Once upon a time, there lived a happy young couple, friends of ours, who had two adorable little girls, aged five and three. Their dad was a successful business man, and their mom was a pretty young housewife with a radiant smile. The couple took their little girls to Sunday School and church every Sunday, and lived exemplary lives.
One day, as the little family was running errands and doing some Saturday shopping, they came to a stoplight. Just as their car stopped, a drunk driver rear-ended them, sending one little girl through the front windshield and the other through a back seat window. Both children died on impact, leaving the young couple in a state of utter shock and disbelief.
After the funerals, the couple attended the court session for the young man who was responsible for killing their little girls. But because they were Christians, they openly forgave the man and he walked free.
Unlike many who suffer tragic loss and live in never-ending grief, this couple chose to accept the deaths of their two daughters and trusted God to work His will for them. And He did.
I believe it was only about two years after the tragedy that a son was born to them, and later, another son was added to their family. Since we moved away, that was the last update I had on this couple.
The way they handled the horrible incident has stayed with me through the years. When I hear of gunmen ending peoples lives so senselessly as in this past week in Oregon and Connecticut, I pray that those who mourn will be comforted. Not only do I pray for God to comfort them, I pray they will seek God's perfect will for their lives as they have to move on.
I've been criticized for sharing my faith on occasion in the Jillian Bradley Mysteries, but when I've seen God's hand in the lives of people I know, seen the way He answers prayer and meets our needs, I cannot help but share about His wonderful love.
Thanks for letting me share this week. And thank you for continued prayer for the friends and families who lost their loved ones.
If you have similar stories of families conquering grief, I'd love to hear them.
~Nancy Jill
By MICKI PELUSO
"And the Whippoorwill Sang" is a deathbed promise I made to my
lost child. When she was struck down by a drunk driver, her spinal cord
severed, and left in a semi-coma for ten of the longest days of our
lives, I told her I would make sure the world knew who and what she was;
so that her death would not be in vain. As close as our large family
was, when Noelle died, we all went our separate ways, unable to comfort
each other. One of her sisters became bulimic and suicidal, a brother
raced cars to tempt God to take him as well, her other brother had to be
constantly
pulled back from going after the repeated offender drunk driver who
caused our world to dim without Noelle’s presence. Her oldest sister
could not handle our great sorrow and stayed away on her own, while her
youngest sister was plagued with anxiety and panic attacks at the age of
eleven. Her father did not speak her name for five years and barely
ever after that. As for me, I wrote. I could not speak or share so I
wrote. The short story of the book was published by Victimology; an
International Magazine. I wrote slice of life stories about her and all
the kids for my new local daily newspaper, which led to a career in
Journalism. I started the book about four years after her death, but
life stepped in and I had to put it aside for years. When I was able to
continue it, I realized the block when I came to the part before she
died. My kids, many of whom also had memory loss, helped as we forced
ourselves to remember—that and a deadline from my publisher finally got
the book done.
TO READ MORE OF THIS FASCINATING INTERVIEW PLEASE VISIT US ON "QUEEN OF AFTERNOON TEA." MICKI PELUSO'S STORY WILL TOUCH YOUR HEART.
She's giving away a free signed copy of her book. Please see the interview for details. Have a great week, dear friends.
~Nancy Jill
The young police officer's funeral was yesterday. Killed in the line of duty. A young college girl, an acquaintance of my daughter, died in a drunk driving accident earlier in the week. Both deaths were sobering. I felt pity for their families. I cried tears of sadness. However, I shed other tears this week. Tears of happiness for that same daughter, who secured the interior design internship she needed to graduate from college. It was a struggle, but she prayed and knocked on doors until one opened. Tears. Tears of happiness. Tears of sadness. We're not human without them.
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