I know this is true because on May 1, God saved my life with a miracle so spectacular, so breathtaking, there is no doubt in my mind that I would now be severely disabled or dead except for Him! 

I was feeling great that Monday. My latest suspense novel was finished and in the hands of my editor—two weeks ahead of deadline—and I was going to relax and fly off to New Hampshire to see my family there the following Thursday. Life was good.  I was in tiptop shape, especially considering my silver hair and the many, many years I had been sitting at a desk, writing.

It was a beautiful day and my calendar was clear. I decided to celebrate by heading off to the aquatic center for my workout. Sun poured through the south bank of windows. American flags, dear to my patriotic soul, flew in Veterans Park beyond. For thirty minutes, I had the pool all to myself. I worked in a spot of sunlight, reveling in the feel of muscles moving through the water and the sun on my skin. 

Two people I knew casually entered the pool. We chatted briefly, and I worked another twenty minutes in the water. Then came my cool-down. Five to ten minutes of stretches combined with silent prayer. One by one, I lifted up my family and friends by name, asking God to supply their needs, according to His will. He knows them. I don’t have to give Him a laundry list.

At the end of my prayer, I did something I had never done before, not in all the years I had been going to the aquatic center. “God protect me,” I prayed, and then I stepped from the pool.

My bag with shoes, coverup, and beach towel was on a bench a few steps from the pool. I dried off a bit. Once again, I did something unusual for me. Instead of slinging the oversized towel over my shoulder or tying it around my wait as I always do, I hung it around my neck and headed to the showers, barefoot. 

Forty seconds later, my right foot slipped in a puddle of water on the apron of the pool, and I knew I was going to faceplant concrete. It flashed through my mind that I would likely die that day. Or be disabled. A dear friend and former classmate of mine had just such a fall several years ago. She ended up in a coma in Intensive Care, having brain surgery to relieve the masses of blood from cranial bleeding, and permanently impaired because of brain seizures and the damage that was done that day.

An instant after my foot slipped, my nose slammed the floor, then my forehead and my lips. My head ricocheted, bashing both upper and lower right sides.  My right knee connected with concrete. My entire body vibrated with the shock of the fall. I could hardly breathe. My nose poured blood.

But wait! I was still alive, still conscious. How did that happen? 

My face had slammed into a rubber mat, perfectly placed to cushion the blows. The rest of my body hit concrete. 

But God wasn’t finished with that miracle yet. Five minutes later, I was in the ambulance on the way to the ER. I managed one call to my son in Florida, and he got in touch with a dear church friend who rushed to the hospital to be with me. 

We had an anxious five hours—blankets to warm me from shock, questions and tests, waiting for the results. I knew my friend who had fallen on concrete had been lucid for hours before she sank into a coma from cranial bleeding. Would I? 

Finally, finally, my test results came back. No cranial bleeding, a great hallelujah moment; no broken facial bones except my nose, which had not been displaced and would not require surgery, another praise God; no broken fingers or hands, endless praises because I could still write and play piano; no internal bleeding, Amen; no broken hips, back, legs, arms, feet!  I had only a moderate scratch on my right knee, and I was ugly with facial swelling and bruises and wracked with pain, but God put everything in perfect place to save me that day. The beach towel around my neck that doctors say likely kept me from breaking it. The rubber mat on the floor that cushioned my face. The way I fell, so perfectly straight that I took the brunt of the fall on my nose and my forehead, which is made of strong and tough bone in order to protect the brain.

The first two weeks after the fall, I was in full recovery mode, my walking unsteady, my head hurting all over, my body stiff, my muscles seized, my speech thick because of swollen lips, my bruises turning dark red and deep purple. Oh, but I was alive. I was a walking miracle! I thanked God every day. I still do. He has more work for me to do on this earth. That’s all there is to.  I have found favor with Him through a deep and abiding faith and an eagerness to share it with others. 

I’m happy to report that one month after the fall, I’m back at church singing in the choir, playing piano for evening services, teaching the precious little children in Sunday School, and writing the third novel on a suspense trilogy I’m excited about. My nose will be completely healed in another few weeks, and I only have a small, crescent moon bruise under my right eye that should absorb in another week. 

What is impossible with man is possible with God. Luke 18:27

God is good, and He’s still in the business of working miracles!

Peggy Webb