Everyone has a story to tell their family. Our Thanksgiving table represented many of them. The most recent an uncle miraculously recovering from brain surgery six weeks prior. His wife a breast cancer survivor.

A father who lost his arm nearly fifty years ago miraculously protected from bleeding to death. He’s told his story in many pulpits throughout the years, but we never tire hearing about this amazing act of God.

A grandson diagnosed with optic nerve hyplosia (expected to be visually impaired) not only has perfect vision but excels in school. In answer to the prayers of many.

Our son diagnosed with a rare blood disorder causing three blood clots in his head now healthier than ever. I am eternally grateful.

And me, a cancer survivor for 25 years. There aren’t enough words to thank Him.

I was reminded of another act of God my late mother-in-law often recalled about her son, David. My husband.

He suffered a skull fracture out in the wilderness of Canada when he was eight years old. Forty miles from the nearest town.

His dad had taken his boys fishing at a secluded lake. Rare quality time spent with their pastor dad. Following his lead, casting from the shore, and pulling one in right after another. It would be a vacation to remember.


And that’s just what it became. Unaware of pranksters high on the cliffs above, the threesome continued casting their lines. Reeling in dinner. Having fun and making memories.

Until one boulder after another bounced haphazardly down the cliff. A landslide of sorts. Before they realized what was happening one hit its target below. The head of their eight-year old son. It knocked him out and into the deep water below. Within seconds Dad jumped in saving his bleeding boy from drowning in the lake.

Mom was back at the cabin preparing lunch for her crew. Never imagining the horror she was about to encounter. Dad carrying their unconscious son in the door. Within moments the four of them were racing to the nearest hospital. Forty miles away.

Arlene often recalled those agonizing moments holding him on her lap. His head wrapped in towels to compress the bleeding. She prayed as they sped along, silently releasing her baby boy into God’s hands. They never expected him to make it.

It was a different day back then. As they rushed their son into the emergency room, they realized they had left all their identification back at the cabin. No wallet or purse. No driver’s license or insurance card.

Thankfully, the medical attendants on duty ignored all regulations and rushed David into surgery. Word spread throughout the little town and soon a local Assembly of God church was delivering food and clothing into the waiting room. Offering lodging and heartfelt prayer. This church body ministered to the Coopers in their darkest night of the soul. Praying with them for a miracle. And that’s just what they got.

David fully recovered. The doctor and nurses called him their miracle boy. Truly God was with them and protected their son from further complications. All that skull fracture did was keep him out of the Viet Nam war.

I believe God spared David’s life. To be a Kingdom builder. To be my future husband. To be the father and grandfather of our children.

We rehearse the goodness of God to our family by telling my husband’s story over and over again. It gives God the glory and hopefully causes future generations to put their hope in God as well. Isn’t that precisely how it should work?

We will tell the next generation the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord…

so the next generation would know them

and they in turn would tell their children.

Then they would put their trust in God.

Psalm 78:4-6

What acts of God can you rehearse with your family? Are you telling your story? Your family needs to hear what God has done for you. It could impact their lives forever.

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