As a child, I grew up in a broken home. My dad had primary custody of my two older siblings and me, and we visited my mom every other weekend and on holidays. You can imagine that, as a seven-year-old girl, I deeply yearned for and missed my mom. I was so confused by the fact that I couldn’t see her regularly or talk to her sometimes.
It was during this time in my life that my mother joined the Seventh-day Adventist church, and she took my brother and me to church when we visited. She was changing. Her entire demeanor, life, and goals were different. She was in love with this man named Jesus and constantly talked to Him. I was wary. I hadn’t yet formed an opinion about God or Jesus. I listened to the stories and songs, watched my mom throw away her cigarettes, start dressing differently, and become a person I didn’t recognize but really enjoyed.
I remember one specific time when I hadn’t seen my mom in a couple of weeks. When you're seven, that feels like an eternity. I wanted to call my mom, but my stepmother refused to let me. She even took down photos of my mom and me that had been in my room. Now that I am an adult, I understand that relationships are complicated, and people often react in ways they shouldn’t—we are human, after all. But as a child, I couldn’t understand any of it, and I was breaking down.
One Friday, when my mom was supposed to pick me up, the school secretary told me to take the bus home instead because plans had changed. My face grew hot, and I was doing everything I could to hold back the tears that were starting to burn my eyes. I remember desperately trying to push down the lump in my chest so I could somehow get a breath. I got on the bus, hugged my backpack, and kept telling myself not to break down in front of all my peers.
Walking through the front door, I threw my backpack on the ground and ran to my bedroom, slamming the door so hard that a mirror fell. My breathing quickened and grew shallow, and my fists clenched so tightly that I remember my hands hurting from my nails digging into my palms. I sat on my bed, and the tears I had been trying to hold back burst out like floodgates opening. There was no stopping them. I sat there crying uncontrollably and started yelling at God. You see, I saw how much my mom trusted this Man in the sky. I saw her changing, but what for? It seemed like the more she trusted, the harder and worse my life became. At that moment, I knew that God either wasn’t real or He just didn’t care about me. So, I yelled. I said things like: “Why do you hate me? Why would you take a child from her mommy? Why do you want me to feel sad?”
After I calmed down, I reflected on everything I had said and all I had learned in church, and I decided to make an ultimatum with God. Yeah, you read that right. A seven-year-old, hurting, emotional, irrational little girl was challenging the Almighty.
“God, if you’re real, you WILL tell my mommy that I love her.” As the words left my mouth, the lump in my chest disappeared and was replaced with knots in my stomach. I knew this was a make-or-break request. In my mind, if God didn’t do this, then there was no God. I spent the next week thinking about my ultimatum daily.
The following Friday arrived, and my mom was waiting in the parking lot, ready to hug me. I didn’t even crack a smile. My anxiety was obvious. I walked past my mom, opened the car door, and slammed it shut. I remember my mom, probably feeling a little hurt, slowly getting in the car and gently asking, “Mikaela, is everything okay?” I stayed silent. “Honey, what is wrong?”
The lump in my chest returned, and I couldn’t breathe. Tears filled my eyes as I asked, “Mom, did God tell you anything?” Looking back, I can imagine my mom was surprised and a little worried about how her answer might affect me. She cautiously said, “Well, honey, I need a little more information. God talks to me all the time.”
This made me angry. Did she think I was that naive? I said, “If I tell you, you will just say He told you, so that I will believe in Him.”
She looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Mikaela, I would never lie to you. You have to trust me.” The tears I had been holding back started to stream down my face. In a cracked, broken voice, I asked, “Mom, did God tell you that I love you?”
At this moment, my heart was racing, my cheeks were soaked, and that stubborn lump in my chest seemed to grow so large that I felt like I would never breathe again. Somehow, it seemed as if my body knew that my existence depended on this answer. I looked up, and my mom's eyes were as big as saucers and quickly filling with tears. She slowly reached into her pocket and pulled out a small piece of paper. I recognized the paper she was holding; I had drawn on these prayer request papers from the church pew during sermons and would often place them in my mom's purse or pocket. But I hadn’t been with my mom for weeks, and I didn’t even recognize the blazer she was wearing. She said, “About a week ago, I was feeling so sad and lost because I was missing you so much. I was crying and asked God for strength to get through my day. For some reason, I came across a blazer that I hadn’t worn in months and felt compelled to wear it. When I put it on, I put my hands in the pockets and found this note.”
She handed me the note. I opened it, and there was a picture I had drawn of my mom and me with Jesus, with the words, “I love you, mommy” in my handwriting at the top. My heart almost dropped into my stomach, and all the hairs on my body stood on end. I looked at my mom, both of us now tears streaming down our faces, and she said, “He DID tell me you love me, and I’ve had that note with me every single day since to remind me that you do.”
Call to Action: Know that God is REAL & He Loves You
That was the moment that my faith in God was solidified. Not only was God real, but He loved ME. He heard my plea and took mercy on a hurt, seven-year-old girl whose life was falling apart. He picked up every single piece and has been holding me together ever since.
“He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.”
Isaiah 40:29 NIV
All Scripture quotations are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright ©1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide.
