God's still here

The night my wife and I thought we lost our baby girl was both one of the worst and best nights of our lives. It was the worst for the obvious reason—the fear that we had lost our child. But in that same night, we also saw God’s power firsthand and were given the chance to exercise our faith in a way we never had before.

My wife had struggled with carrying pregnancies to full term. She had suffered four miscarriages, the most recent just two years before we conceived our daughter. Needless to say, the weight of that history loomed over us, and worry became a constant presence. I understood her fear completely, which is why one evening, when she began experiencing cramping, we didn’t hesitate. Some cramping is normal in early pregnancy, but given our past, we weren’t willing to take any chances.

We rushed to the hospital, got checked in, and braced ourselves for whatever news awaited us. The first question they asked was how many weeks along she was. We had already visited the OB-GYN the week before and had been told she was five weeks pregnant. But now, the hospital staff told us she was only measuring at four to five weeks, meaning the baby wasn’t progressing. Then came the blow that nearly broke us—they checked her HCG levels and said they were dropping.

The weight of those words crashed over us like a dark omen, threatening to pull us under. We knew what it meant. My wife was miscarrying. The doctors prepared us for what was coming, telling her she would pass the fetus overnight and prescribing medication for the pain. We were devastated.

But in the midst of that devastation, something else stirred—hope.

Despite myself, I held onto that hope, even when my wife wasn’t ready to hear it. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I was ready to say it, either. We cried. We argued. And then we prayed. In the end, we decided to leave everything in God’s hands. Whatever was going to happen, we would trust in His plan. That night, we went to bed not knowing what morning would bring.

When we woke up, the first thing I asked my wife was whether she had passed anything. The doctors had told her it would happen overnight. But nothing had happened. No bleeding. No pain. No sign of miscarriage. We were confused but hopeful. Desperate for answers, we decided to drive home and visit our local hospital, a smaller facility with a more hands-on approach.

It was a long, prayer-filled hour-and-a-half drive. When we arrived, my wife went in alone, needing a moment to process everything without me hovering. I stayed in the car, talking to God, still clinging to that thread of faith. Then my phone rang. It was my wife.

Her voice held something I hadn’t heard in a while—excitement.

Not only were they going to check her HCG levels, but by some miracle, they had just hired a sonographer, and it was her first day. That meant my wife would be getting an ultrasound—something we hadn’t expected at all. We both thanked God over the phone and waited.

An hour later, my wife walked out of the hospital with a radiant smile I will never forget. Our baby was perfectly fine.

We knew right then and there that we had to honor this moment—this faith that had carried us through the darkest night. And so, when it came time to name our daughter, we made sure that somewhere in her name was "Faith"—a reminder of the unshakable belief that God had held her in His hands the whole time.



The second time God tested and strengthened our faith, He took us deeper than we ever thought possible. We lost everything—our home, our car—but in the end, He restored it all and more.

It started when my wife and I decided to move to the city, hoping for better opportunities. Looking back, we both regretted that decision. We didn’t leave our small town on the best of terms, and life in the city was not what we expected. Three months in, I lost my job. I searched everywhere for work, but when God closes a door, no amount of effort can force it open. That didn’t mean we stopped trying. My wife and I did everything we could—she Ubered and DoorDashed while pregnant with our son, and I even donated plasma to make ends meet.

Despite our best efforts, within six months, we were $3,000 behind on rent. No one could help us. I remember looking at my wife and telling her something that had settled deep in my heart: "God told me that when we get out of this, we won’t be able to thank anyone but Him—because He’s the one who’s going to bring us through."

Almost immediately after saying that, our church called. They offered to put us in a hotel until my unemployment benefits kicked in—benefits I had been waiting for over three months to receive. My wife had almost given up hope that I would ever get them, but God had been holding that money until the moment we truly needed it. When it finally came through, it was over $1,500—just enough to help us start over.

We took that money and found a hotel back home that accepted biweekly payments. Then, as if to confirm that we were right where we needed to be, I got rehired at my old job at the nursing home—this time with a higher wage. We had gone from being jobless and homeless to having a roof over our heads and stable income.

God had humbled us. Before, we had not been good stewards of His blessings, but now, everything He gave us, we handled with care and gratitude. Our hotel room was tiny—just enough space for five people, including a newborn—but we treated it like a mansion.

Another lesson God taught us in that season was patience. We had been approved for a housing unit, but it took four months before the paperwork was finalized for us to move in. When we were finally given a move-in date, we faced another hurdle—the rent, which had been quoted at $895, had increased to $1,500. But by then, God had already prepared us. We had been paying over $4,000 a month just to stay in hotels, so suddenly, $1,500 didn’t seem so impossible.

Just when we thought the trials were over, another challenge came. Because of everything we had gone through, I had fallen behind on our car note. Two weeks after moving into our new home, the car was repossessed—for being just $0.10 short on a payment. We struggled for another four months, renting cars, borrowing one from family (which broke down on us), and sometimes walking or biking to work and the store. But through that hardship, we learned to truly appreciate the value of a car.

Then, in God’s perfect timing, He provided. We finally got another vehicle—bigger, more reliable, and costing only $50 a month.

Through it all, we learned to appreciate what God does for us—not just the blessings but also the lessons. My hope is that someone reading this won’t have to go through what we did to learn to be humble and grateful. When you walk with God and commit to following Christ, He will work on you—strengthening you, refining you, and making you better. The goal is to become more Christ-like, and that process isn’t easy.

So, rejoice even in the hard moments, because they are for your betterment. God will see you through and bless you abundantly. That’s what He did for me, and I am no more special than anyone else.

I’ll leave you with this: no matter what you’re going through, remember—the battle is not yours. It belongs to the Lord.


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