There have been so many miracles, blessings, and signs from God in my life that it feels wrong not to share them with the rest of the world. God is always at work in our lives, even when it feels like He’s nowhere to be found and when we need Him the most. But when we experience supernatural events that defy science or even our imaginations, when we have one of those “Did that really just happen?” moments, or when someone or something saves us at just the right time, we know, even if only deep down, that God had everything to do with it.
This series is all about showing the world the amazing and miraculous events I’ve experienced and giving credit where credit is due—to God Almighty, Who knows all, sees all, and doesn’t get nearly the credit that He deserves.
I have plenty of stories to tell in this series, in no particular order, so let me start with the 1997 tornado outbreak.
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March 1, 1997 – Little Rock, Arkansas.
I had lived in Little Rock my whole life, bouncing from trailer park to trailer park and occasionally a tiny rundown house here and there. I was familiar with tornadoes, having experienced several encounters as a little girl. Once at Baseline Elementary School in about the second or third grade when I huddled, heads between our knees, in a hallway with the rest of the school as a tornado roared past; and once in Higden near Greer’s Ferry Lake, another hallway huddle, this time with family members at my grandparents’ house. There were a couple of other times, but nothing too major, certainly nothing that would scar or traumatize me or even make me care much about the dangers of tornadoes as I got older. Anyone who has grown up in Arkansas knows that it can be a risky place to live weather-wise, particularly during the springtime, but those same people will also tell you, “It’s just a tornado! Put your big-girl panties on!” Tornadoes are no big deal and nothing to be afraid of until, of course, you’re facing down one of the green-debris-cloud-breathing monsters yourself.
I left early that morning with a friend and my one-year-old daughter, searching for a new place to rent. My oldest son, who was only three then, had spent the night at his grandma’s house. As I drove down Dixon Road toward Arch Street, I looked up at the sky and felt uneasy. I paid close attention to the clouds and wondered what the weather would be like that day, which was very unusual for me. I had never thought about tornadoes, much less worried about them.
The clouds looked…strange, like typical storm clouds but with more personality; they appeared quiet and patient but callous. The air was sticky and humid and felt heavy, like a wet blanket. I knew nothing about the anatomy of tornadoes or when the air was primed for their formation—nor did I care—so it was odd how aware and uneasy I became of the approaching danger.
I heard a voice in my head that sounded like my own but felt like…something else. “You need to get off the road,” the voice said, and without hesitation, I heeded the warning. I remember telling my friend before we made it to the end of Dixon Road, “We need to go home; I don’t like how the sky looks.”
We left the area immediately and drove the short distance home. Within minutes of taking my daughter inside the trailer, an EF4 tornado barreled through Little Rock, one of sixteen tornadoes that tore through Arkansas that day. It happened in a breath, over as quickly as it had come, but left behind a path of destruction that killed twenty-five Arkansans.
Electric and telephone poles were down in most areas, but I still had service where I lived. I couldn’t get through to most people I tried to call, but I quickly found out that the tornado destroyed many nearby areas, including Dixon Road and Arch Street, where I had just left, every street I had planned to travel in search of “for rent” signs—and the street my young son’s grandmother lived.
I panicked. Needing desperately to find my son and getting a disconnected signal when trying to call his grandmother, I jumped into my car and headed in their direction. But I didn’t get far, as downed trees, powerlines, and debris had blocked all roads that led to her house. I parked at one point, got out of the car, and tried to run the distance, but police and firemen wouldn’t let me pass because of the dangerous powerlines strewn everywhere and because they were in the middle of a rescue effort.
I drove home and spent the next seven hours waiting for phone calls that would never come and even making the kinds of calls no mother ever wants to make—to the local hospitals.
It was by far the scariest, most traumatizing day of my life, even to this day, decades later. During these traumatic seven hours, I had to contend with the unimaginable and horrific possibility that my three-year-old son was gone. And every hour without a word only solidified that fear in my mind. I couldn’t sit down; I paced the floor with my heart in my stomach, and I couldn’t stop crying.
Then, another strange thing happened: the idea to call a friend of my son’s dad, who was my ex at the time, popped into my mind, and it was persistent. This was so strange because I had no reason to believe my son would be there; I didn’t know these people and had only met them once in passing years earlier. I didn’t know where they lived or if my son’s dad still associated with them. Even more strange was that I had heard or seen their phone number only once, four years earlier, and I had never actually dialed it.
But that voice kept telling me to call the number—the only problem was that I couldn’t remember it! And why would I, since I’d never called it before, I didn’t know these people and had only seen the number once four years before this day? Regardless, that persistent voice wouldn’t go away. I tried desperately to remember the number for at least an hour, but I couldn’t, no matter how hard I tried.
Then, I got down on my knees in the center of the room, people watching me in my anguish, and I prayed desperately to God, first asking Him to protect my son and that he was OK, and then I prayed to remember that phone number. As soon as I said, “Amen,” and opened my eyes, the phone number popped into my head.
I called the number immediately, fumbling the phone in trembling hands, and sure enough, my son was there, safe and sound with his dad.
God, the Holy Spirit, told me to be mindful of the weather that day, even though it was out of character for me to care.
He told me to get off the roads and to go home, where I would be safe.
He ensured my son would not be at his grandma’s that day. Thankfully, her house wasn’t destroyed, but most areas around it were, and there was debris, downed trees, and power lines all around her home.
He told me to call the unlikeliest people in search of my son—there were a few other, more likely people I could’ve thought to call, but didn’t.
God answered my prayer instantly when I needed to remember a phone number I’d only seen or heard once years earlier and had never before dialed.
This whole event was a miracle, from the time I got in my car that morning to the time I heard my son’s little voice on the other end of that phone, and I broke down in tears of relief. So many different things happening were beyond the human mind's limited power and far too extraordinary to be mere coincidence.
As I said, God is always at work in our lives and circumstances. He performs great miracles and much-needed blessings and places signs around us, many of which we never see. From the small and seemingly insignificant to miracles on a grand scale with no explanation other than the Hand of God. Let us give our mighty and powerful God the credit and praise that He deserves by recognizing His wonders, thanking Him, and telling the rest of the world what He has done for us.
May God bless you, your family, and your life.
The text in this article is copyright © 2023 Jessica Redmerski.
That is an awesome account of a terrifying situation! God is great! Our message at church was on Psalm 91 yesterday. Looks like you were dwelling in the shadow of the Almighty!
You might enjoy my story “One Stormy Night,” but it is nothing compared to this story!