God Gave Me a Miracle

For most of my life, I have always felt connected, nonetheless believed in the bible. I grew up in a Christian household, was baptized at three months old, and attended catholic school up until seventh grade. My parents have jumped around from church to church, so for me I struggled to find mine, but after all these years, I can say the The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints is what I believe.

“Miracle; a surprising and welcome event that is not explicable by natural or scientific laws and is therefore considered to be the work of a divine agency”. When people think of miracles, they think of when Moses parted the Red Sea, Jesus turning water into wine, a virgin having baby Jesus, Moroni guiding Joseph Smith to the golden plates and helping him translate them, and so many other biblical events. Not everyone gets a chance to have a miracle performed on them during their lifetime, or even gets to witness one. I am one of the few people that gets to say I did. At the age of nine, my life went downhill. I developed severe PTSD, depression, and anxiety. I was profusely self-harming, being hospitalized for suicide attempts, and had utterly hated life. I believed in God, however I did not want him to exist. I felt as if my emotional pain was so immense, that even after I would die God could not take it away. Everyone, except heavenly father, who had a greater plan for me, knew I was going to die by my own hand. I was awoken in the middle of the night by two strangers, whom snached me from my family and home, telling me not to make a sound so I would not wake anyone, as they drugged me, all against my will. My lifeless body was dragged onto an airplane, myself being so immensely distraught, confused, terrified, and disoriented. I had just turned fifteen. I arrived in the middle of nowhere, and I don’t use that term lightly. From a distance, you could see windmills, mountains, empty acres of land, and a couple small cottages. The icy wind was so heavy, reminding me how far I must have been from my home, sunny California. After my horrific couple hours being transported, I was greeted by another group of girls who were in the same position as me, most of which were stuck deep within Stockholm Syndrome. My soon to be eternal best friend in the whole world, Kate came to me. She told me the truth. “Being here is horrible. This place is good in a way. It helps you recover from the traumas of life”. Full of confusion, I replied; “Trauma?! I just got kidnapped from my home and drugged by them! Is that not trauma enough?” Kate smiled back at me, her response was so perfect that it felt like something God could have said; “Your parents, yourself, your family, and your friends knew you were going to die. That is all of us. This is a treatment center, we are all here due our past traumas, to get better. No one wants your PTSD to kill you. If your parents would have told you where you were going, you would have ran away from home trying to escape it. The transporters supposively tell you, but apparently we were too drugged to remember it”. My heart immediately experienced an immediate 10,000 breaths of relief, knowing I was not in some crazy human trafficking ring. In fact, so much weight was taken off my chest that I could hardly speak. My life had been terrible. At nine my trauma occurred, sweeping my entire life directing away from me. I had stopped eating, dropped out of school, lost half of my friends, and utterly hated myself. For years, I had told no one what had happened, but somehow a few months ago my mom read my mind, and just knew everything. The facility has experienced a lot of difficult cases, but never as difficult as mine. PTSD eventually killed me, but thanks to God, I was revived. Afterwards I felt God’s grace so undeniably intense, curing me from all my issues. For the first time in a while, I decided to pray. I saw no future, no hope, and felt as if I was all alone. God answered my prayer, to the extent in which I never saw my illness again, never had anymore nightmares, furthermore doctors everywhere were stunned by my instant miraculous recovery.

After 444 days locked away, which marked June 8th, 2018, I said goodbye to my dearest friends, and walked away from a huge part of my entire life. With the grace of God, I can overcome everything and anything. Everyone was positive I was going to die, except heavenly father who needs me for a little longer. I can testify in the name of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints that the Godhead exists, and although Jesus is no longer in tangible with us, miracles are still performed, people are cured, and he is still there for us in spirit. Amen.