, single people, young couples. This was the day to remake Jesus as King in human souls, as the faithful and tender leader—the One deserving worship. The Hopegiver. But, though the people had planted seeds and watered them, they did not make the plant grow. That was the heart-striking excitement of it all! In through the door that day new families and singles and senior citizens streamed through the door. They were not led by any human but, you could tell, by a Spirit more invested, more compassionate, more joy-filled, more merciful than any human. It was God Himself who gathered them up. The Father who sang into their souls: “Come.” Christ Himself who went ahead and behind. The Alive One, the giver of tingling expectation, was the warmth of that gathered family—strangers and friends together. 

The people scrambled to make extra coffee and find more chairs. Some had to wait to sit down to make sure the new ones had a place. In their hearts, working through love and hands, was the Holy. And joy tumbled and laughed and stood up straight with healthy pride. And it wasn’t them, it was Christ in them: the hope of glory.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#71 I’m So Glad I Listened To God

 Photo by Laura Wilkerson Photography

Several years ago, a mama cow protecting her baby attacked my son and me. We went to the ER for treatment. I went into shock and they thought they lost me, but they didn’t find internal injuries and found only three fractured vertebrae. They said they did not know how we lived through that impact without sustaining internal injuries. They said it was nothing short of a miracle, and sent us home that day.

I had a long road to get better. I knew my son was fine, but I was not! I went to the doctor about a week later and immediately they sent me to surgery to drain the football-sized hematoma. I had it drained about three times. I was referred to orthopedics and they would not do any tests on me, even though I had insurance and had it approved to have an MRI. I knew I had more than three fractures; something wasn’t right! As I left in tears and deep frustration, I thought of my long-time patient who was a neurosurgeon, Dr. E. I called him and asked him what I should do. I knew he was a wonderful Christian man, and if anyone could help me it would be him! He had me in his office the next week. He ran several tests and X-rays and told me I had nine fractured vertebrae and said I was very close to severing my spine because he knew I had gone three months with no treatment! Long story short, he helped me heal. Thank God for him!

About two years after that, my friend had an appointment at the hospital so I took her in. As I looked at the directory in the Medical Plaza, I saw Dr. E. had moved his practice there. As I saw his name I felt God speak to me and felt a great need to go tell him thank you. As I went to his office and asked to speak to him, the receptionist took my name and immediately came out and said, “Come back, he wants to see you.”

I waited about three minutes in his office and he came in with open arms asked how I was doing and wanted to sit and talk. I said, “I know you are busy; I don’t want to keep you, but I felt God told me to come tell you thank you!” He said, “I really needed to hear that today, so thank YOU!” We talked a little longer, gave each other a hug, and I left. I wondered why God had me do that? I thought, well, he said he needed to hear that, so I guess that’s it!

Five days later I was awakened by a phone call from my coworker. Dr. E. had died in a tragic accident. Now I know why God had me tell him thank you, and I’m so glad I listened to him!

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#70. Angel In The Pasture

 Photo by Laura Wilkerson Photography

I am a mother, wife, and dental hygienist in Alabama. My husband Mark and I and our two children Hannah (18) and Landon (12) live in rural North Alabama on Mark’s family’s farm. He has always owned cattle, and loves the hobby.  

In 2006, I worked for a dentist who used to be a veterinarian. He had several horses and we seemed to have a connection immediately. I told him I always wanted a horse but my husband was against it because he thought it would “chase his cows.” I came to work one day and Doc pulled me aside and said, “Debbie, this has been on my mind for a few days now. I know you said your husband said no horses, but I feel like I have the horse for you. So you and Mark come over and look at her; if she doesn’t work out with your cows, you can bring her back.” I said, “Great! I’ll talk to him.” Doc had a nickname for me—he always called me “Sweet Angel.” I went home and Mark agreed to look at the horse. Doc mainly had Haflinger horses and a few quarter horses and then the horse he had in mind for me. My husband agreed that we would take the horse! I asked Doc her name and he was not sure. So he went to ask his wife who wrote it on a Post-it. When he got back in the truck with us he said, “Guess what her name is?” He handed me the Post-it, with the name Angel!! He said, “See, I told you she was meant for you!” 

In April of 2007, I went to the pasture where I met up with Mark, Hannah, and Landon. When I got to them, my husband asked me to check on #34 (a heifer) who had calved that morning. I took Landon with me on the four-wheeler, and went down to the pine thicket, where the cow and calf were. When I was about a half-acre away from the cow, I turned off the four-wheeler and walked a step or two to see if the calf was nursing on the heifer. All was well! I turned to look at my son—and felt the ground shake! I turned around and mama cow was running full speed, head down, and I had nowhere to go! If I moved, she would jump on my son, so I was “quickened” to let her hit me in the back! She threw me around seven to eight times, as I desperately prayed for God’s help. “God, I need you! Please keep my kids safe; let someone hear me!” 

Finally, my husband got to me, and said, “Debbie, please get up, she coming back!” I couldn’t feel anything below my head, and had already accepted that I was going to die. But I didn’t want another woman raising my children! Then Mark said, “The cow has Landon!” I immediately got up and ran over to a tree, and Mark was at a tree about six feet to my right. Our daughter Hannah was told to stay in the barn lot and pray. 

In front of us we saw Landon’s motionless body lying on the ground, and the cow was jumping over him like she was on a trampoline! With every jump, I just knew she was going to stomp him. We were praying for a miracle. Mark ran in and got him out from under her 1,100-pound body and we saw he was alive! But, it wasn’t over, as now the cow was after them! I prayed even harder! 

Just then, out of nowhere, my horse jumped the fence and ran like she was coming out of the heavens, and turned around and bucked that cow in the head several times as it chased her! We were able to get to the other four-wheeler and get to the hospital for help Landon had stitches on his ear and bruising. I had several broken ribs and about eight vertebrae fractures and a football-sized hematoma. It took about two years for me to get better. There are many more details to this story, but one thing I DON’T want to forget—my horse’s name is Angel. And she truly is! I saw God in her that day.

I have always “known” who God was. In fact, I don’t remember ever doubting that He was real. As I grew to an adult, I started diving into His word more and more, to learn who He really was and what my relationship with Him was. I prayed my family would always keep Him number one in everything and strengthen our faith. This miracle that happened to us was a great blessing! It taught our family that God is never late, His timing is perfect, and that we can always trust Him because His ways are not our ways. If we seek Him, He will carry us through. 

I’ve always heard all my life how stubborn I am; I thank God He made me with passion and drive. I could have chosen to let this destroy me and my family by becoming bitter from three years of surgeries, severe pain, and depression. But I didn’t! I was determined to get better. He held me, and I cannot let Him go! It will be 10 years in April, and my faith is stronger than ever. I’m not where I want to be, but I’m sure not where I used to be!

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#69 His Artistry Is Unparalleled

Photo by Ashely Brown, Shining Light Photography 

It is October now but the roses are still blooming. My dad always loved roses, and I can never remember a time when he didn’t have roses planted outside of our kitchen window so we could see them when we sat down to eat or talk at the kitchen table.

Dad is dying now, and I am his caregiver—trying to make this time as comfortable and peaceful as possible. I share his love of roses and have tended them in the months that I’ve been staying with my parents. I try to have a freshly cut rose in the house at all times, taking care to choose just the right one that he would think is the most beautiful.

Dad is getting worse, but he can still make it to the kitchen table. Yesterday, I cut the most beautiful coral rose in full bloom and put it in a crystal vase in front of him on the kitchen table. Even through his pain, his exhaustion, his shortness of breath—there it was . . . AWE! His eyes lit up and he said, “That doesn’t even look real!” For a moment, gone was the ugliness of the cancer, the chest tube, the pain. Forgotten… as he stared with the wonder of a child at the beautiful, perfect rose—God’s creation, God’s gift to him and to me.

A reminder to us that God is good and gives us beautiful, free gifts to enjoy. His artistry is unparalleled. If there is such beauty in this imperfect world, how much more beauty there will be in a perfect heaven. I thank God for the beautiful roses He created. I thank God for my dad and that I can be with him now. I thank God for heaven where there will be no pain, no tears, and unimaginable beauty. 

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#68 Breaking Chains Of Generational Dysfunction

Photo by Ashely Brown, Shining Light Photography 

When you’re little, you’re usually oblivious to all the things that have happened around you or within your family. You don’t understand why some family members don’t come around on holidays anymore or why family fallouts happen.

Growing up, I felt like I was the mediator for my entire family. I saw the brokenness that was passed down from generation to generation, along with the drug use, anxiety, psychological disorders, OCD, verbal abuse, depression, and mental illnesses that flooded my family tree. Suicide completion and attempts made its way into my family on multiple occasions. I loved my family so much and enjoyed holidays spent together. I hated to see so much selfish conflict separate a powerhouse genealogy such as mine, when I had faith in each of their potential.

After many years of watching hate and true dysfunction divide my family into bitterness, I decided I no longer wanted this awful family curse to have an effect on my life or have the possibility of being passed down to my kids. When you make a bold decision to follow Christ and be the chain-breaker, the devil keeps up and does everything in his might to distract you, knock you off track, and feed you with lies.

From seventh grade to the end of my junior year in high school, I struggled with spiritual warfare. The thing is, I didn’t know it was spiritual warfare. It was hard to fight a battle blinded by Satan’s schemes. It was hard to find joy in my trials and confidently take up my cross daily when I didn’t realize I was being attacked by the devil; I thought that all the lies flooding my mind were genetic and I was just a depressed member of the family like everyone else. I fought loneliness, self-worth, and had an identity crisis. It was true that you could be surrounded by people and still feel lonely.

I was bullied in seventh grade, so I felt like a burden to everyone around me. I soon gained interests in things that would only leave me empty and confused. I spent many months hiding things from people because I thought they would think I was a hypocrite and not a true follower of Christ. My life was a sinful cycle of doing certain things to find happiness and then seeking help in the wrong people (who didn’t have my best interests at heart), and then being paranoid that they would let my secrets out and expose my actions. It was exhausting keeping up this persona and realizing that what I thought was “freedom” was actually self-imprisonment that held me in chains and created a life of despair.

My depression got so bad my junior year that I would cry for no reason. I thought, “What is wrong with me? Why am I so crazy? Why can’t all this just stop?” My “hunky dory” personality became altered and I was very short-tempered and unintentional; I hated who I had become. My life changed radically when I hit rock bottom at a NeedToBreathe concert. I was with my friends and my sister, and everyone was having a good time, including myself—and then I had an anxiety attack. I cried in the middle of the concert for reasons I couldn’t explain. I felt dazed and was wondering why an awesome night was being ruined by my craziness. I wanted to go home; I did not want to be there. I wanted the unexplained pain to stop. Redemption abounded when my sister pulled over the car on the way home and prayed over me. She told the devil to flee from me and to stop attacking me so I could live for Christ. She yelled at Satan for all the years of personality and heart deterioration he did in my life.

It wasn’t but maybe a week later and I felt completely fine! I could breathe again. I felt like all my past worries and anxieties and living a counterfeit lifestyle were washed away. I felt restored after just that one prayer. The devil lost his battle with me when he was finally exposed. Even though that time was spent in oceans of manipulation, along with chasing vacant desires, I wouldn’t trade those hardships for anything.

The Lord has promised good to me and He will never steer me the wrong direction. He allowed me to share my testimony with a girl who was battling depression in my small group at church. I prayed over her like my sister did and exposed the devil of his awful attacks. My five-year battle reminds me of Psalm 23 when God left the herd of sheep to go find that single lost one. He didn’t acknowledge my brokenness and leave me there, but picked me up, called me His daughter, and restored my faith. He led me beside still waters and refreshed my soul because He knew I was worthy of redemption. Not only that, but He knew my story would be able to be used for His glory and to have my pain used as a megaphone to announce His faithfulness.

I am not ashamed of what I went through because that’s not who I am. I see my struggles as a place where I was lost, and where God came and found me. It’s not a story of what I’ve done, but about where I was and what HE did for me. It’s been about two years since I struggled with depression and internal mental conflict. I still have problems from time to time—like all humans—but I certainly am not in the darkest of places where I was before. I am now working on two applications to become an R.A. for the resident halls and to become a counselor for a camp in North Carolina so I can love on people and share my testimony with those searching for help. I want to share with them the One who rescued me from the situations I got myself in. His name is Jesus, and He alone can restore and fulfill a rebellious heart that was totally shattered. I truly believe that day by day I am breaking the chains of generational family depression and dysfunction and will use the power of the Holy Spirit to mend my family’s brokenness.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#67 From A Pit Of Darkness To Glorious Life

Photo by Erin E Photography

I had always been the good girl. The one who never went out, got good grades, and loved the Lord. When I came to college I found myself a little lost. I began partying and seeking attention from any boy that walked my way. After drunken nights and horrible mornings, I thought maybe I needed to stop doing this and go back to Jesus. I transferred schools and thought that every temptation and sin would be left behind. I got back into the party scene, and one weekend found myself drugged at a party. I woke up the next morning unclothed, unaware of where I was, and ashamed. I had been raped that night. My world came tumbling down. My heart became hard toward Jesus and I lost sight of who He really was. After months of not dealing with the pain of that night, I finally broke down. My walls crashed to the ground and on the other side was Jesus. My Savior, my Comforter, my Redeemer was there all along. He reminded me that I am loved, sought after, and clean. My brokenness led me to see Jesus in a way I never had before. At the moment of absolute despair, my Savior saved me. I was in a pit of darkness, but by His grace I was brought to glorious life.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#66 Let The Lord Take THE Position

 Photo by Trevor Rapp

I’ve struggled for some time now with taking what I like to call THE position. It’s evident that the Lord has given me His heart of compassion and mercy. But sometimes I overstep my boundaries as a burden carrier. Recently a loved one confessed an addiction to heroin. I was immediately confused. How was I not aware? How has this been hidden?

I began to curse drugs and drug dealers. I was hurt. If you couldn’t guess, my next thought was to walk through the battle of healing with this loved one. I wanted to see restoration. I wanted to see transformation. These hopes aren’t wrong but I began to take ownership, THE position, of this process. For several weeks the Lord taught me what it was like to care from a place of prayer—to intercede and not intervene. With prayer, I was able to weep, bring my doubts, fears, and requests and see the LORD comfort me but also begin to bring EXTRAORDINARY healing.

Healing is real. I learned during this family crisis that God is alive and still healing. Addiction wouldn’t have the authority in this story. My family was able to take a position in this loved one’s life through prayer and was able to discern when to step in and do whatever the Lord asked of us. I’m making this sound easy, but addiction is hard and being free from it is a process. But victory is possible! The Lord is still healing people today. Take your proper position and let the Lord take THE position.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.

#65 A Nebraska Blizzard

 Photo by Chelsea Jo Photography

The snow was blowing sideways and the wind was howling. It was becoming dusk and hard to see. The car’s engine was starting to miss. Being in the middle of this snowstorm was no fun, and we were in the middle of Nebraska heading toward Omaha. And…I was six months pregnant. What were we to do? Lord, help us.

My husband and I have family and friends in Gothenburg, Nebraska, and decided to visit for New Year’s weekend. Friends were going to be there from other cities and it sounded fun. So we went, not knowing that a big storm was on its way to the Plains.

Saturday night, it began lightly snowing and when we went to bed, the wind picked up. The next morning was Sunday. Normally, we would relax, go to church, have lunch, and head home for the three to five hour trip. But when we looked outside, bright sunlight was shining on 10 inches of snow. It was beautiful, like diamonds glistening in the sunlight. Ten inches is a lot of snow and we didn’t know how the highway would be, so we decided to leave right after breakfast. We were driving a rear-wheel, Chevy Caprice and had taken only the minimum amount of clothes, none of which were helpful in storms. We did have coats and gloves, but we hadn’t taken any boots or hats. No extra blankets, flashlights, or food. We had no tire chains and in 1971, no cell phones.

We headed out to the interstate highway. It was smooth sailing from Gothenburg through Kearney. But as we arrived near Grand Island, the snow started falling. We had caught up to the storm. It started out very light but within 30 miles had increased to where we slowed down to 30 mph and started using the windshield wipers. We continued and started seeing cars in the ditches. The roads were snow-packed. The snow blew sideways, hindering our vision. It looked like a transparent veil. We slowed our speed to a crawl.

It was late in the afternoon and starting to get dark. Semi-trucks were disappearing off the road to stay at truck stops. Traffic trickled down to very few cars. It was at this time that our car’s engine started to miss and sounded terrible. My husband said, “Start looking for a hotel or place we can stay, because we are not going to make it home today.”

As we approached exit after exit, we looked for a hotel sign. There was none. I said to my husband, “I think there is a Stuckey’s gas station and quick shop at the Seward/York exit. Maybe we should get off there.”

As we approached the exit, we could see that the exit ramp was completely full of cars and semi-trucks, and with the snow, we couldn’t pass them. The ground blizzard was creating two-to-three-foot drifts. My husband brought our car under the overpass and parked it there. “We’ll just have to walk to Stuckey’s on a direct path because the frontage road will be all drifted in,” he said.

We got out of the car, buttoned up our coats, put on our gloves, and climbed up the hill next to the overpass. Keep in mind that I was six months pregnant and wearing slacks, a loose maternity shirt, a dress coat, and penny-loafer shoes. My husband was wearing slacks, a shirt, a man’s dress coat, and dress shoes. Fortunately they were tie shoes. Not exactly blizzard-worthy outfits.

How did we feel that dark, snowy, windy, and cold night? Anxious. Were we doing the right thing by getting out of the car and walking a half mile to the Stuckey’s? Would we get caught in the snow? Would anyone find us? As we made our way across the field separating the frontage road and Stuckey’s, we abruptly came upon a chicken wire fence. We hadn’t seen it as we walked, due to the snow and wind in our faces. We had to climb the fence!

My husband went over first and helped me over. One shoe dropped off and promptly filled with snow. It was found and we continued walking. Snow filled both shoes as I attempted to plow through the drifts. I said to my husband, “I can’t make it.” He said, “You have to.” I said, “My shoes keep falling off and I have to find them. I’m getting too tired.”

We looked up to see two men walking from the Stuckey’s store toward us. When they got to us, one picked me up. I’m not a little girl, but 5’8” and pregnant with child. The other gentleman took my shoes and my husband, and led us to the store. When we got there, we stepped into the entry, shook the snow off our coats, and turned to thank the gentlemen.


We asked those around us if they had seen the men that were with us and had brought us in. NO ONE HAD SEEN THESE MEN!

Had God sent angels to rescue us? We believe He did. Our fears had been in vain. God’s merciful hand had provided help…and He promised He would never leave or forsake us. In God’s love and kindness He provided His precious Son, Jesus Christ, not only to save us in a snowstorm, but to die for our sins, be resurrected in power so that we might have a relationship with Him, and live with Him eternally in Heaven.

Our time here on earth was not finished. God had other plans for us. Our times are in His hands. As believers, we know we are in His hands and He is molding and perfecting us to be more like Him until He takes us home.

We have gone through many “God sightings” since then and have recognized His hand and are thankful. These trials have grown our faith that He will never leave or forsake us and will be with us always—for which we praise His Name.

A Million God Stories is a Christ-centered ministry which offers a platform for Christians from all streams of Christian faith to give praise for how God has worked in their lives. Christ heals in infinitely creative ways and we acknowledge that His way of helping may differ from person to person.