Proof The Bible Is True

The C-141 Starlifter had just returned from a cargo run. My husband, Jeff, an airman 1^st class, checked the life support equipment—the oxygen masks, the parachutes. All in working order, nothing out of place. Except for something odd left behind on one of the seats. A crocheted white cross, three inches long. It didn’t belong to any of the crew. No one knew how it got there.

 

Jeff brought it home for me. He thought it would provide some comfort. I’d been five months pregnant with our first child, Aurora, when we left our home in West Virginia and moved to a two-bedroom apartment near Jeff’s base in Tacoma, Washington. I was having trouble adjusting to a new place, thousands of miles away from our friends and family, while caring for a newborn. I rarely left the apartment. To keep sane, I read the Bible and leaned on my Catholic faith. But the moment Jeff walked into the kitchen and put the crocheted cross in my hands, I had a strong feeling it was meant for someone else.

 

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