I’m proud to say this article was first published on The Anchor Gathering, on April 2025. The Anchor Gathering is a Christian organization based in Gig Harbor, WA that supports women facing storms without an anchor. This vibrant tribe shares the hope we have in Jesus to encourage and anchor one another in faith and friendship. Definitely check them out.
I have always loved Spring. Growth, renewal, new beginnings. Each day starts with a promise that change is coming. Spring always brings a promise of transformation, but for our family, this season now holds an even deeper meaning. A year ago, our world in the desert shattered when my beloved husband, Steve, suffered a massive widowmaker heart attack—a moment that should have ended in devastating loss but instead became a testament to God’s mercy and the power of unwavering love and faith.
Note: You may remember that I wrote last Fall about my messy faith, in the article, The Unlikely Believer. I chronicled my spiritual journey—a chaotic mix of stubbornness, skepticism, and divine interventions that feel more like holy plot twists. My faith isn’t neatly packaged with a bow; it’s the kind that stumbles, questions, and occasionally faceplants. But somehow, in the middle of the mess, I’ve found the strength to navigate life’s hardest moments, knowing God isn’t asking for perfection—just presence.
Thursday, March 28, 2024, was a day like any other. At noon I wrapped myself around Steve’s neck and told him how proud I was of him as we were celebrating his year of sobriety. An admirable feat that he had made look easy. Then there was a simple 5-mile bike ride. A routine afternoon. Until it wasn’t. Until the world went silent, save for the desperate pounding of my heart, the steady commands of the 911 operator, and the song Stayin’ Alive. Until I was on my knees, pressing my hands to his chest, willing life back into his body, and whispering, “Stay away from the light, love. Stay with me.”
“Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your GOD; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.” ~Isaiah 41:10
CPR, sirens, First Responders, defibrillators, doctors—a blur of life-saving efforts. A miracle heart doctor, one of the top in the state, just happened to be walking through the ER to leave for the day when my husband was wheeled in.
“He performs wonders that cannot be fathomed, miracles that cannot be counted.” ~ Job 9:10 NIV
Steve coded twenty-three times in the span of an hour. The odds were bleak. I was sitting in a stark white waiting room. Not the one for general population. I was in the “special room.” The one with closed doors, no windows, and thick walls so the sobs and heartbreaking anguish cannot be heard. The one they save for delivering the hard news. The doctor knelt in front of me and let me know that I should call our immediate family and have them fly in. That the odds of him surviving the night were slim to none. They had done everything possible, and the next six hours would determine our future. He was not expected to recover. They could keep him on life support until family arrived to say goodbye.
My go-to verse when I’m faced with overwhelming chaos is to visualize my armor. To sit in quiet prayer and imagine myself putting on my impenetrable suit. In my mind, it looks less like a knight in shining armor and more like the Tin Man—stiff, clunky, but absolutely fortified.
“Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people. Pray also for me, that whenever I speak, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.” ~Ephesians 6:13-20
The doctors prepared us for the worst. He was admitted to the ICU and placed in a medically induced coma, meant to last at least 4-5 days. When I wasn’t sitting by his side praying, I was roaming the Banner hospital corridors. Praying in the meditation garden. Praying…begging in the Chapel. Could He hear me? How? Why? What the heck? Please, please, please, don’t take the only person that has ever loved me so perfectly.
Steve was on full life support and had more machines and tubes than I’ve ever seen. An angel (ICU nurse) was stationed in his room, but it was my job to watch for shivering, twitching, irregular heartbeats, empty IV bags, full catheter bags. His body temperature was lowered purposefully to help his internal organs recover from the lack of oxygen during each of the codes. If we could minimize the damage, there was the possibility of a miracle. The plan was to ease him out of the coma on Monday, five days later. I could only muster the meager prayer I learned from Anne Lamott’s book, Traveling Mercies: “Help me! Help me! Help me! Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” It seemed pitiful at the time, but my messy faith kept me tethered to the One, the only One, who could save my beloved.
But then came Easter Sunday. My plan was to head home for the first time since I arrived, shower, maybe take a nap in a real bed. I even went on a “practice drive” half a mile down the road to get a gas station coffee—an upgrade from hospital coffee. As morning dawned, it was apparent that Jesus and Steve had something special in mind. A true celebration of Easter minus a donkey. Miraculously, Steve came out of his coma. A full day ahead of schedule. He opened his eyes, squeezed my hand, and defied every prognosis spoken over him. Life, restored on the day we celebrate Christ’s resurrection. If that isn’t a divine sign, I don’t know what is.
“I will not die but live, and will proclaim what the Lord has done.” – Psalm 118:17
And oh, what He has done! From Steve’s first breath post-coma to his continued recovery, we’ve seen God’s hand guiding every step. The journey has not been easy—there have been countless sleepless nights, memory gaps, endless doctor appointments and a complete reordering of life as we knew it. But through every moment, we’ve been held.
This year has taught us that miracles don’t always arrive with trumpets; sometimes, they come quietly, in the form of a heartbeat that refuses to stop, in laughter shared over morning coffee, in the strength to face one more day.
To those walking through your own trials—cling to hope. Cling to faith. It doesn’t have to be pretty or perfect. Jesus loves to meet us in the messy parts. He finds us in the lonely hospital corridors, on the Meditation Garden bench, on the bathroom floor when we can no longer face the world and medical systems. Because the same God who rolled away the stone from Christ’s tomb is the God who breathes life into our broken places.
Steve is here. We are here. And as we celebrate Easter once again, we do so with full hearts, knowing that every moment is a gift.
Thank you, Lord, for the gift of this miracle. For the breath in our lungs. For the promise of new life. For guiding us through the heartbreak and the celebrations.
May your hearts be encouraged, dear friends, and may you never stop looking for the miracles—big or small—that are unfolding around you. Happy Easter.
“He is not here; He has risen, just as He said.” – Matthew 28:6
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