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had been living in a toxic roommate situation after giving up my apartment to move in with a guy who convinced me it would save money and be a better situation. Unfortunately, things quickly became unbearable, and I felt constantly threatened. If things didn’t go his way, he would threaten to throw me out onto the streets. Despite my better judgment, I had a feeling he’d use this power over me, and I couldn’t wait to escape.
When I finally found a cute little apartment in Long Beach, I was so excited. It was exactly what I needed—charming, quaint, and affordable. I got approved for it and went to the bank to get the check for the deposit. I was ecstatic. But as soon as I got into my car to drive to the apartment, something strange happened: my hands froze to the steering wheel, and I couldn’t move. I couldn’t understand what was happening, especially since I was so excited about the new place. I even called my friend, telling her, “I’m stuck here!” She reminded me of how badly I wanted to leave, and of course, I did, but I still couldn’t move.
I ended up calling the roommate I was living with at the time, explaining what was going on. He told me to just take the check back into the bank and not go. At the time, I didn’t know why, but I did as he said, and I returned the check.
The very next day, my father was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. I spent the following weeks by his side in the hospital, where his condition deteriorated, and we eventually transitioned to hospice care. He passed away shortly after.
Looking back, I realize that something greater than me was at work that day, preventing me from moving forward with my plans. That apartment, while perfect in so many ways, wasn’t meant to be. God had another plan—one that kept me by my father’s side until the very end. In hindsight, that moment of being “stuck” was nothing short of a divine intervention and a miracle of sorts.
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