Last Christmas, I hooked up the video camera and tried to save all our home videos to a file on our computer. Then, I deleted all the videos from the camcorder.
As it turned out, I didn’t save the videos but only a shortcut to the videos on the camera. So when I tried to open the videos on the computer, the message, “File Not Found,” appeared. I turned on the camera and tried to retrieve the videos again but all I got was an empty folder. I tried multiple times to recover them, hoping that there was something I was overlooking. It was no use.
I’d lost all our records of our first year with my son, Zane—leaving the hospital, his trip to Ohio to see Grandma and Grandpa, the first time he crawled, Thanksgiving, his baby dedication, Christmas—everything was gone.
I was devastated. How would I tell my husband, Todd, that I wiped out all our precious videos? I didn’t want him to feel the heavy burden of sadness and loss that I was experiencing. I was crushed and consumed by anxiety, even to the point of waking up at night in a panic. I cried over this loss on several occasions from that day on.
Then, two months later on Valentine’s Day, I was in the kitchen wrapping candy that I made for Todd. Zane was happily banging a plastic dish against the floor. We were listening to a sermon by Joseph Prince about how God wants to restore whatever that has been lost. I felt anew the weight of grief over the loss of our family videos and all of Zane’s milestones.
Like a scale holding two lead weights, my emotions teetered between being desperate to recover our memories and feeling silly for wanting to pray over something so seemingly small to the One who created the entire universe. Even so, hope started to well up in my heart as I listened to the message.
I fell to my knees, sobbing and crying out, “I destroyed our videos! Please, God, restore them to us in the name of Jesus!”
I picked up Zane and ran up the stairs to get the camera. I came back and plugged it in to the computer. I held my breath as I opened the drive that has been blank every time I have opened it before.
I hadn’t been doing everything I ought to have done as a good Christian. I thought, “Lord, I know You are able, but are You willing?”
I clicked to open the drive. I laughed out loud and began crying fresh tears of joy. Our videos were there! Every one of them! Hallelujah! Thank You, Jesus!
I felt two months of anxiety and sadness swirl out of my heart like dirty bath water going down the drain. He loves me and answers my prayers—not because of who I am, but because of who He is. I am His not-so-secret admirer, and He is the lover of my soul. I am overwhelmed and delighted! All my questions were put to rest, and in their place, a single one posed from the King of Kings to me: Won’t you be My Valentine?
Megan Cutlip | North Carolina, US