When I got the call confirming Rick’s arrest, I didn’t know whether to cry from relief or anger. The idea that someone could harm another person for money — for greed — still haunts me.
David eventually recovered, though the scars on his back remain faint reminders of that nightmare. Every time I trace them with my fingers, I remember the fear in that hospital room — the doctor’s shout, the flashing lights, the unknown that almost took everything from us.
What We Learned
Life after that day became simpler — quieter — but more precious.
We stopped worrying about the things that don’t matter. We cook together now, take evening walks with our daughter, and end every night with gratitude.
One evening, as we sat on the porch, David said softly, “Maybe this was God’s way of reminding us what’s truly important.”
He was right.
We learned that love is not measured in comfort or ease, but in how tightly you hold each other when the storm hits.
And as I look at the faint scars on his back — the marks that once terrified me — I see them now as proof of courage, truth, and the power of refusing to give in to darkness.
