When a Mountain Moved

Actually, the mountain fell right on top of me. Yet, the story is the perfect intro to Mountains Will Move, where we will seek to build mountain-moving faith for peace-filled lives.

I noted the time when Ray rose from bed. 3:00am on the dot. Call of nature, I assumed. I snuggled into my pillow, determined to fall back to sleep. The baby had other ideas, however.

I listened to his snuffles for a few minutes before resigning myself to the inevitable. Climbing from bed, I gathered the eight-month-old into my arms and padded through the room, noting vaguely that the bathroom was unoccupied.

Arriving in the family room to nurse, I was only marginally surprised to see my husband on the floor beside the couch in the spot where he always cracked his back. He’d fallen asleep in his back-cracking position, right arm flung to the side, left arm slightly twisted across his body.

The man can sleep anywhere, I laughed inwardly. An image sprang to mind: Ray slumbering soundly while the rest of us chatted, sitting at our favorite late-night haunt during the college years. How many times did he order steak and eggs and fall asleep before they arrived? A smile formed at the memory. No point trying to wake him — he could sleep through anything.

I settled into my rocking chair, nestled the baby to my breast, and allowed my thoughts to roam through the previous evening’s events as little Evan slurped happily away. Family dinner, shuttling kids … Ray had left to visit a friend but soon returned and joined me while I watched a show. I savored the memory of our goodnight kiss, a second one for which I’d felt compelled to return after washing my face and changing into PJs.

Hhguuughhhhh! Ray’s ragged inhale ripped through my thoughts.

Sleep apnea? I registered, surprised. Forty-three, thin, and healthy, Ray was about the last person I’d expect to struggle with the ailment. I’ll tell him about this in the morning, I thought. He should see a doctor.

Hgk! Hgk! Hgk! Hgk! The sound sputtered across the room, this time in four quick, short gasps.

If he doesn’t call the doctor tomorrow, I will, I resolved.

Now fully alert, I listened for the next breath. It didn’t come. No ragged inhale, no gentle sigh. Nothing.

But he’s all the way across the room. Should I be able to hear his breathing?

I watched his chest. There was no discernible rise or fall.

But the light is dim, and he’s far away, I reasoned.

He was fine. Of course he was. Chiding myself for my silly paranoia, I interrupted the baby’s happy employ to walk to my husband’s side. Just to put my mind at ease, I gave him a gentle nudge with my bare foot.

He didn’t respond.

I nudged harder.

Still nothing.

I gave him a good shove.

His body moved a few millimeters. But he neither sniffled nor twitched.

My husband, my best friend, the father of our five children, was not sleeping on our family room floor.

I should have been paralyzed. I should have been hysterical. And yet—complete calm settled over me. I felt it, descending from my head down to my toes.

“You must have been in shock,” some have theorized, but it was not shock.

God will provide. God will be glorified. The words materialized in my mind with an almost physical presence.

I went and got my phone. I dialed 911.

God will provide. God will be glorified.

I set the baby on the floor. Placing the phone on speaker beside Ray’s inert form, I straddled his waist.

God will provide. God will be glorified.

I began to press into his chest, dimly remembering the tempo I’d learned from an episode of Good Morning America: Stayin’ Alive! Stayin Alive!

“My husband’s not breathing,” I informed 911 dispatch. I recited our address, gave Ray’s age. Medications? “None.” Any known medical conditions? “No.”

God will provide. God will be glorified.

She asked me to count one through eight with the rhythm of my chest compressions.

“One— “Two—” “Three—” I did as she instructed twice through, but it was a waste of breath. I turned to words of comfort and Heavenly aid.

“Hail—” “Mary—” “Full—” “of Grace—”

God will provide. God will be glorified. The words continued to play through my mind, an indescribable gift from the Holy Spirit.

The four older children scampered into the room. “Mommy, Mommy! What’s wrong?”

God will provide. God will be glorified.

“I don’t know. Daddy’s sick. Get on your knees. Pray.”

Minutes later, the firemen entered to find a woman straddling her husband surrounded by five young children, four of them kneeling in prayer for their father.

“Pray for us sinners—” “Now and at—” “The hour—” “Of our death.”

“We’ll take it from here, m’am.” The fireman nearly had to pull me from Ray’s still form. Coming to my senses, realizing they were far better equipped to help him, I relinquished my post.

I sat down on a nearby chair. My oldest son came into my arms.

“Mommy, what’s wrong with Daddy? What’s going to happen?”

God will provide. God will be glorified.

“I don’t know,” I answered, “but I know that you have a Father in Heaven. He’s going to take care of you, and He’s going to take care of Daddy.”

God will provide. God will be glorified.

I didn’t know how, but I knew the promise was true.

God will provide. God will be glorified.

He has. He has been.

He will. He will continue to be.

Not in the way I’d have liked, not in the way I expected, but all in His perfect love and mercy, all beyond our understanding.

Introducing Mountains Will Move

Mountains Will Move is about building mountain-moving faith, but having “faith the size of a mustard seed” (Matt 17:20), isn’t just about moving mountains. It’s about:

• Trusting God when the mountain doesn’t move—when the miracles don’t happen.

• Knowing that His plan is far superior to anything we might have planned for ourselves.

• Patiently waiting to see what that plan might be … even if we may not see it till the other side of Heaven.

• Receiving grace to experience peace and even joy through challenging times because we know, God will use this for good.

What to Expect

In Mountains Will Move, we will explore faults, failings, and faith to illustrate how God has worked and wants to work in the lives of His people, no matter how broken and imperfect we are, to give each of us that peace that surpasses all understanding (Phil 4:7). We’ll look at how each of us can increase in faith so that, as Christ promised, we might be able to tell a mountain “Move!” with the firm expectation that it will, indeed, move — though maybe not in the direction or with the timing we might have hoped for.

We will look at how God provides — measure upon measure, packed together, shaken down, overflowing (Luke 6:38).

We will seek to understand how God has been glorified, is glorified, and will be glorified as we pick up our daily crosses and carry them with faith and hope.

Weekly posts. Daily honesty. No claims to perfection, only a desire for it.

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Let’s gather up some mustard seeds and make those mountains move!

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Ready for the next chapter in this story? Read it here:

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About Stephanie Engelman:

Stephanie is a mother of five and caregiver to her husband, who suffered a brain injury in 2015 after a near-fatal heart attack. She is the author of the best-selling Catholic YA novel A Single Bead, a story of the power of prayer, and of the Bead by Bead children’s Rosary series. She frequently gives uplifting talks to faith-oriented groups and is the proud owner of the brand-new Etsy shop, Mountains Will Move, where you can find hope-filled apparel and gifts!