MY MIRACLE IN THE MUNDANE

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When I look back on my journey, I see the unmistakable hand of God working miracles in my life. I have witnessed His power in incredible ways—my husband surviving stage 4 terminal cancer for nearly five years when doctors said he had only months, and God answering my prayer for clear direction in moving from California to Indiana through undeniable miracles. But the most profound miracle He has done is in my own heart.

I have been a believer for 40 years. I have seen Jesus, dreamed dreams of the Lord, witnessed visions, and experienced miracles. Yet, despite all of that, I found myself in a place of deep spiritual death. In 2018, I reached a breaking point. I told my parents I wasn’t a Christian. My faith, once vibrant, had faded, and I had fallen into alcoholism, mysticism, and bitterness. When I arrived in Indiana, I was hardened—angry, numb, and distant from God. I was living, but I was spiritually dead.

I had told God that if He wanted me to move from California to Indiana, He would have to do a miracle to make it happen. And He did—He provided me with an incredible job at Notre Dame and began rebuilding my life in ways I never could have imagined. But the greatest miracle wasn’t just getting me to Indiana; it was what He did in my heart once I arrived.

Then, during a Core 101 class at my church, we were asked to share our expectations. Without hesitation, I said, “I need God to raise me from the spiritual dead.” I didn’t know at the time just how much He was about to answer that prayer.

A month later, God asked me to do something I never expected—try out for the worship team. Worship had been the foundation of my relationship with my late husband, Mark. We had sung together, worshiped together, and carried each other through music. It had been part of our love story. And now, stepping back into that space without him felt impossible. I didn’t know if I could do it. I didn’t even know if I wanted to.

But I couldn’t shake the feeling that God was asking me to take this step. Even though I was still grieving, still healing, still unsure of where He was leading me, I knew I had to obey. I was 2,200 miles away from everything I had ever known, newly married to my husband Charles, still trying to find my place in a new season. And yet, God was asking me to step into something that had once felt like home but now felt unfamiliar.

So I showed up.

When I walked into Brandon’s office for the audition, I could feel the nerves creeping in. It had been so long since I had sung in front of anyone. I didn’t know what I was supposed to say or how I was supposed to feel. Brandon smiled and told me to go ahead and sing. I took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and without even thinking—closed my eyes.

And suddenly, I wasn’t in that office anymore.

I was standing in my home, singing over my children, declaring the name of Jesus over them—over their fears, their futures, their lives. It wasn’t about performing. It wasn’t about trying out. It was about interceding.

When I finished, I opened my eyes, and Brandon was looking at me curiously. “Why did you close your eyes?” he asked.

I hesitated before answering. “Because I was envisioning singing it over my kids.”

He nodded thoughtfully, but that was it. There was no immediate invitation, no big confirmation. I left unsure of what would come next.

It wasn’t until later that I learned Brandon had played my audition recording for Chelsea. He wanted her to hear it, to get her thoughts. And after they talked, he reached back out to me.

“We’re a family here,” Chelsea emailed me. “And we want you to be part of it.”

I hadn’t expected that. I thought I was just trying out for a worship team, but God was doing something deeper. He wasn’t just placing me on a team—He was placing me in a community.

God knew what He was doing. He knew I needed worship to bring me back to Him.

I thought the hardest part was over. But when I finally stepped onto a stage to lead worship, something changed. The peace I had felt in Brandon’s office was gone. The weight of performing settled on my chest. I wasn’t afraid I would forget the lyrics or miss a note—I was afraid that everyone could see me. That they could see how unqualified I felt. That they would realize I was a fraud. That I wasn’t good enough to be up there.

Every time I stepped onto that stage, fear gripped me. The very thing that had once felt so natural, so safe, now felt overwhelming. The same voice that had poured out worship in Brandon’s office now felt small and unsteady. The confidence I had in that private moment disappeared under the eight of being seen.

And I started to question everything. God, why would You call me to this if I feel like I don’t belong here? Shouldn’t this feel easier? Shouldn’t this feel anointed? I kept waiting for the moment when it would all go away—the fear, the anxiety, the doubt. I kept waiting for God to take it from me so I could finally step into what I thought He had called me to. But instead of delivering me instantly, He walked me through it.

It wasn’t one big moment where everything changed. It was small, steady moments. The first shaky note I sang. The people who encouraged me to keep going. Brandon’s words reminding me that I belonged. The rehearsal where, for the first time, I wasn’t afraid.

And then, slowly, I stepped onto the stage, the music began to play, and before I even realized it—the fear was starting to fade. The moment I started worshiping, I wasn’t thinking about the people in the audience or whether I was being judged. I wasn’t overanalyzing my voice or wondering if I was good enough to be there. I just worshiped. And that’s how I got through it. I didn’t have to fight fear anymore because I focused on my love for Jesus and it was just an intimate love song between Jesus and me. It wasn’t the miracle I expected. But it was still a miracle. God didn’t just bring me to Indiana. He didn’t just put me on a worship team.

He restored me.

What started as a hesitant step turned into a journey of deep healing. He broke the chains of my addiction—I am now 630 days sober. He transformed my bitterness, anger, and pride into a heart that longs to serve Him. The same person who had once told her parents she wasn’t a Christian is now leading Bible studies, discipling others, and connecting worship with the Word.

When I shared my testimony today, I didn’t know if it would ever be used. But that didn’t matter. Simply speaking aloud what God had done was powerful. Before I even went in to record, someone stopped me and thanked me for being on the worship team. “Your worship has inspired me,” they said.

That moment confirmed it. I was meant to share my story. And when I stood on that stage to worship this weekend, it wasn’t just about singing. It was a declaration of God’s goodness.

I have seen many miracles in my life, but the greatest one has been the miracle of restoration. The miracle of forgiveness. The miracle of redemption. God has not only delivered me from alcoholism, mysticism, and bitterness, but He has also called me to guide others in their walk with Him. I stand here today as living proof that God is still in the miracle-working business. He truly brings the dead to life—not just physically, but spiritually.

What He has done for me, He will do for you.

If you feel lost, broken, or far from Him, know that He is not done with your story. He is still pursuing you. His love is greater than anything that tries to hold it back.

To hear more about how God moves in the small moments of our lives, listen to my latest podcast episode, Miracles in the Mundane linked below.

Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/4TXK7iqOnXCr8XWyj3b4dJ?si=22e54fcb8b854447

Apple Music: https://music.apple.com/us/album/i-know-a-name-single/1793586884

YouTube Music: https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=4NdF5gRoL6k&si=MpUSAhoEkE8jtQTn