Good Morning sweet friends,  Promise On Page One coming up!  Lots of love, light and hugs. &, Uma           Promise on Page One   How did people here handle such terrible heat, Renee Smith mused on the morning of August 1, 1983, as she put her two little daughters into the car for a shopping trip. The Smiths had moved to Lincolnton, Georgia, from Franklin, North Carolina, a month ago, but Renee doubted she would ever get used to summers in the Peach State. Today was overcast, too, and gloomy, with water almost hanging in the air. Perspiration ran down her face as she buckled three-monthold Sarah into a little carrier seat in the front of the car, fastened fiveyear-old Jessica's seat belt, and pulled into traffic. "Are we almost there, Mommy?" Jessica asked from the back of the car as they drove the twenty miles to Thomson."Almost, honey." Renee passed a temperature sign. It was now 105 degrees. Renee pulled into the Kmart parking lot at 1 :35 P.M., turned off the engine, stepped out of her car, and started to pick up Sarah in her carrier seat, as Jessica exited from the other side. It was the last thing either of them remembers. Witnesses were left to reconstruct the event-a sudden pop! and a bolt of lightning striking the Smith car, springing off on both sides. One flash hitting Renee on the left temple, the other hitting Jessica in her left eye. Renee dropping the baby and collapsing into a puddle on the pavement. Jessica falling on the other side of the car ... A woman in a nearby car got out and ran to Renee. She began to pray over her. Although baby Sarah seemed alert and unharmed, Renee's eyes were rolled back in her head. There were no signs oflife. An off-duty medical technician dashed up. She confirmed that Renee's condition was grim. "No pulse, no breathing," the technician told the woman after a quick exam. "I'll start CPR-you keep praying." It began to rain, and the frantic Kmart store manager who had just arrived at the scene raced back inside to get blankets. A man parked in a pickup truck had seen the whole thing. He reached Jessica and began breathing for her. The little girl had no heartbeat either. Her shoes had been knocked off by the lightning, and were on the other side of the parking lot.   After about ten minutes, Jessica revived. "Where's Mommy?" she asked the worried man bending over her. "Your mommy's going to be fine, honey," he reassured her. But he knew as well as anyone in the rapidly forming crowd that Renee had been electrocuted, and had almost certainly died. The ambulance arrived, and all three victims were loaded onto stretchers. Personnel worked frantically on Renee as the vehicle sped toward McDuffie County Hospital in downtown Thomson. No pulse, no heartbeat. "Defib!" "Defib again--stand clear!" On the third try, some seventeen minutes after Renee had been struck, workers were able to restart her heart in an erratic beat, while a machine breathed for her. The ambulance crew looked at each other in despair. This woman was so young, and yet there was little hope that she would survive. Physicians at McDuffie agreed with the ambulance workers. An inch-wide burn mark went from the top of Renee's head down to her spine, melting her hair to her head. Bruises clearly marked her left temple, where the lightning had entered, and her left hand, where it had exited. Her eyes rolled around as if disconnected, with no focus. Since University Hospital in Augusta had a critical care unit, physicians decided to send all three patients there. But in their opinion, Renee had suffered irreversible brain damage, and was in a "nonrecoverable" state. While this was happening, people were trying to find Renee's husband, Fred, a telephone installer. When his supervisor finally located him, he told Fred only that Renee and the girls had been in a serious accident. Panic-stricken, Fred raced home to change his clothes, wet and muddy from the rain. He didn't even know where University Hospital was, he realized as he sped along-precious time was going to be wasted as he searched for directions. And how could he face what might have to be faced there alone? "God," he prayed, "send someone to come and be with me, please." Skidding to a stop in front of his house, Fred saw a man standing there--his new pastor, Mike McBride, from First Assembly of God in Lincolnton. "Someone just called and asked me to meet you," the pastor explained. "We thought you would want someone with you." "I do. Thank you." Fred was slightly relieved, but his anxiety continued. Renee, his daughters ... Love for them overwhelmed him. As the two men sped toward the hospital, Fred's panic suddenly receded. In its place he felt a profound sense of peace. Words came to him, from 2 Timothy 1: 7. "For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love and self-control." Fred would fight for his family with his love, standing on the promises of God. He looked over at Mike McBride. "I have a God Who heals," he said with determination. "He's going to heal my whole family." The pastor hoped so, and the two men prayed together as the miles sped past. But as they entered the emergency room, a nurse drew Mike aside. "I think you'd better prepare Mr. Smith," she murmured. "No one expects his wife to survive the ride from McDuffie. She's going to be dead on arrival." Fred remained steadfast, however, even when he was finally allowed into Intensive Care to see Renee. She had not been dead on arrival, but she was in an unresponsive state, on a respirator, and jerked constantly due to muscle spasms. She certainly didn't look healed. "If she survives," one physician explained gently to Fred, "she could have nerve damage, kidney damage, paralysis, muscle damage, seizures, memory loss ... " But Fred had made a decision to walk by faith, not by sight. And that marvelous sense of peace and love was still with him. As he left the hospital room, he ran into an Augusta Chronicle reporter roaming the halls, sent to write a story about what had happened. "God is going to heal my whole family," Fred told the reporter. "Put it on the front page." "But ... " The reporter was at a loss. Wasn't this man's wife almost dead? The reporter did. Another writer, from the Augusta Herald, picked up the same story. The entire community waited. A few days later, both little girls were sent home in good health. It was determined that the rubber in the infant carrier had acted as a shield, keeping baby Sarah from sustaining any injuries. And although Jessica had developed red streaks running up and down her body-possibly blood clots forming as a reaction to the heat-they had mysteriously disappeared moments later, after Fred had gone out in the hospital hallway and simply said, "God, You've got to do something." Renee remained in a coma. People all over Augusta prayed for her well-being, and prayer groups filled the hospital waiting room. At one point, while outside Renee's room, a man broke into tears. "Did you see them?" he asked those around him. "Three huge angels wearing gold and bronze ... they went through the wall into her room. They're doing battle for her life." No one else had seen his vision. But it was not hard to believe. Three days after being struck by lightning, Renee Smith awakened. "What did I have," she asked Fred groggily, "a boy or a girl?" "You didn't have a baby, honey," Fred answered, tears welling. "You were struck by lightning." "I can't see very well," Renee murmured. "Everything is so blurry." That didn't matter. Renee was talking, aware. Fred had already received his miracle. If the lightning had damaged her eyes, they would find the strength to deal with that. Then Renee remembered something-she had been wearing contact lenses when she was struck. Perhaps one of the doctors had removed them when she was unconscious. The doctors were horrified to hear this. Renee couldn't have been wearing the lenses, they explained. For if she had, they would have melted and blinded her. But she had been. The lenses were never found, and there was no damage at all to her eyes. And no permanent damage to the rest of her either.   "Aside from my feet being numb for a while and a reaction to some medication, I've had no side effects," Renee reports today. Dubbed Augusta's "Lightning Lady" by the Chronicle, she continues to be amazed and grateful at the blessings that have flowed from what appeared to be a tragedy. She is often asked to speak about her experience, and has made many new friends. Money to pay the family's medical debts is still being donated (because Fred had just taken a new job, the family had no health insurance); best of all, her miracle has built the entire community's faith. "Our lives are truly orchestrated by an unseen hand," she says. As for Fred, he's convinced that the faith he proclaimed so boldly had an influence on his family's restored health. "You never know what each day will bring," he explains. "But all things are possible if you believe."

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