My Wife Found God | Story of a Sacrifice
After her miscarriage, my wife started praying a lot. Which was odd. As far as I knew she didn’t even believe in God. Every night, she would kneel at the foot of our bed, always in the same place, praying. I gave her time and space to heal. I waited months to even bring up eventually trying again. We both wanted a kid. “I don’t want another kid,” she said, “I want our son back.” Son? We never learned the gender. How did she know it was a boy? Slowly, she started praying more, longer. It wasn’t just before bed anymore. She’d kneel at the bed incessantly whispering to herself. I’d finish a movie by myself and realize she’d been praying the whole time. Two hours? Like I said, this wasn’t like her. I asked why she was praying so much. “I’m talking to our son.” “Honey, our son passed.” “I know that. I’m not crazy . I’m talking to him on the other side.” “Other side?”