my story - part two

There is a really popular worship song right now called "No Longer Slaves" by Bethel Music, and it was one of the first songs I heard following that night.  I was in worship at my church, and the band sang this song as I wept.  Because I could say with certainty that I knew what it meant to be rescued by God, I prayed that I would no longer be a slave to fear.  This fear that made its way into my heart that night is something I continue to struggle with, but in those times, I remember how He held me in His arms that night.

Once again, I don't want you to get caught up in "details" and not see God's hand so I will not share everything that happened that night.  I would rather not be the "prayer request" you whisper about behind my back, and to be completely honest, it takes me at least a week to recuperate from having to tell every detail of that night.  Instead I would rather you focus on what I have to focus on and that is His provision from beginning to end.

I told you in part one that night felt like a death of something, a great many things actually.  The death of safety, security, a feeling of home being the safest place on earth, innocence, and quite possibly the death of one part of my life.  That night stands as the cusp between B.C. and A.D. of sorts for me.  I must warn you that this may be disturbing for some.  Everything after this night would be affected in some form by these events.

If you know me at all, you know I love Nehemiah, and if you study Nehemiah you will see these prayers uttered by Nehemiah that are almost like breaths recorded from a constant dialogue between Nehemiah and God.  Since studying Nehemiah, I have began to see prayer like that - not as some formal ritual but just a constant dialogue between He and I.  To be real, it is not often enough that I quiet my own heart to allow His side of the dialogue to be heard.  I thought I would share some of these breaths.

When this man entered the kitchen while I was washing dishes screaming and cursing, he told me that if I didn't do anything stupid, he wouldn't kill me.  I can't explain the calm that came over me - it wasn't immediate but it was effective.  My thoughts went to every cop show I had ever watched, and I had two immediate reactions.  One, "is this way I will die?" and two, "don't do anything to make the crazy man angry." Once again, I had this calm that came over me as my thoughts were running wild.

The man wanted money, and being the 21st century girl, I had little cash.  This meant a frightening change of scenery to my car in search of an ATM that would take my debit card.  As I was driving, my thoughts gave way to prayers.
  "Candace and Brent are getting married in two weeks, please don't let me be the whispered about reason for the extra memorial candle."

He got the money, the driving continued, and it was clear I would not be returning to the beautiful home in the country.  New fear rose up in me as I realized he no longer needed me.
  "Dear God, please don't let me be found mangled in some strange house three counties over.  Please don't let someone have to make that call to my Mama - Mom and Dad - that would kill them."

The night wore on, and the drive took me further from everything familiar.
"Just let him leave me on the side of the road.  I can get home, I can find a phone if he will just leave me on the side of the road."

Finally, after driving through three counties and enduring the night, he had me pull over on the side of the road, told me to get out, that he was leaving and he didn't know how I was going to get home.  He drove away in my car as I walked away on the side of the road.

Friends, let me tell you how God answered every prayer.  It wasn't just any side of the road, it was the parking lot of a church.  Through a yellow pane of stained glass window it looked like there were lights on in the church and there was an SUV in the back parking lot.  I knocked on the door, and I felt relief as the door opened to the sweetest older couple cleaning the church.  The woman told the man to let me in and lock the door.  It felt very much like the arms of Jesus open wide for me.  I was very much alive, in a church, and the woman called Candace to tell her what happened.  I just couldn't be the one to call Mom and Dad because I knew that it would hurt them so much.  Looking back, I realize that I should have called them if for their sanity alone.

I felt this intense relief to be alive while at the same time feeling exposed as my oh-so-private life was dissected by many police officers and detectives from at least 2 counties and the MBI.  In the days to come, it was apparent that my life would never be the same.  I think part of me died that night, but I also believe that God gave life to a new part of me that night.  But... that will come in the final part.


  1. Nicole, your expressive words are beautiful. I love that you are sharing your story. Maybe, one day I will be brave enough to share mine. It's raw and it's truth. Love ya. Xoxo

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  3. Thank you... i think the truth is sometimes the most difficult thing to share. I know it's been the scariest thing I have done.