It all started four years ago. I was asleep in my room. My room was right across the hall from the door leading to our unfinished basement where my sisters and I spent a lot of our time playing. My new bunny, Mittens, who I had just bought, was downstairs also. And then, at 2:30 in the morning, I woke up to my mom yelling at me to get up. My dad had opened the door to the basement and was laying on his stomach with his .22 held up against his shoulder. And he was on the phone. Someone was talking to him, and he was talking back. It was all gibberish to me. My mom was yelling at me to get out the front door. I was thinking, “has mom hurt herself?” but that didn’t explain the gun. But then I heard it. He was in the basement. I heard something like chains rattling. I was trying to get out front door open. My mom was yelling at me to run. I said, “what about the girls?!” All she said was run. And I did. I got the front door open, and my mom and I took off running across the street. And then I hear the shots go off. Eight of them. We ran to my neighbor’s house, Mr. Billy, and my mom started banging on his door, yelling at the top of her lungs. The taxi man, who lived down the street, drove by in his car and yelled to my mom, “They’re on their way.” I stood there and covered my ears. My mom was so loud. Mr. Billy came to the door and asked what was wrong. My dad was yelling out the front door, “help”! My mom said explained what happened and ran across the street back to the house. A police officer had pulled up and had run into our back yard. And then I saw him. A man. Laying in our backyard! With his head propped up against our fire pit. The officer was yelling, “Let me see your hands! Let me see your hands!” Another officer pulled up. A fire truck and an ambulance pulled up and they took off into the backyard. I was still standing there on my neighbor’s front porch. Shivering. Mr. Billy asked me what happened. Things started makings sense to me. The clouds lifted and the pieces fit together. I explained all that had happened. “A guy tried to break into our basement. Dad shot him. My sisters are still in the back room.” My mom ran back across the road to tell me to stay put. My neighbor and I stood there and watched police car after police car pull up. Later on, my sisters counted 10 police cars, four undercover cars, one ambulance, one firetruck, three news cars with the big cameras on top, the forensics truck, and the newspaper truck. My mom came for me, and as she talked to Mr. Billy, I ran back across the street to check on my sisters.
Once I got in the house, officers were walking around the house. My dad smiled weakly at me. I went to check on my sisters and they bombarded me with questions. My mom had face-timed my grandparents, who live in South Georgia, and she explained to them what had happened. My grandfather volunteered to make the four-hour trek to come get me and my sisters, since we were planning on heading down there anyway. We eventually worked out how we would get there. My mom had to go be questioned by a detective. We continued to talk to my grandparents. My mom came into the room after she was done and told me I needed to be questioned as well. I walked down the hallway in my teal robe, through the living room, into the kitchen and a nice man with big, black bags under his eyes, sat at our kitchen table. I sat across from him, and my mom held my hand. I didn’t need to hold her hand, but i held it anyway because she was shaking. (My hands are shaking as I write this.) He asked me questions like, “What did you hear.” “What did you see.” “What did you think was going on.” And I explained to him everything that I have explained to you. The rest of the night is a blur. Our awesome neighbor, Ms. Barbra, let us stay in her house because the police needed to process our house. Oh yeah, before that, a lady came to see my sisters and my mom and me. I don’t remember her name. But anyway, she was a Victim’s Advocate which are people that work in the sheriff’s department and come to the scene of the crime after the crime. They are there for the family in any way possible. She came in and gave us blankets and coloring books and comforted us. She even took our dog out for us because of all the cameras and news reporters. I later learned the man who broke in is name is Donavan. He was high on drugs. The police were able to connect him to crimes he had committed previously. A year later he was sentenced to five years in prison.
You might be wondering whose story this is. You might have already figured it out. It's mine. And my families. This is how my family fought off Satan’s attack and came through it triumphant. The thing is, that my dad had just returned the day before from Birmingham, AL, from a family emergency. My best friend had just lost his thumb in a farming accident. If Donavan had broken in the night my dad was gone things probably would have been worse. But as a result of these situations, not only did me and my friend become closer, but my family and I became closer. We trusted each other more. But we were still fearful. Fearful of the man who broke in. Fearful to even walk downstairs by ourselves. My dad was fearful enough, he couldn’t even take a walk around the block for the first six months after. He had to have some therapy. We even installed a security system, which we still have. My point is fear takes everything and gives nothing in return. (Yes, that is a quote from NCIS, don’t judge me.) Some other things happened to my family after, but we made it through. It was only by the grace of God though.
Bottom line: Through this experience I learned what I wanted to do with my life. I also drew closer to God. Because I learned when I am afraid, I have to put my trust in God. (Psalm 96:3) And Joshua 1:9 says, “Whenever I am afraid, I will put my trust in you.” So through every scary situation and experience, you must put your trust in God because he is in control.
Here is my favorite quotes from one of my favorite people. "Courage is being scared to death, but saddling up anyway." - John Wayne.
https://www.11alive.com/article/news/local/morningrush/pastor-father-of-3-shoots-man-breaking-into-his-home-say/85-492272250
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