I was just 7 when I almost died. I wouldn't say I grew up religious. I didn't go to church, and the extent of my religious study was watching Veggie Tales on Sundays, leading me to most of my childhood doubts. I was going through life how most children would, uncaring, unspoken, and unknowing. I viewed my life through rose-colored glasses and never saw the true meaning of life and why I was even living one.

 I grew up in an ice fisherman's home, so that led to most of my winter weekends spent cooped up in a small ice house on the lake. Don't get me wrong I loved ice fishing, but I loved the comfort of my own home a little more. We often spent our evenings in the ice house, making me even more excited to get home. Winters in Minnesota are bitter and some nights you could even feel the frostbit nipping at your toes. 

 I pleaded to my father to let us go home. With my dad's weakness of never saying no to me and my consistency, he packed us up and soon enough we were in my driveway unpacking. It was already dusk, I struggled to see my way to the door. I was eager to get inside, so I ran in before anyone could catch me. I was relieved to be inside; I was in my warm cozy home. I soon realized something was wrong, very wrong, but I didn't know what it was. It was dark, no lights were on. I hated being in the dark, it was my biggest fear. I stood in my snow pants, coat, and my dripping clunky boots. I was dreading what I had to do next, take it all off. 

I looked up at the toupe-colored light switch, and with a tremble, I looked away. “Why did I do that?” I wondered. I walked over to the bench and sat down. As a kid, as soon as I walked through my door I ran through my small house turning on every light insight, creating not even one dark corner. I wanted to turn on the light so I could see as I unlaced my boots and unbuttoned my coat. But I didn't. I sat there contemplating what I was doing while never looking away from the light switch. I was focused on it. I stood up and walked over to the light switch without shifting my attention. My finger was on the bottom ready to flip the light switch up and fill this dark space with the cool-colored light.  But I didn't. I stared at it. A voice told me I didn't need that light, and that I was fine without it. So I listened. 

I sat there in the dark, I was confused. Who was talking to me, and telling me not to flip that switch? I was more frustrated at myself because no matter how much I wanted to turn on that light I couldn't, something wasn't letting me. I was challenging every belief I already had. I started taking off my boots when my dad burst through the door to escape the stinging air. He smiled, happy to see me, but soon stopped in his tracks. The lights weren't on and I was in the house; he knew something was wrong. My dad looked even more confused than me. His confusion soon turned to worry. My dad screeched at me to get out of the house. I ran outside as fast as I could, but my dad never followed. I was even more confused now. My brother and mom were putting things in our garage which was separated from the house. They stared at me as I stared at my now bare feet, wondering what I didn't know, that my dad did.

My dad eventually came out of the house. His mannerisms changed, he didn't smile when he saw me this time, though he looked relieved. My dad was pale in the face like he'd seen a ghost. “Why didn't you turn on the light?” he asked me. I shrugged because I too was asking myself the same question. I wasn't sure what had stopped me so I didn't answer the question. I thought it was an innocent little voice in my head messing with me. It wasn't until after I heard what my dad said next that I realized what happened. My dad's voice shakes when he says “There was a gas leak in the house, if a light was turned on, the house would have caught fire and exploded.”. I sat there wondering what had just happened, along with every other decision I made as a kid. I thought, I should be dead, and my parents should be devastated, but I was alive and my parents were happy. I felt as though I didn't deserve it. 

It wasn't until that moment that I realized it wasn't any voice, it was God's voice keeping me from flipping that switch I had flipped thousands of times before. I realized that before this moment something was missing, something bigger than I ever was. My life completely changed from that point forward. It was like an omniscient wave had crashed over my clueless young body and helped me see clearly for the first time. It felt as though I was no longer going through life aimlessly, now I was guided and protected. That night I prayed harder than I ever did. I prayed to the God that I now knew there was. It felt like the world was just a little bit more colorful than the day before. I was grateful for every meal set in front of me. I was grateful for every morning I woke up, and every breath I had the privilege to breathe because it didn't have to be this way. I could be dead. I could have never lived a day past that night. I could have not woken up the next morning. I could have never gotten to eat another meal. I could have never made it to my 8th birthday, but because of God, I did. It took almost dying to see God's power, but at least I did.