Headed into the path of danger

My wife, Donnie, was about eight months pregnant when we went to Ocean Springs, Mississippi, to spend a couple of days with her mom and dad. Late one afternoon she and I were out for a walk and came up to Highway 90, an always busy main artery.

Donnie said, “Instead of crossing the highway, why don’t we just walk down the shoulder for a little ways?” I started to do it initially, but then a strong feeling came over me and warned me not to. I remembered hearing of incidents where people would walk beside busy highways and vehicles would sometimes wreck and careen down the shoulders and hit them. I suggested that we cross over and instead walk in a ball field on the other side.

We waited for the traffic to momentarily ease and made our way across the road. Before we had even reached the ball field, we heard a crash and looked up to see two vehicles colliding. They both left the road and slid down the shoulders for a long way—right where we would have been walking. A woman had passed another car and pulled in too quickly in front of it. The collision caused her car to flip upside down and her car quit sliding when it hit a light pole. We found out later that she died from her injuries.

I went out later to look at the scene again. It was then that I noticed a net wire fence alongside the highway in that area and the realization hit me: there was no way we could have escaped those cars with Donnie being so far along with her pregnancy and unable to quickly get out of their way.

I shudder to think what would have happened if I had ignored God’s hand on my heart. I feel pretty certain that we would both have been killed or seriously injured. And at the very least, Donnie’s unborn baby, Toni, couldn’t have survived.

There’s a postscript to this story. Toni grew up to become a talented, successful singer whose Christian music and ministry has blessed many. Her albums include “You’ll Never Walk Alone,” and “Whatever It Takes,” both on the Winlear Music label.


Hilton H.
Warner Robbins, GA

Source: touchedbythehandofgod.com

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Swallowed by a Sinkhole

In just a few seconds, a carefree hiking trip on the sand dunes of Mount Baldy, Indiana turned into a nightmare. Greg Woessner and his friend Keith walked along the top of the dune. Greg’s son Nathan and Keith’s son Collin were behind them.

“They were playing around, running around, up and down the hill,” remembers Greg. “We heard Collin screaming and hollering, that Nathan had fallen in a hole.”

“We quickly ran down there, and found the hole that he was in,” adds Keith. “And we were able to talk to him.”
Greg and Keith told Collin to run down the hill and call 911. Keith’s wife Rachel made the call.

Operator: “9-1-1.”
Rachel:  “Yes, I’m at the Mt. Baldy beach, and my friend’s son, he got stuck in
a sand dune and he’s like under the sand and we can’t get him out.”
Rachel: “My husband and his dad are trying to dig him out.”
Operator: “OK, we get it, we've got them on the way, OK?”
Rachel: “OK, thank you.”

 “He sounded so close,” says Greg. “You couldn't see him. It was so dark. Keeping him calm was my first thing. He was saying he was scared.”

“I crawled down in the hole,” says Keith, “and Greg held my ankles, and I tried to reach for him, and couldn't get him at all.”

Then the hole collapsed. Six-year-old Nathan was buried alive under 11 feet of sand.

“That’s when Faith made her way up the hill,” says Greg.

“They were telling me that Nathan was under there, and I just came apart,” remembers Faith. “I started crying, and praying, and digging. Everything else around me was such a blur. And I was having these visions in my head of him down there, and he’s got sand in his face and in his mouth, and he can’t breathe. And I remember begging God to just be with him, and to give him a pocket of air so that he could breathe, and to hold him, and to please be with him.”

Other vacationers and bystanders helped them dig by hand, but the giant dune was a relentless foe. Everyone kept digging, but the sand continued to cave in. Within 15 minutes, firefighters, police, and park rangers joined the effort. Their shovels helped, but they were still losing the battle. Finally, someone showed up with a backhoe.

“And it wasn't until then did they really start moving a lot of sand,” says Greg. “But we've already, you got 40, 50 guys digging by hand for probably and hour and a half to two hours.

“We were fearing the worst,” says Faith. “We really were. We were still hoping, but it had been so long.”

The police persuaded Greg and Faith to take a break after three hours of nonstop digging. Their friend Keith kept on going.

“After about the 5th or 6th collapse, I pretty much exhausted myself, and I knew I had to stop or I wasn't going to make it myself,” says Keith.

But the fight to rescue Nathan continued. They used long poles to probe the sand. If an area got the “all clear” sign, they would bring in the heavy equipment. Nearly four hours into the search, a local firefighter found him.

“They had already switched it from a “rescue” to a “recovery” by the time they found him,” says Faith. “The coroner was there, on site. They located his head, and then they switched from using shovels, and they were using their hands.”

“…and get right under his arm,” says Greg. “And from there, he was able to pull him right up out of the sand. It was a lifeless limp body, that he held like his son, and it just reminded him of his son.”

“They checked again, and he wasn’t breathing, and there wasn’t any pulse, so essentially at that time, he was not alive,” says Faith.

Nathan had a ¼ mile trip in the lifeguard truck to the ambulance, where he started to breathe again. He was taken to the medical center in Michigan City. His parents followed him to the ER, and all they could do was wait and pray.

“Then buddy came in, one of the EMTs,” says Faith, “And he sat down in front of me and said, ‘He’s alive.’ I remember turning to look at Greg and I said, ‘He heard us. He really heard us. He answered our prayers.’ I was so happy.”

They had to remove sand from his lungs and throat, and his head was injured during the digging. And Nathan had been deprived of oxygen to his brain for nearly four hours. Brain damage was a major concern, but doctors determined that Nathan was perfectly fine.

“His progress moved along so well, that Wednesday, they ended up taking out the breathing tube, and [he was] able to get a lot of the stuff out himself, as far as any of the debris and stuff in his lungs.”

Nathan doesn't remember anything about the sinkhole that almost took his life. He doesn't remember his amazing recovery. But he does know about God. When asked what his favorite Bible story is, he quickly thought of the story of David and Goliath.

“It’s my favorite story because he ‘fighted’ the giant, and I like it,” says Nathan, “Because he falls down to the ground, and he’s like a really big giant, and a little tiny kid.”

“This couldn't be anything but a miracle,” says Faith. “This couldn't by anything but God. There’s no way that you can take God out of this equation. He was buried in cold, wet sand for four hours. Everybody believed that he was gone. And God proved to everybody that he’s not. “I’m God. I can still do amazing things.” And he did. 

Source: 

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A Hug & Lightening Bolt

A Hug 
By: Anonymous

When I was a kid, my wornderfully loving mother and step father had been drinking and at age 11-12 it got much worse. My parents threw wild parties every weekend and drank during the week. Rarely did it affect their work. So even though I learned about alcoholism in school, I doubted they had a real problem. Until my father became verbally abusive and then progressed into the beginnings of physical abuse. 

I had only been to church a few times in my life and didn't know much about God. But, I prayed every night and cried myself to sleep with Jesus comforting me. One night I actually felt Jesus holding me. It was so real, I cried happy tears and laid there for hours not wanting to fall asleep for fear that I'd never feel Jesus hugging me again. 

Lightning Bolt

I started reading the bible. When my father started becoming physically abusive, I started praying this prayer, "God, I don't care if you have to bring him within an inch of his life, please make my father stop drinking and be the good man I know he is inside." I prayed that for over a year until one night Dad did stop drinking. 

The whole family was in my parents' room because they were having a fight. When he raised his hand to hit my mom, it looked like a real lightning bolt hit his hand from above and traveled down his body. We all saw it except my mother who was covering her face. My father went down on his knees and said to call 911. Dad had a very bad heart attack that night.  

Dad made a full recovery and never drank another drop of alcohol the rest of his life! I will never forget a few months later (maybe longer) sitting in a small church holding my best friend's hand on one side and my sister's hand on the other side crying happy tears together. My father was up front becoming a member of the church. I will never forget what he said, "For years, I let alcohol be my God and let me tell you, it did nothing for me. Now I have the real thing, the true God." My father did a children's sermon during church once a month and was very involved for years until he past away three years ago. 

I recently told my mother about my prayer for Dad years ago and she cried, agreeing that God answers prayers.

 Source: www.ainglkiss.com

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'Heaven Is for Real' Trailer: Boy Returns From the Afterlife (Video)

"Heaven Is For Real"

The film based on the Christian book stars Greg Kinnear and hits theaters next Easter.

 A little boy sees Heaven and lives to tell about it in the first trailer for Heaven Is for Real.
The film, which is billed as based on a true story, centers on a family whose son survives a life-threatening surgery and begins speaking of having met people in the afterlife -- among them,
 a young  version of his long-dead great grandfather.

The film is based on the best-selling book, by Christian pastorTodd Burpo and Lynn Vincent,
 that tells what happened after Burpo's son had a near-death experience and began telling tales
 of visiting heaven.

The Sony Pictures film stars Greg Kinnear, Kelly Reilly, Thomas Haden Church and
 child actor Connor Corum.

Heaven Is for Real, directed by Randall Wallace, hits theaters next Easter on April 16, 2014.

• GREG KINNEAR
• HEAVEN IS FOR REAL

Source: Hollywoodreporter.com

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The red sweater

I was traveling merrily down memory lane the other day as I flipped randomly through a box of old family photos. My smile started to grow as my thoughts were suddenly overflowing with familiar faces and places of long ago. 

As I leaned over to pick up another bunch of photos, a single picture fell to the floor that stirred both my memory and soul. It was a faded school picture of my son Harley wearing an unforgettable red sweater.

Harley was about nine when that picture was taken. He was a very proper and conscientious dresser for his age, a trait he inherited from his father.

One of his beloved articles of clothing was a red sweater, which Harley so wanted to wear to school for picture day. But at dinner the night before the pictures were to be taken, he was very upset because he had somehow lost this precious sweater.

I recommended that we should take time and pray to God asking for His help with this emergency situation.

My husband was a bus driver and had been absent that night from the family dinner as he had to work the late shift.  When he got off work that evening another driver handed my husband a bag of clothing.

This driver had a son about the same size as, you guessed it, Harley. God at work, perhaps?

I searched through this bag of clothes like it was a treasure chest full of precious jewels. Then the miracle happened. There in the bag of clothes was a beautiful red sweater almost identical to the one Harley had lost.
 
This red sweater was a miracle from God.

The following morning Harley was beside himself as he spied the red sweater lying on the dining room table. His face was aglow as he announced for all to hear that God sure does answer prayer, doesn't He!

My prayer for my son over these many years since his proclamation about the red sweater is that the faith he had as a child will continue to mature and guide his life as he grows older.


Deane T.
Glendale, CA

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A Lesson for a Lifetime

When I arrived at 6 a.m. in the large hospital kitchen, Rose was already checking name tags on the trays against the patient roster. Stainless steel shelves held rows of breakfast trays which we would soon be serving.

"Hi, I'm Janet." I tried to sound cheerful, although I already knew Rose's reputation for being impossible to work with. "I'm scheduled to work with you this week."

Rose, a middle-aged woman with graying hair, stopped what she was doing and peered over her reading glasses. I could tell from her expression she wasn't pleased to see a student worker.

"What do you want me to do? Start the coffee?"

Rose sullenly nodded and went back to checking name tags.

I filled the 40-cup pot with cold water and began making the coffee when Rose gruffly snapped, "That's not the way to make coffee." She stepped in and took over.

"I was just doing it the way our supervisor showed us to do it," I said in astonishment.

"The patients like the coffee better the way I do it," she replied curtly.

Nothing I did pleased her. All morning her eagle eyes missed nothing and her sharp words stung. She literally trailed me around the kitchen.

Later, after breakfast had been served and the dishes had been washed, I set up my share of trays for the next meal. Then I busied myself cleaning the sink. Certainly Rose couldn't criticize the way I did that.

When I turned around, there stood Rose, rearranging all of the trays I had just set up!

Totally exhausted, I trudged the six blocks home from the University of Minnesota Hospital late that June afternoon. As a third year university student working my way through school, I had never before encountered anyone like Rose.

Fighting back tears, I wrestled with my dilemma alone in my room. "Lord, what do you want me to do? I can't take much more of Rose."

I turned the possibilities over in my mind. Should I see if my supervisor would switch me to work with someone else? Scheduling was fairly flexible. On the other hand, I didn't want to be a quitter. I knew my older co-workers were watching to see if my actions matched my words.

The answer to my prayer caught me completely by surprise -- I needed to love Rose.

Love her? No way! Tolerate, yes, but loving her was impossible.

"Lord, I can't love Rose. You'll have to do it through me."

Working with Rose the next morning, I ignored the barbs thrown in my direction and did things Rose's way as much as possible to avoid friction. As I worked, I silently began to surround Rose with a warm blanket of prayers. "Lord, help me love Rose. Lord, bless Rose."

Over the next few days an amazing thing began to happen. As I prayed for this irritating woman, my focus shifted from what she was doing to me, and I started seeing Rose as the hurting person she was. The icy tension began to melt away.

Throughout the rest of the summer, we had numerous opportunities to work together. Each time she seemed genuinely happy to see me. As I worked with this lonely woman, I listened to her--something no one else had done.

I learned that she was burdened by elderly parents who needed her care, her own health problems, and an alcoholic husband she was thinking of leaving.

The days slipped by quickly as I finished the last several weeks of my summer job. Leaves were starting to turn yellow and red, and there was a cool, crispness in the air. I soon would be returning as a full-time university student.

One day, while I was working alone in one of the hospital kitchens, Rose entered the room. Instead of her blue uniform, she was wearing street clothes.

I looked at her in surprise. "Aren't you working today?"

"I got me another job and won't be working here no more," she said as she walked over and gave me a quick hug. "I just came to say good-bye." Then she turned abruptly and walked out the door.

Although I never saw Rose again, I still remember her vividly. That summer I learned a lesson I've never forgotten. The world is full of people like Rose--irritating, demanding, unlovable - yet hurting inside. I've found that love is the best way to turn an enemy into a friend.

Source: Skywriting.net

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The Doll and a White Rose

I hurried into the local department store to grab some last minute Christmas gifts. I looked at all the people and grumbled to myself. I would be in here forever and I just had so much to do. Christmas was beginning to become such a drag. I kind of wished that I could just sleep through Christmas. But I hurried the best I could through all the people to the toy department. Once again I kind of mumbled to myself at the prices of all these toys.

And wondered if the grand-kids would even play with them. I found myself in the doll aisle. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little boy about 5 holding a lovely doll. He kept touching her hair and he held her so gently. I could not seem to help myself. I just kept looking over at the little boy and wondered who the doll was for. I watched him turn to a woman and he called his aunt by name and said, "Are you sure I don't have enough money?". She replied a bit impatiently, "You know that you don't have enough money for it."

The aunt told the little boy not to go anywhere, that she had to go get some other things and would be back in a few minutes. And then she left the aisle. The boy continued to hold the doll. After a bit I asked the boy who the doll was for. He said, "It is the doll my sister wanted so badly for Christmas. She just knew that Santa would bring it". I told him that maybe Santa was going to bring it. He said, "No, Santa can't go where my sister is...I have to give the doll to my Mamma to take to her". I asked him where his sister was. He looked at me with the saddest eyes and said, "She has gone to be with Jesus.

My Daddy says that Mamma is going to have to go be with her." My heart nearly stopped beating. Then the boy looked at me again and said, "I told my Daddy to tell Mamma not to go yet. I told him to tell her to wait till I got back from the store." Then he asked me if I wanted to see his picture. I told him I would love to. He pulled out some pictures he'd had taken at the front of the store.

He said, "I want my Mamma to take this with her so she won't ever forget me. I love my Mamma so very much and I wish she did not have to leave me. But Daddy says she will need to be with my sister." I saw that the little boy had lowered his head and had grown so very quiet.

While he was not looking I reached into my purse and pulled out a handful of bills. I asked the little boy, "Shall we count that money one more time?". He grew excited and said, "Yes, I just know it has to be enough." So I slipped my money in with his and we began to count it. Of course it was plenty for the doll. He softly said, "Thank you Jesus for giving me enough money." Then the boy said, "I just asked Jesus to give me enough money to buy this doll so Mamma can take it with her to give to my sister. And he heard my prayer. I wanted to ask him for enough to buy my Mamma a white rose, but I didn't ask him, but he gave me enough to buy the doll and a rose for my Mamma.

She loves white roses so very, very much." In a few minutes the aunt came back and I wheeled my cart away. I could not keep from thinking about he little boy as I finished my shopping In a totally different spirit than when I had started. And I kept remembering a story I had seen in the newspaper several days earlier about a drunk driver hitting a car and killing a little girl and the Mother was in serious condition. The family was deciding on whether to remove the life support. Now surely this little boy did not belong with that story.

Two days later I read in the paper that the family had disconnected the life support and the young woman had died. I could not forget the little boy and just kept wondering if the two were somehow connected. Later that day, I could not help myself and I went out and bought some white roses and took them to the funeral home where the young mother was.

And there she was holding a lovely white rose, the beautiful doll, and the picture of the little boy in the store. I left there in tears, my life changed forever. The love that little boy had for his little sister and his mother was overwhelming. And in a split second a drunk driver had ripped the life of that little boy to pieces.

Source: skywriting.net

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GOD'S UNDER THE BED

My brother Kevin thinks God lives under his bed.  At least that's what I heard him say one night.  He was praying out loud in his dark bedroom, and I stopped outside his closed door to listen.  "Are you there, God?" he said.  "Where are you?  Oh, I see.  Under the bed."  I giggled softly and tiptoed off to my own room.

Kevin's unique perspectives are often a source of amusement.  But that night something else lingered long after the humor.  I realized for the first time the very different world Kevin lives in.  He was born 30 years ago, mentally disabled as a result of difficulties during labor.  Apart from his size (he's 6'2"), there are few ways in which he is an adult.  He reasons and communicates with the capabilities of a 7 year old, and he always will.  He will probably always believe that God lives under his bed, that Santa Claus is the one who fills the space under our tree every Christmas, and that airplanes stay up in the sky because angels carry them. 

I remember wondering if Kevin realizes he is different.  Is he ever dissatisfied with his monotonous life?  Up before dawn each day, off to work at a workshop for the disabled, home to walk our cocker spaniel, returning to eat his favorite macaroni-and-cheese for dinner, and later to bed.  The only variation in the entire scheme are laundry days, when he hovers excitedly over the washing machine like a mother with her newborn child. 

He does not seem dissatisfied.  He lopes out to the bus every morning at 7:05 eager for a day of simple work.  He wrings his hands excitedly while the water boils on the stove before dinner, and he stays up late twice a week to gather our dirty laundry for his next day's laundry chores.  And Saturdays -- oh, the bliss of Saturdays!  That's the day my dad takes Kevin to the airport to have a soft drink, watch the planes land, and speculate loudly on the destination of each passenger inside.  "That one's goin' to Chi-car-go!" Kevin shouts as he claps his hands.  His anticipation is so great he can hardly sleep on Friday nights.

I don't think Kevin knows anything exists outside his world of daily rituals and weekend field trips.  He doesn't know what it means to be discontent.  His life is simple.  He will never know the entanglements of wealth or power, and he does not care what brand of clothing he wears or what kind of food he eats.  He recognizes no differences in people, treating each person as an equal and a friend.  His needs have always been met, and he never worries that one day they may not be. 

His hands are diligent.  Kevin is never so happy as when he is working.  When he  unloads the dishwasher or vacuums the carpet, his heart is completely in it.  He does not shrink from a job when it is begun, and he does not leave a job until it is finished.  But when his tasks are done, Kevin knows how to relax.  He is not obsessed with his work or the work of others.

His heart is pure.  He still believes everyone tells the truth, promises must be kept, and when you are wrong, you apologize instead of argue.  Free from pride and  unconcerned with appearances, Kevin is not afraid to cry when he is hurt, angry or sorry.  He is always transparent, always sincere. 

And he trusts God.  Not confined by intellectual reasoning, when he comes to Christ, he comes as a child.  Kevin seems to know God -- to really be friends with Him in a way that is difficult for an "educated" person to grasp.  God seems like his closest companion.

In my moments of doubt and frustrations with my Christianity, I envy the security Kevin has in his simple faith.  It is then that I am most willing to admit that he has some divine knowledge that rises above my mortal questions.  It is then I realize that perhaps he is not the one with the handicap -- I am.  My obligations, my fears, my pride, my circumstances -- they all become disabilities when I do not submit them to Christ.

Who knows if Kevin comprehends things I can never learn?  After all, he has spent his whole life in that kind of innocence, praying after dark and soaking up the goodness and love of the Lord.  And one day, when the mysteries of heaven are opened, and we are all amazed at how close God really is to our hearts, I'll realize that God heard the simple prayers of a boy who believed that God lived under his bed. 

Kevin won't be surprised at all. 


- AUTHOR UNKNOWN -

Source: Godslittleacre.net

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Just A Typewriter

He lived at Rose Haven Nursing Home ( Roseburg , OR ) for years. Paul Smith, the man with extraordinary talent was born on September 21, 1921, with severe cerebral palsy. Not only had Paul beaten the odds of a life with spastic cerebral palsy, a disability that impeded his speech and mobility but also taught himself to become a master artist as well as a terrific chess player even after being devoid of a formal education as a child.

"When typing, Paul used his left hand to steady his right one. Since he couldn't press two keys at the same time, he almost always locked the shift key down and made his pictures using the symbols at the top of the number keys. In other words, his pictures were based on these characters ..... @ # $ % ^ & * ( )_ . Across seven decades, Paul created hundreds of pictures. He often gave the originals away. Sometimes, but not always, he kept or received a copy for his own records. As his mastery of the typewriter grew, he developed techniques to create shadings, colors, and textures that made his work resemble pencil or charcoal drawings."

This great man passed away on June 25, 2009, but left behind a collection of his amazing artwork that will be an inspiration for many. 

You know that saying about "When life closes a door, God opens a window"? Well, I think God just helped this man build a whole new house.

Source: http://www.rogerknapp.com

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Kan. prisoners get the granny treatment

Grandmas, by their very nature, don't want trouble. They're typically more partial to cookies and Afghans than thugs and thieves.

But 81-year-old SuEllen Fried of Prairie Village, Kan., defies that stereotype, bringing her sweet, soft touch to this razor-wire world.

"I have never had one iota of fear," said Fried.

Fried started coming to Lansing Correctional around 1980 for what she thought would be a little volunteer work, but ended up committed to these guys — for life.

SuEllen and one of the prisoners that attends her program.

 / CBS News

The prisoners say Fried "has that grandmother effect on people," and "just shows that she cares."

Another adds, "By her seeing something in us, it cuts a light on or sparks a kindle within us and tells us maybe we're not that bad."

Fried has helped develop, and now runs a program here called "Reaching Out from Within."

The program basically helps prisoners work with one another to be kinder, more empathetic people.

Most admit they really need that help — the question is, what does Fried get from sitting here in this sorry sea of blue?

"I am addicted to personal transformations," said Fried.

Fried says over 90 percent of the people who attend her meetings when they leave prison do not return. We checked and she's right.

Although nationally the recidivism rate is about 50 percent — for prisoners who regularly attend her meetings, it drops to less than 10 percent.

For that reason, "Reaching Out From Within" has now spread to every prison in Kansas — and at least one other state is trying to replicate it.

SuEllen with a prisoner.

 / CBS News

Of course, the problem is there's no replicating SuEllen.

SuEllen says she does not see criminals when she works with her prisoners.

"I believe that every single human being has an angel and a beast inside of them. And the more that we are willing to look at the beast, the more we are willing to hold onto the angels," said Fried.

Source: CBS News

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Hiker Survives 3 Months in Wilderness Following Bear Attack

A hiker was rescued after surviving a bear attack and spending three months, exposed to snow and freezing temperatures, in a remote corner of northern Canada, police said.

Police located Marco Lavoie, 44, in the wilderness near Waskaganish, Quebec, on Wednesday, 10 days after his family reported him missing and nearly a month after the experienced outdoorsman was expected to return from a two month hiking expedition.

Police believe Lavoie survived the bear attack uninjured, sometime in August, when his German shepherd got in between the man and the bear, Sgt. Ronald McInnis, spokesman for the Quebec Provincial Police told ABCNews.com.

"The bear ate the man's food and damaged his survival equipment," said McInnis, "But his dog went between the man and the bear and protected him. The man was not injured in the attack."

McInnis would not say what became of the dog and would not comment on reports that Lavoie may have eaten the dog to survive.

Lavoie suffered "hypothermia, dehydration and starvation," police said, but he is expected to survive his injuries.

The hunt for Lavoie was initially hampered by heavy snow and high winds that grounded helicopters on Oct. 21, but on Oct. 30 a chopper crew spotted Lavoie and officers were dropped in the area that was described by McInnis as "wild."

Lavoie was too weak to walk, and a QPP officer carried the man on his back for nearly two miles to the helicopter, a trip that due to snow and rugged terrain took three hours, McInnis said.

Cops believed the man would have been dead within hours had he not been rescued. He was too weak to eat or drink water and is receiving fluids via IV.

Police are waiting for the man to further recover in order to continue their interview and learn exactly why he was unable to escape the wilderness and the measures he took to survive.

Source: ABC News

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Wheelchair racer pushes for marathon 'grand slam' — and eyes Sochi gold

If wheelchair racer Tatyana McFadden is the first to roll across the finish line at the New York City Marathon on Sunday, she'll be the only person ever to win four major competitions in a year.

But even before she uses her incredible upper body strength to propel herself across the Verrazano-Narrows Bridge and past 26.2 miles of cheering crowds, the 24-year-old para-athlete has already set her sights on another prize: gold at Sochi.

McFadden, nicknamed "The Beast" by her coach, is hoping to qualify for the U.S. Nordic skiing team competing at the 2014 Winter Paralympics — and use the platform to send a message to Russian President Vladimir Putin that his ban on adoptions by Americans is wrong-headed.

NBC's Kate Snow spoke with Tatyana McFadden, an extraordinary athlete and passionate advocate for Russian adoption.    

For her, it's a personal cause. McFadden was born in St. Petersburg, Russia, with spina bifida — essentially a hole in her vertebra — and spent her first years in a grim, crowded Russian orphanage.

She filled up on cabbage soup, learned to walk on her hands because there was no money for a wheelchair, and vied with 70 other children for the attention of two caretakers.

"Any tough day that I have now, I have to think about, 'I've been through tougher. This is going to be a breeze,'" she told NBC News.

"I think it sort of gave me the determination, the will and the drive...knowing sort of what it feels like to suffer."

McFadden might have spent the rest of her childhood in the orphanage — she was not expected to live past 10 without proper medical care — if an American woman who worked on disability policy for the federal government had not visited on a business trip.

Debbie McFadden felt an instant connection with the determined little girl, adopted her and brought her to the United States, where Tatyana began to thrive physically and emotionally. She channeled her considerable energy into athletics, winning a legal challenge in high school that led to the nation’s first law allowing students with disabilities to be part of their school sports teams.

"I did table tennis, field, ice hockey, downhill skiing and swimming and finally, I tried racing. And I knew that racing was the best fit for me," Tatyana said.

Hard to argue with that given her 10 track-and-field medals from three Summer Paralympic Games, not to mention back-to-back wins from the Boston, London and Chicago marathons — a trifecta never achieved by anyone, disabled or not.

"She averages about 16 miles an hour so she's doing under a 4-minute mile for 26 miles," said her racing coach, Adam Bleakney.

"If she wins in New York City this weekend, it'll set a precedent and set a standard for everyone else to shoot for," he said. "It's not been done before, and the fact that she's able to do it really speaks to her versatility and her skill and her talent."

But a grand-slam win on Sunday would merely cement her standing in wheelchair racing, and McFadden is anxious to conquer new challenges.

Her latest obsession is cross-country skiing.

Her debut performance in January at the World Cup made her eligible for Sochi and as soon as the New York City Marathon is over, she'll start training in earnest for several other races that would help her secure a spot on the team to compete in Sochi next February. She's currently the top-ranked U.S. woman in her category.

The Winter Games have been buffeted by controversy over Russia's new anti-gay "propaganda" law, but McFadden has a different bone to pick with Putin.

Last year, after Putin signed a bill barring Americans from adopting Russian children — in retaliation for a U.S. crackdown on human rights abuses — McFadden showed up at the Russian embassy in Washington, D.C., to protest.

"You can't use children as pawns between two political viewpoints. It's not right at all," she said.

While the Russian embassy accepted a petition she delivered, the demonstration didn't make much of a splash. So McFadden says the chance to make some noise in Sochi on the cross-country course will be an "added bonus" -- and a reminder of how one U.S.-Russian adoption turned out.

"I think going back to Russia and competing at the Sochi Winter Games, it's definitely going to show that I am a living success story," she said.

But first things first -- before she hits the snow, there's another marathon to run. She won Chicago by just three seconds, but if McFadden is worried about New York, she's not showing it.

"It's gonna be a fun weekend," she said. "It's gonna be very competitive."

And whatever happens Sunday, whatever happens in Sochi, McFadden will remain a force to be reckoned with in the world of wheelchair racing.

Asked how he feels about her new Olympic dream, Bleakney recalled the advice he gave his star athlete.

"I told her don't get injured," he said, "because we have the Boston Marathon in April."

UPDATE:  Since the original posting of this new article, the New YorkCity Wheek Chair Race took place with Tatyana winning! 

SOURCE: NBC News

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The Chosen

Have you ever been in a situation where you feel alone, lost, darkness all around and thought God had forgotten you existed?

We all experience times like these.  I will never forget my own a few years ago while in South Africa visiting my parents. 

The ten-day vacation was coming to an end and I expected to be home in the States within the three days.  Unfortunately, the staff of the airline I was to travel on went on strike, resulting in no flights coming to or leaving South Africa.

Initially, I was not concerned. Surely, I thought, this will resolve itself within the next three days. But no, it did not resolve. It went on for weeks. 

Panic set in because I needed to get back to the States as work and family were waiting for me.  I prayed and prayed, begging God to intervene in the strike so that I could fly home.  Daily I called the airlines.  There was never any change. 

Finally, after two long weeks of striking, a few flights left South Africa. But by this time there was such a backlog of passengers camped out at the airport that it would be weeks longer before I was able to leave. 

Still, I could not wait any longer. I had to get home. I presented my problem to the Lord once more. And, in faith, took action on my request to Him.

My parents took me to the airport, which was a good two-hour drive.  Not knowing what to expect when I got there, I planned to join those sleeping on the floor hoping to get a flight out.

We arrived at the airport and it brought my stomach to my throat.  The sight of the throngs was too awful to bear!

"We're just going to turn around now and return home," my mom said.

My dad, on the other hand, is one of those old time believers in God's amazing work in the worst of situations.

"I think she should just step out in faith and see what happens," he said.

We parked miles away and fought the crowd to the terminal.  People were sleeping, standing, camping out in the terminal.  No line was moving.  I had no idea where to go to even begin to put my name on a waiting list. 

And then God intervened, as He always does in such circumstances.  There I was standing with my huge suitcase, in the middle of the crowd, totally dazed, not knowing where to turn, when one of the airport attendees suddenly reached for me and asked, "Where are you going?"

I said, "New York."

He replied, "Come with me." He picked up my suitcase and escorted me right to the front of the line, leaving everyone else yelling and cursing at me.  He waited with me at the counter and helped me get on a flight. The flight had one seat open to New York.

After checking in, I went to find my parents, who were still in shock at what they had just witnessed.  My dad, tears running down his face, smiled and hugged me, saying, "Well?  Once again, all you had to do was step out in faith, making your requests known to Almighty God and He answered.  But you had to act on your faith.  Why do we doubt God?"

Looking back over the whole situation, my faith in God increased tremendously.  What happened?  Why was I chosen out of the crowd?  I will never know why, but I can only say that God took this situation to prove to me that He knows who I am, that He alone can work out the toughest challenges in our lives.  He knew I had to get home to fulfill commitments in the church.  I asked and He answered.   

There are times when we have to take God at His word when He says He will make a way in the wilderness when there is no way.  We have to physically move forward, taking up our baggage, trusting that He is who He says He is.

Was the gentleman in the airport who took me out of the crowd an angel?  I don't think so.  He was looking in the crowd for someone to put on the flight.  God helped him to pick me.

We miss out on so many blessings when we say, "The situation is impossible."  We must come to the realization that our God is a God who transcends the impossible.  We need to step out in faith, knowing He hears our cry.

What do you need to ask God for today?  And then how do you need to take action?


Sharon H.
East Rockaway, NY

Source: Touched By the Hand of God.

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