Miracles Happen

Yesterday, I said that I needed to share the miracles I’ve experienced in my life that (1) proved to me there is a God – never to question his existence again; (2) saving a death of a broken heart and feeling of useless existence – praying for love and a reason to live – he gave me a reason to live.  I will share these miracles with you today.

Up till now, I’ve always been pretty secretive, especially with these miracles.  I’ve only shared these when that special moment comes along and God whispers to your heart, “Share those miracles.  This person needs to hear them.”  So, I’ll carefully and quietly share with that person to try to help them with whatever it is they are battling.

Reading Chapter 7 and maybe even a little earlier, I received another message from God but it was a little louder than a whisper, so now I’m sharing with whomever wants to read this and when I feel I have the outward voice (I’m better with sharing in written form) for sharing.  If you wish to share anything you have read or learned here, please do share it with others.

Miracle #1:  (that I can remember, anyway)

I was 12.  I had a few friends, but mostly I was a loner, as I always have been.  We moved frequently over the years, so I was careful to not become too attached to anyone.  I chose many friends because I felt they needed me.  They were broken, lost souls, troubled because of their parents, abuse, neglect, whatever reason.  They needed a friend.  I was that friend.  Others who did not like these people because of their ways and personalities and reputations, chose to not like me because of my being friends to these outcasts, they called them.  Oh, I had good quality friends, too, sometimes. 

One particular girl – we’ll call her Stacy – wanted to run away from home, for several reasons.  I understood her reasons and could not convince her to stay, so I chose to secretly go with her.  I packed some items I thought we’d need and lowered them out the window where she waited for me.  I lived on the second floor of an apartment building at the time.  Stacy grabbed the bags, untying the bed sheet I had lowered them with, placing them behind the air conditioning unit, so then I could come down.  I tightly tied the sheet to one of the legs under my bed – double knotting, triple knotting – then as I went back to the window to throw the other end out, my mom’s boyfriend (at the time, I called him Terry) walked around the building to see Stacy standing there.  He yelled to her that everyone was looking for her.  She ran in the other direction as fast as she could.  I jumped back so that he would not see me.  He had no idea I was there.

I was so scared for Stacy.  She was a wild girl.  She tried so hard to get the attention of every boy and every man, because she had a very unhealthy relationship with her father.  Her mother, too.  We all handle these things differently.  She was the kind of girl who could have easily been picked up by a bad guy or a car load of bad guys and hurt very badly – could have even been killed. 

I thought maybe she’d call me and I’d run to meet her.  The phone rang, only to hear from different people looking for her.  I claimed she was there, wanting to run away and I could not stop her.  That was all I gave.  Hours passed and I grew more fearful.

The night came and I remember going to bed early.  The fear and worry had drained me.  This is the first time I have memory of myself actually praying.  I asked – no, I begged and I cried and I pleaded with God to help Stacy.  I sort of made a deal with him – something I probably should not have done.  I told him, “If you take good care of Stacy, protect her and let no harm come to her, I give you my word – I will know that you are real and I will never, ever question your existence again.”  I was 12, ok?  I didn’t know any better.  This girl needed him.  I needed to believe in him.

Days passed.  I tried to believe she would be ok.  I tried to believe there was a God.  There had to be more than just this!  This horrible existence!

The phone rang a few days later.  I cannot remember if I answered or Mama answered.  Stacy was on the phone!  She told me that a little while after she ran away, she was walking along the highway, and a car was slowing down, coming up behind her.  The car pulled over to the shoulder of the road a little ways in front of her.  A man got out of the car and approached her, saying, “My name is ______ (I do not remember his name), I am a minister at _______ (I do not remember the church).  My wife is in the car.  Can we take you somewhere safe?  Can we take you home?”  Stacy said that she had run away and could not go home.  The minister and his wife offered for Stacy to stay at their home as long as she needed, as long as she would call home and let them know she was safe. 

She would not come home for several more days.  My heart leaped when she told me what happened.  God happened.  She didn’t say this but I realized it!  Out of all the people and kinds of people who could have stopped.  A minister and his wife?  How blind do I have to be to not see THAT?!  Do you think I ever questioned God again?  Well, I mean – questioned his existence? Never!  I needed to know he was there.  That’s all I needed.  He did answer my prayers.  He heard me. 

He hears you.  He may not always answer right away or give us the answer we think we want, but he does answer in his own way and in his own time.  It took me 29 years to get the answer to the most important prayer of my life – I finally got Hallie.  Sometimes, you have to be patient for a very long time.

I will share my second miracle later today or tomorrow.  😉  Bear with me.  Life happens.

Love ya!  😉


About Carol B Sessums

Writer, Editor, Coffee Addict, Lover of Mountains. Lives to shrink the planet, one story and connection at a time.
This entry was posted in Body, Mind and Soul, Book Study, Self-help, Self-improvement and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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