God Stories
Stories
Sharing Visions
Divine Revelations, Angels, And Holy Coincidences
My father was my life, and in 1989 he and Mom came to live with me, literally to die. We had him until May 31, 1991, when I walked into his room and he looked at me and died. I felt my world go with him. I wanted to lie down beside him and go with him. But, I was only 53 with five grown children and a husband.
The next six months were filled with such unspeakable grief and depression that, at times, I couldn't put one foot in front of another.
The "God stories" started the day after my father died: my mother was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's, and when we walked into the room, she actually put a complete sentence together and asked if we were going to leave her like "her man" did. For the fifteen weeks that she lived after that, she kept telling us "her man" was outside the window or down at the end of the hall. The nurses kept turning her around, but she still saw her man. I would take walks with her to let her see her man.
Then, one day, she told me that her man was leaving. Within a week, she was gone, too. I mentioned that my father was my life. My mother was not. But from the day they walked into the house, my life was filled with "God stories"!
About six months later, I woke from a dream to such a blinding light that I could not open my eyes. But I "saw" my father standing at the foot of some steps, with his arm around my mother, who was standing on his right-hand side. She did not say a word, but it was such a shock to see her standing, since she had just lost her right leg before she died.
He told me not to worry anymore, that he felt wonderful (he had been in horrible pain due to cancer), and not to grieve. He told me that he loved me and to take care. Then he was gone.
The next day, I called my daughters to tell them about my "dream." My oldest daughter replied, "Mom! You won't believe it! I woke up in the middle of the night, and Grandpa was at the foot of the bed! He told me he loves me and not to miss him!"
My youngest daughter, when I told her about the "dream," said, "He came to me, too." That started our journey into so many "God stories" that I ended up in ministry, and now serve as a part-time local pastor in the United Methodist church. I wouldn't trade it for the world!
The next six months were filled with such unspeakable grief and depression that, at times, I couldn't put one foot in front of another.
The "God stories" started the day after my father died: my mother was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's, and when we walked into the room, she actually put a complete sentence together and asked if we were going to leave her like "her man" did. For the fifteen weeks that she lived after that, she kept telling us "her man" was outside the window or down at the end of the hall. The nurses kept turning her around, but she still saw her man. I would take walks with her to let her see her man.
Then, one day, she told me that her man was leaving. Within a week, she was gone, too. I mentioned that my father was my life. My mother was not. But from the day they walked into the house, my life was filled with "God stories"!
About six months later, I woke from a dream to such a blinding light that I could not open my eyes. But I "saw" my father standing at the foot of some steps, with his arm around my mother, who was standing on his right-hand side. She did not say a word, but it was such a shock to see her standing, since she had just lost her right leg before she died.
He told me not to worry anymore, that he felt wonderful (he had been in horrible pain due to cancer), and not to grieve. He told me that he loved me and to take care. Then he was gone.
The next day, I called my daughters to tell them about my "dream." My oldest daughter replied, "Mom! You won't believe it! I woke up in the middle of the night, and Grandpa was at the foot of the bed! He told me he loves me and not to miss him!"
My youngest daughter, when I told her about the "dream," said, "He came to me, too." That started our journey into so many "God stories" that I ended up in ministry, and now serve as a part-time local pastor in the United Methodist church. I wouldn't trade it for the world!
