#SpiritualMiracle #NearDeathExperience #Faith #GodInTheDetails #Healing #Intuition #DivineIntervention
By Sandra Allison | Spiritual writer, intuitive, and cancer survivor
There are moments when faith doesn’t arrive in thunder.
It comes quietly, like water running behind a closed door, like breath you didn’t know you were holding.
In the summer of 2021, the world was still gripped by COVID.
But for me, the crisis wasn’t just global, it was terrifyingly personal.
My husband died.
And then… he came back.
But that’s not where this miracle begins.
The Keys, the Mansion, and the Urge to Leave
We had been staying in a stunning beachfront mansion in the Florida Keys, a summer gift from my childhood best friend. A dream vacation. Four or five days of peace and beauty.
But something felt… off.
My children were acting strangely. I felt a heaviness I couldn’t name. My intuition, usually subtle, became urgent. I kept seeing my guides. My emotions ran high. I didn’t know why, but I knew we had to leave early.
We packed up and drove home.
Two days later, my husband coded in the hospital.
A Blurred Warning and a Sandwich
He had started coughing, struggling to breathe, insisting he was fine. I knew he wasn’t. I insisted he go to the hospital. It was still peak COVID, I wasn’t allowed inside.
As he stepped out of the car, something slipped out of my mouth without thought:
“Whatever you do… don’t let them intubate you!”
He looked confused. I didn’t know where it came from. But I said it anyway.
Later that evening, he called me from his hospital room. He was settled in, ordering a sandwich.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said.
He never called in the morning.
The Call That Broke Me
I expected to be transferred to his room.
Instead, I was connected to the ICU charge nurse.
My children were listening on speaker.
“Your husband went into cardiac arrest. Code blue. CPR for fifteen minutes. He’s alive, but in a medically induced coma. His condition is critical. We’re doing everything we can.”
Fifteen minutes.
No pulse.
Fifteen minutes of death.
Machines, Rage, and the Question I Was Afraid to Ask
I stood over his bruised, swollen body. Machines keeping him alive. Doctors warning of brain damage. Possible kidney failure. Telling me to prepare.
I went home and collapsed into prayer.
Only… I wasn’t soft.
I was angry. Furious at the hospital. At the doctors.
At God.
Two years earlier, I had survived cancer. I had prayed for a miracle and received one. But now? Was this punishment? A trade?
“Why did I survive, just to lose him? Was I only promised one miracle?”
The Cheeseburger and the Coma
The next day, I received a call. It was the hospital again.
Only this time, it wasn’t the nurse. It was my husband’s voice.
“I want a McDonald’s cheeseburger.”
I didn’t understand at first. But then he said it again.
“I want a McDonald’s cheeseburger.”
He had woken up, mid-MRI, sat up, hit his head.
But he was awake.
Alive.
And hungry.
The Mirror That Spoke Back
Shortly after he returned home, I left the shower running. I wasn’t bathing, yet. Just letting the steam calm me. I stepped out to grab something, came back…
And there they were.
Two shapes, clear in the steam on my bathroom mirror.
One tall, cloaked in presence.
One smaller- it was me.
And next to them, a bold capital K.
God had come.
And He brought a message I hadn’t expected:
“I didn’t promise you one miracle.
I promised you Myself.”
The “K” was no coincidence.
Dr. K was my husband’s original cardiologist, the one who would eventually treat him after transferring to a new hospital. The right doctor. The right path. The miracle, unfolding piece by piece.
The Truth That Found Me in Steam
My husband survived acute respiratory failure, hypoxia, cardiac and pulmonary embolisms, atrial fibrillation, and COVID. He was gone… and came back. Not just medically, but spiritually.
And through it all, I realized the promise wasn’t broken.
It was bigger than I imagined.
The miracle wasn’t one.
It was many.
It was layered, guided, and divinely timed.
The Creator didn’t speak in thunder.
He showed up in steam.
If you’re reading this…
If you’ve ever questioned if your miracle is still on its way-
If you’ve ever felt abandoned in your darkest hour-
If you’ve ever screamed at God and then heard only silence…
Please know:
Sometimes the miracle is already unfolding.
And sometimes, it shows up in a mirror.
Written by Sandra Allison
Wife, mother, spiritual writer, cancer survivor, and intuitive voice for the voiceless.
Follow me on Medium or WordPress for more sacred essays, memoir reflections, and spiritual storytelling.
Please feel free to respond to this post and share your miracle story.
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