I couldn’t take it any more; I had really wanted that baby. I had just had another miscarriage, the second one. I didn’t understand. Other women just popped babies out like kittens, but I had only been able to carry one child. I loved him dearly, but I so wanted another, a little girl. Was that so much to ask of God?
I guess having another child then wasn’t really a smart thing; we were barely able to feed the three of us. It just hurt so, the wanting, needy, empty feeling in my soul.
After my miscarriage I lost my job, and there I was, spending my days sitting in an 8 by 20 foot trailer. Trailer Trash, was what they probably called us. There were rats in the walls, I could hear them at night and I saw the trails they left behind. I couldn’t sleep at night. I was afraid one of the rats would run across the bed.
The snow had been coming down for a few days. Everything was covered in a beautiful white blanket. The canal across the pasture from us was half frozen over. I walked out to the mailbox without even bothering to put on a coat. I opened the box. Another bounced check. Oh Lord, what are we doing wrong, I just can’t bear it any more.
I stood there in tears, looking across the pasture, snowy white and so inviting. I started walking. They won’t even miss me, I can just slip under the ice; they won’t even know where I’ve gone till the spring thaw.
I got to the bank of the canal and felt something cold on my neck. I reached up. It was a necklace mom had sent me. I had forgotten I was even wearing it. The necklace said it all: God Loves You.
I turned around and returned to the trailer.
A few phone calls later I was in the hospital: the mental ward. But I knew that was where I belonged for the moment, somewhere safe, where I couldn’t do anything foolish.
I was there for a week and during that time they did a physical and discovered I was in need of a hysterectomy.
The morning they were prepping me for surgery I was talking to my severely depressed roommate.
“I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you that’s different, something special. I want what you have,” she stated.
I didn’t understand at first what I could possibly have that she would want. Then I felt this deep and urgent need to share Christ with her. My heart was hurting so badly I didn’t understand how she could see Him in me, but I knew I had to tell her about Him.
She went into the shower while they finished getting me ready for surgery. I had to pack up everything, because I wouldn’t be returning to the mental ward afterwards. I was ready to be rolled up stairs when she came out.
“Wait, stop for just a moment, please. I just prayed. I asked your God to come into my heart. I feel really clean, for the first time ever, clean from the inside out. I am so glad we were roommates. Thank you.”
We hugged, and shared a few tears, and then they rolled me away.
A few hours later I woke up from surgery, and found myself praying for my former roommate.
I don’t know what happened in her life after that day. I was only able to see her once, after we had both been released, as her husband didn’t want me “bothering them” with all that God stuff.
But we had walked that bridge together that day, the bridge from death to life, and there was no turning back. I marvel today at how God can use us, even when we are at our lowest. We just have to be willing to hear Him, to be willing to walk that bridge, knowing He is walking it with us. We may walk that bridge several times during our lifetime, but He will always be there, walking it with us. He leads us through the valley of the shadow of death. He is the bridge to life.
Note: This is a true story of how God is in charge of all circumstances and how He can use all for good. This happened in 1981, along the Erie Canal. It took a little while to get my girl, but I now have a loving daughter-in-law and three beautiful granddaughters. I am truly blessed!
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