It was about 9:30 pm on a brisk fall evening in Detroit that my life would change forever. I had worked all day in a trauma orthopedic unit. Afterward, I had gone to class and was physically and mentally exhausted as I made my way home. The streetlights lit each corner of the quiet neighborhood as I was driving down the street to my home. When I pulled into my driveway, I didn’t notice the car pulling up behind me. Thinking it was the guy delivering my paper, which usually came at night, I didn’t think anything about it.
Suddenly, a man jumped out of the back passenger side of the car and grabbed me pinning my arms to my sides while he dragged me to the waiting car. I dug my heels into the concrete sidewalk attempting to slow him down. I managed to free my right arm where I had been holding my keys and began to stab him in the neck with my right hand. My prayers were my terrified screams. This was a time where truly Romans 8:26 was my reality: “In the same way, the Spirit comes to help our weakness. We don’t know what we should pray, but the Spirit Himself pleads our case with unexpressed groans.” My guttural screams pierced the darkness.
I didn’t notice that my neighbor across the street had pulled up into his driveway, saw what was happening, and yelled, “Let her go!” I was between the inside of the door and the seat of the car. I could see the other three guys in the car. It would have been so easy for him to push me in. I was thinking, “Lord, if they get me in this car, they will find my body tomorrow.” I said to God, “there can never be a better mother to my son than me.” I later found out they had four sawed off shotguns!
The thoughts of survival filled my mind and were cascading through my spirit as I fought. Psalm 34:6-7 was a reflection point later: “This suffering person cried out: the LORD listened and saved him from every trouble. On every side, the LORD’s messenger protects those who honor God; He delivers them.”
At the time of the attack, I didn’t quote a favorite scripture. I didn’t remember Sunday’s familiar liturgy. I wasn’t wearing a cross around my neck nor was I carrying a Bible. I didn’t kneel or bow my head in prayer. I just pleaded in my heart for God to save me. I had a relationship with the God of heaven and His Son Jesus Christ. I believed the Holy Spirit was always with me.
No matter what happens in life, the power and presence of the Holy Spirit is always with us. Jesus is always making intercessions for us even when we don’t have words. When you don’t have words, the relationship speaks for itself.