Hello dear friends. It is good to join you all again. This post is going to be very different. I am going to present you a story.
This is my story of a miracle I received from the Lord. God wants me to share it. I was a bit apprehensive at first because it is so personal. But love requires vulnerability. This story demonstrates how much God loves us. This story is just as much for you as it is me. I pray it draws you closer to God and stirs you to to value life, starting with your own. I love you all. God loves you. Thank you for reading.
An accident. That’s all I could think about. It was an accident. Perhaps everything is, including me.
I was curled in a fetal position, rocking back and forth. I had broken down entirely. I had been in a minor car accident the day prior. I was at fault. I just zoned out for a second, then crash! Failure to yield. Thankfully, it was in the downtown area, and we were going at low speeds. The man I crashed into was in an SUV and was not hurt. We were both insured. Everyone I talked to about what happened, including the officer on the scene, said it happens, and it’s okay.
But it was not okay. Nothing was okay. I could have hurt someone. I had been having issues with my focus and concentration, as well as severe depression. I was grateful no one was hurt, but I could not stop hating myself. Perhaps, if it was just the accident that had rocked my life, I could deal. But it was not just the accident. It was losing my job. It was losing financial security and independence. It was worrying over sick family members dealing with maladies ranging from chronic conditions to cancer. It was having went through a very toxic relationship that finally ended this year. I felt like a failure, a loser, and a worthless less-than-human thing on every level.
But I had nothing left in me. I was truly done. My strength, resolve, and hope was dried up like bones in the desert. I hated who I was with such an intense passion, more than I hated this year and everything that had happened. I had to suffer for what I did. I had to recompense for my failures and put an end to things.
As I wept bitterly in my dark apartment in the loneliness of agony, I entered an almost zombified state. I began to chant to myself that I had to end me. I pulled out a pocket knife and just thought what it would feel like to start cutting and bleed out. It was not something I did, even when I had been severely depressed in the past.
I went into the bathroom and curled beside the tub and began to cut, going a bit deeper with the unforgiving blade each time. I ended with three gashes on my arm, being careful not to look at the cuts directly. Somehow I thought not looking would make it easier to go through with this. I bent my arm over and just let myself bleed as I continued to weep and yell aloud how much I hated myself. I was going to bleed and keep cutting until I had no blood left to shed.
As I sat there, I cried out to God. “Why am I still here!” I shouted. “I don’t want this anymore. Take my life. I don’t care. Everyone would be better off if I had never existed.”
Even though I was distressed, an unbelievable calmness and peace continued to persevere through the darkness I had trapped myself in. It was more real than anything I have ever experienced. A still voice told me to get up and treat my wounds. I hadn’t looked at how much blood I had lost yet. I was almost afraid to, even though I wanted to bleed out to death. I peered over and saw a puddle of blood. I felt horrified, exhausted, and lost. I lost more blood than I realized. What was I to do?
I did not want to look at how severe my cuts actually were. I cleaned and covered them just as the voice told me. Cleaning up the blood was next. As I bent down to wipe up the blood, I saw something strange. Something that should not be there. I dipped my hand in the crimson mess and pulled out a long, dark, straight hair—nothing like mine at all. I almost collapsed as the words “Ma-maw” resounded through my mind. That was the endearing name my family had for my grandmother. My dear grandmother had passed years before when I was a kid. Though far in physical distance, she and I were very close. She was the definition of a matriarch, and her memory is always close to my family’s heart.
But how did this hair get here? This single strand of hair here in this blood I shed with such sad intent. Why am I thinking of Ma-maw all of a sudden? I called my aunt. She answered, happy I had called as always. She could hear the distress in my voice as I told her everything. I ended by asking one piercing question. What was Ma-maw’s hair like when she was younger? With grave concern for me saturating her tone, she replied, “It was long, dark, and straight.” Exactly like the hair I still had in my hand!
I broke down and wept and wept as my dear aunt consoled me. After I had calmed down, she said, “Mama was there with you. She wants you to know to not hurt yourself like this and that she loves you.”
Love. That death-defying, wild, persevering, out-of-this-world phenomenon that has captured the human spirit since our beginning. I was so out of touch with love. I cut myself off from the love of God, others, and myself in the name of redeeming myself. How misguided and foolish was I. This one strand of hair brought it all back.
I knew she had been in my apartment. Hugging me and brushing my face like any loving grandma would do. She left that single strand as a tangible reminder that she is very much alive with the Lord and that I need to finish my course on this side of heaven.
That night transformed me. It transformed and reformed my faith, my perspective on life and of eternity. How I see and respond to everything is different. Since then, I have got the best job of my life and am healthier than ever. While I know suffering and disappointments will continue in this earthly life, I know what awaits me when I am finished. Until then, I look up and enjoy the radiance of God and His love for me. A love that death, depression, distance, or time can not stop. A love He shared with me by a visit from Ma-maw.