The Day I Saved My Brother’s Life

Jul 20

To be honest with you, I wasn’t sure what I was going to write about this week.

I don’t want anything I share here on Her Hudl to feel forced. I’ve got plenty to say—trust me—but sometimes figuring out what to share and when feels a little complicated. I pray through it. I wait. I try to listen.

Friday evening, I was driving down Hwy 77 with the rooftop open, headed to meet a friend for dinner in Hallettsville. I flipped the music to Divine Sound Radio—which I do sometimes when I’m not jamming to other genres. I love all types of music. Music speaks to me. It always has—ever since I was a little girl. It lifts me up, makes me feel seen, gets me dancing around the living room or kitchen—just ask my daughter (she’ll tell you I’m too much, ha!).

Then a song I’d never heard before came on.

"God Story" by Anne Wilson.
I replayed it three times. I needed it three times.
The chorus says:

My life is a God story
Gotta tell the world what He’s done for me
Miracles on miracles that only He could do
I’m proof that we’re all only
One prayer away from a testimony

And right then, in the middle of that drive and that song, I knew what story I needed to tell this week.

I Was Eight Years Old

When I saved my baby brother, Gabe, who was drowning.

Gabe and I are 6 years apart. I was 8. Gabe was 2. Gabe isn’t just my brother—he’s also the godfather to my youngest daughter, Gracelyn. That bond runs deep, and this story is one of the reasons why.

It’s a moment I’ll never forget, and one that I now see—so clearly—as nothing short of a miracle. A God Story.

There are four of us kids. My parents were both working that day and we were home with a babysitter. My childhood home had a pool, and my parents were very clear: if you're not swimming, the gate stays locked. That was the one non-negotiable.

That afternoon, I was inside… sweeping. Don’t ask me why—I don’t remember if it was a chore or if I just decided to pick up a broom, but there I was.

And I heard it. A voice.
A strong, clear, unshakable voice: Go check on your brothers.

I was 8. Eight-year-olds don’t usually think like that. But I listened.

I put the broom by the front door, walked outside, looked toward the pool—and that’s when I saw him.

My little brother Gabe. Face down. Diaper up. Floating in the water.

I ran. I don’t even remember how fast. I flew down those pool steps and pulled him out, turned him over—and he started coughing.

Coughing up water. Breathing again. Life coming back into that little body.

And I truly believe... if I had been even seconds later, I’d be sharing a very different story right now.

It brings tears to my eyes even as I type this. Because that moment could’ve changed everything. But God—in His mercy—intervened. And somehow, I heard Him.

To this day, I have no idea where our babysitter was. But I do know God was there. And I know that still, small voice that nudged me? That was Him.

Why This Story Still Wrecks Me

Now, as a mom of two girls, the thought of something like that happening is absolutely unbearable. The weight of motherhood sometimes feels like one long prayer for their safety.

But that day when I was eight? It shaped me.

I don’t ever ignore those nudges anymore. That little voice that says, go check on them… go peek in their room… go slow down and pray—I listen.

Because that was God’s voice then.
And it still is today.

And here’s the full-circle part that gets me:

That little boy—my baby brother—is now a grown man. In just a couple months, he’s getting married to the sweetest, most beautiful girl from Virginia. This week, I’m flying to Florida to celebrate her bachelorette weekend. He’s the last of us four siblings to get married.

And I just keep thinking: what if I hadn’t listened?
What if that story had ended differently?

But it didn’t. Because of God.
Because He spoke. And somehow, by His grace, I heard Him.

We All Have God Stories

Maybe yours doesn’t look like mine.
But I believe if you’ve walked this life with faith—even just a little—then you’ve probably got a God Story too.

Those moments that make you say: that could’ve only been Him.
Those quiet whispers that turned into miracles.
Those near-misses that ended with grace.

This is just one of mine. I may share more from time to time because they aren’t just stories—they’re reminders. Testimonies. That He is good. That He is near. That even when we don’t see it, God is still working behind the scenes.

This week at church, the message was simple but deeply true:
To know God. To love God. To serve God.

And honestly? That’s the heartbeat behind this story.
I know a God who speaks.
I love a God who protects.
And I serve a God who shows up—in poolside moments, in quiet whispers, and in ordinary days that turn out to be divine.

I try to live from a place of gratitude, even when life tempts me toward resentment. Because when I stop and look back, the thread of His faithfulness is everywhere.

So if I can leave you with anything this week, let it be this:

Be still.
Listen to the nudge.
Even when it feels small. Even when it doesn’t make sense.
Because that gentle tug might be God guiding you…
Protecting someone you love…
Or writing the very first line of your God Story.