How God Proved Himself to Me
PART 3
Fast-forward several years. I met a good man, fell in love, and got married. The marriage was going well, but after about six months, I felt something was missing in our 
lives.
“Is it another man?” My husband, Buddy, whom I called Dusty, asked.
“No,” I said, “it’s not another man; you’re the only man for me. I don’t know what it is, but something is missing.” The feeling never left for several months.
While riding around one day, just talking about people who claimed to be “saved.” I asked Buddy, “Do you think there’s anything to that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe we should go to church and check it out?
“Well, maybe someday we will.”
Life went on as usual, except I always felt that something was missing in our lives. The feeling wouldn’t go away.
Nature was coming 
back to life on a beautiful spring day. The tulips were in full bloom & the hyacinths smelled so good as we walked up & knocked on Mom’s door. She had invited us for dinner. Her famous pork steaks were cooking on the stove & smelled so good. A car pulled in and made us all rush to the door. My brother, Rodney, walked in. He had the biggest smile I’d ever seen on him. He looked at Mom and said, “Someone from church came to my door and read from the Bible. Some things I had never heard, and I got saved!”
“Oh, I’m sure!” Mom 
said, “Let’s eat.” She didn’t want to hear any more about it.
“I did that too, years ago,” I said, “but nothing changed.”
My brother’s smile faded.
We shared our meal and visited each other, life continued as usual.
A couple of months later, my mother surprised me with a call. “We went to church today,” she said, “and I got saved.”
My stepdad, Floyd, also claimed to have gotten saved.
“Well, that’s nice,” I told her, hoping she wouldn’t start harping on me about getting saved.
But she did. “Hey, Wanda,” she continued to ask, “How about coming to church with us on Sunday? “
Or, “Oh, Wanda, you have to hear this preacher, he’s terrific.”
How can a preacher be terrific? I thought.
‘No,” my usual answer, “I don’t have anything to wear.”
When she told me they started giving money to the church, I was mad. “Why are you giving money to the church? You hardly have 
enough to live on for yourselves?” But she continued to give. I had to admit, there was something different about her. She had a new peace and joy in her life. But Buddy and I didn’t expect to find inner peace from her source of comfort. However, several months later, our attitudes changed drastically.
I found out that I was pregnant again. We were both overjoyed—a little brother or sister for Lynn. The pregnancy was rough; having to take medications and spend my last few weeks in bed so I wouldn’t lose the baby. Then, 5 weeks before my due date, I went into labor. They couldn’t stop the contractions.
“Push, push,” I heard, and our tiny baby girl entered this world. But I didn’t hear the sound that all mothers long to hear: my baby’s first cry. She wasn’t breathing. Doctors rushed around. I nervously listened for any sound. They weren’t telling me anything. I caught a quick glimpse of her as the nurses whisked her away. She looked blue. Later, when my doctor came in, he gave us some sad news,
“Your daughter has hyaline membrane disease; her lungs haven’t fully developed. We don’t know if she’ll make it through the night. My heart almost 
stopped when death cast a shadow on our newborn daughter. I remembered that’s how President Kennedy’s baby died.
The doctor ordered Buddy home.
“I think you both need a little sleep. Come back in the morning; we’ll know more then.”
Before Buddy left, we held hands, walked down, and looked at our baby girl. She looked so tiny and weak in that little incubator. “Please, God, watch over our baby. Breathe life into her small lungs. Let our little girl live, and we’ll start attending church.”
I remember what Buddy’s Mother used to say, “God speaks to you, but you have to listen. If you don’t listen when God speaks in a still, small voice, He’ll speak louder until He gets your attention.”
Is God trying to get our attention? I wondered.
Buddy & I held hands and, occasionally, our breath as we prayed before he left.
Coming soon: Part 4 of 7