Life comes with all kinds of unforgettable moments, some that are very hard to bear.
However, when the time drew near for the Great North American Eclipse on April 8 of 2024, we knew that was an unforgettable moment not to be missed, and we wanted to share it with everyone.
So we asked you — our wind chime fan community — to share your unforgettable moments with us.
The stories we received gave us so much inspiration and encouragement. Each story always seemed to bend towards hope, no matter what.
We know this For the Girls community has moments that you’d rather forget involving breast cancer. So, we hope these stories encourage you to keep going, in spite of what you’re facing. May each story remind you of a moment when time stood still for you in the most wonderful way.
In 2011, my husband–the last person you would expect–without warning took his life. I was devastated, inconsolable…I begged God to let me feel my husband’s presence. In the past when I was faced with a death, I always looked for a rainbow and felt close to that person when I saw one. I begged God please show me a rainbow…Rain, sun, no rainbow…I felt the loss deeper…I questioned why no signs…
Two years ago, just before Thanksgiving, I had planned a sunrise hike with a few women. Near the beginning of the hike is a perfect spot to see the sunrise. I wanted to share a Native American gratitude prayer. Only one friend showed up.
My car was t-boned by a conversion van. When my car slid to a stop, the conversion van was resting on the passenger’s side of my car. I was in the driver’s seat. The airbag deployed and it damaged my face.
“Eclipse” is a very good word to describe a moment like that. Everything faded from importance. “What is going to happen to me? Am I going to lose my eye? Am I going to look like a monster forever?”
As I climbed out of my crumpled car and laid down in the grass at the side of the road, I tried to collect myself. All of a sudden, a woman was lying down in the grass next to me with cloths for my face. I remember telling her that she was getting my blood all over her, and she said that she didn’t care.
She showed up so quickly on the scene that I asked her if she saw the accident happen. I have never forgotten her reply. She said, “No. I’m just passing by.” When the ambulance arrived, she told me that she would be leaving. Then she was gone. Just like that. My mom contacted news stations and newspapers who ran the story and said that our family was looking for her so that we could thank her, but we never did find her.
Thankfully, there were no broken bones in my face. My raw skin would heal with medical care and time, and the cut that ran across my chest and up to the side of my neck would also heal. My eye was a different story.
Once the bleeding stopped [after a long time of waiting], the doctor was able to see my retina more clearly. I’ll never forget the appointment when he looked at me and said, “There is scar tissue that has formed on the tear of your retina. It has pulled the tear of your retina back together and sealed the tear. Your retina is stronger now with the scar tissue that it’s ever been.”
Since then, my vision has been completely restored.
Each of my four children has asked me at one time or another over the years if my scars bother me or make me self-conscious. My answer always has and always will be a resounding ‘no’. Those scars are a reminder of the miracles that happen during an eclipse. They are a reminder of the beauty and frailty of this life.
It is in the darkness that we find the miracles. I don’t know if the lady who stopped to help me was an angel or not, but it doesn’t matter. She was sent to me by God to tell me that He was very aware of what was going on in my life and that it was going to be okay.
It is the darkness that makes us appreciate the light. What we must learn to do during those eclipses is to find the beauty of our song; our harmony. It is only then that we can share our song and bring comfort to others in their eclipse.
Snow in south Texas is unlikely and to have it on Christmas Eve defies any odds. But it happened one unforgettable evening in 2004.
After 17 years of marriage, being told I would never have children, I went to the hospital with stomach cramps, at 2am, finding out that I was about to deliver a baby. I had no idea I was pregnant!
When my husband and I got married, our honeymoon was road tripping through the Colorado mountains. Being mostly untraveled young adults from the plains of Oklahoma we’d never seen mountains in person before. We were due to arrive in Manitou Springs, just west of Colorado Springs, one mid-morning in early October.