Hugged by God

Hugged by God

I was born in Romania where my dad and grandfather were planting Christian churches. At age four I said the prayer asking Jesus into my life. That is when I started noticing others besides myself. I would write, Jesus Loves You, on scraps of paper and leave for people to find.

In 1984, my dad felt his days were numbered in Romania, then ruled by the communists. He moved our family to California. I was eleven and attended local public schools. I was graduated from Cal State Haywood with a premed major. I had a change of focus and received a Masters in Divinity from Fuller Theological.

In 2010 I was a broken man. My career as a police officer  ended when I was permanently disabled in a scuffle while apprehending a suspect. My wife and I were divorced after twelve years of marriage. I was totally depressed.

To get back on track I decided in September 2011 to pray and fast. I tried it for a day. Nothing changed.  I fasted and prayed for three days. Nothing. Then I fasted for seven days, no change. and finally I had only water for two weeks. Nothing changed, I was still depressed.

In October I attended a prayer retreat with other members of the Lighthouse Church. While on my knees I said to God, "I tried on my own and nothing is going right," I was crying. "Lord I surrender to You. My life is yours."

I heard, "I love you. I've always been here."

I don't know how to adequately describe what happened next, I felt I was being lifted up while still kneeling There was a bright light of many colors in front of me and the light wrapped around me. I sensed I was being hugged by God. I was overwhelmed by love and peace beyond description. It was a freeing experience. Everything became peaceful.

I felt I was born into eternity.

"Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God." (Matthew 5:8)

Daniel Ploscaru                                                                                                                          Freemont,CA

A Confirmation

A Confirmation

 Like most empty-nesters, we had two cars:  A luxury sedan for Bill and a sporty                          SUV for me.  When Bill was diagnosed with brain cancer and had to be driven to chemo treatments, he became the passenger in the sedan…the smooth leather seats made it easy for him to pivot while getting in and out.  The cloth seats in my vehicle didn’t quite do the trick.  He just plain enjoyed being in that car!

As Bill’s condition worsened, we realized that we no longer needed two cars, so our youngest son was given my little car.  When Bill entered hospice care at home, I drove the sedan on the days I was able to go for all the errands.

After Bill died, I tried hard to like his car as much as I had my “old” one.  It was a lovely automobile, and as much as I appreciated its features, it just didn’t please me.  Another son with two children needed to replace a troublesome car, so I knew I could pass the sedan along to him and keep it in the family.  And that Bill would be pleased to have some grandchildren riding in it!

So a trip to the dealer produced a sporty little red sedan that won my heart right away.  No trade, not much paperwork, and the car would be ready for pickup the following day.  That night, of course, doubt came to visit.  Had I been callous to Bill’s memory not to cherish his car?  Was it my duty to keep it spiffy and on the road for as long as it would last?  I decided to claim the new car.

When I saw it sitting on the lot, all shiny and cute and waiting for me, I knew I’d been guided to the purchase and that all was well.  How did I know?  The numbers on MY (not Bill’s) car’s license plate had been 5603.  The brand new plates, supplied by the dealer, ended in 5604.  A most logical progression that my engineer husband would certainly have appreciated.

Rosemarie Seewagon

Hilton, New York