Soaring Above All

By Genie Gore

This is a book that uses an incredible story of a traumatic event to show how God moves when we trust Him. This family walks through a car accident that threatens to claim the lives of a husband and daughter. God used this tragedy to show His power and love. Not only do you walk through the dark days of the aftermath of this accident, but you also see how to activate your faith through lessons learned. Scriptures and songs come to life as they are applied to the events in the hospital. We all walk through dark, stormy days. Come see how powerful God is and how His words can completely revolutionize your life events and pull you above it all!

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: May 19, 2015
• ISBN: 9781490872551

Genie Gore

Genie Gore is married with three grown children. Her husband, Dennis, has his own CPA practice and has received a master’s in business. Genie has been a fourth grade teacher for twenty-nine years in public schools and is in her fifth year of teaching in a private school. After living in the low country of South Carolina all her life, she loves hot weather and has the beach as her happy place. Her daughters are also teachers in the same district where they graduated and her son works in a neighboring school district from their hometown of Summerville, South Carolina. Genie loves children and draws strength from their enthusiasm and energy. Teaching Bible studies is one of her joys because she loves to open God’s words to others and apply it to their everyday living. She prays that this book will be a teaching tool to show how much God loves us and what He can do with ordinary lives. 

Book preview

Chapter 1

CLOUDS GATHER

I t’s a cool, sunny Sunday afternoon in March, and I’m preparing to go grocery shopping. My husband is leaving with Meghan and Melissa, our daughters, to take Melissa, the older of the two, to puppet practice. She’s an artsy child who loves acting and entertaining others. She’s expressive and keeps us laughing. She sees the joy in people, brings it out, and keeps the party going. She’s her own three-ring circus.

Meghan is totally different; she’s what we call deep water. She’s a sweet, gentle soul who loves to please and is constantly helping and encouraging everyone in the family.

The two girls join their dad in his midsize Cutlass Sierra and head across town to where the puppet ministry is practicing for the upcoming Easter program. Both girls are excited to leave. They give me hugs, and I give them kisses.

Chris, our son, has already left to practice with his tennis team at the high school. Chris loves sports. Though he’s just in middle school, he’s on the high school tennis team. He loves to be outside, even in hundred-degree weather, playing street hockey or any other sport with the neighborhood guys. He has a loving personality and a competitive spirit—he loves to succeed.

I arrive home at about two o’clock with ten bags of groceries and start hauling them into the house and putting the groceries away. To make the task more pleasant, I call my mom. We talk every weekend and enjoy giggling over the week’s events and solving all the world’s problems as well. It’s great when your mom’s your best friend. Mine knows just how to encourage and uplift my spirit.

Wailing sirens assault the peace of our neighborhood, but I plug one ear and concentrate on my conversation with Mom. We live near a hospital, so the siren sounds are not foreign to us.

However, after a few minutes, I realize something is very wrong. The sirens aren’t dying down. They’re multiplying. It’s odd enough that I mention it to my mom. Then I hear a helicopter traveling back and forth over my house. I look out the window, but I can’t see anything unusual.

Mom and I continue talking. We reminisce over some funny family stories and the antics of our crazy family. I hang up the phone, and I put away the last of the groceries.

As I start another chore, I hear Mom! The front door bursts open. Chris is screaming hysterically. It takes me a few seconds to understand what he’s saying. I ask him to talk, not scream, but he’s frantic.

There’s been a terrible wreck! I think it’s Dad’s car! I look into his crazed eyes and feel a knot in my stomach. Chris doesn’t usually react so strongly to events; he’s prone to take things in stride.

I begin to assure Chris that it’s not our car, but Chris’s usual cool attitude is gone. It’s clear he’s not going to leave this alone. He wants to go back to the scene of the accident. He urges me to grab the keys to the van. I try to calm him, telling him we can drive to make sure it’s not Dad’s car. I don’t tell him Meghan was with his dad, as Chris would be even more distraught. I can’t believe my youngest daughter might also be injured. I know that Melissa would have already been dropped off at her puppet practice at church. Dennis and Meghan would have been coming back home by now.

Chris and I race to the van.

Chapter 2

RUMBLING AND FLASHES

I fumble with the keys as Chris tries to tell me what he’s just seen. His words are surreal, hideous. This isn’t happening. There’s another explanation. There has to be.

My friend’s mom was driving us home when we saw tons of ambulances and fire trucks, Chris tells me. It looked like a car had been burned, and it was really banged up. One of my friends said the car looked like Dad’s and was laughing about it. I got a sick feeling in my stomach and couldn’t answer him. What if it is Dad, Mom? What if Dad was in that wreck? Chris laments with unusual-for-him fear.

I try to keep my heart and mind from drowning under the tidal wave of fear I am beginning to feel. Surely that wasn’t Dennis’s car. Dennis and Meghan were just going for ice cream like they always do. This is just a misconception. Weakness numbs my mind. Everything is surreal. I am having a hard time trying to talk to Chris.

When we arrive at the entrance to our subdivision, a long line of cars is waiting to be rerouted around an accident on Trolley Road in front of our neighborhood. Drivers at a standstill are frustrated and agitated.

Emergency personnel surround the front of our subdivision. I spot a burned car in the center of the intersection. Chris jumps out before I can put the van in park and runs to the accident scene. I scream for him to wait for me as I leave the van and enter the confusion and noise. Cars are stopped everywhere, and people are in groups gawking and talking about the accident.

The green area from the first street in our neighborhood to Trolley Road is about fifty yards long, but it seems fifty miles as I try to race; my legs are in slow motion. When I reach the entrance, I see my son, limp and seemingly lifeless, in the arms of a stranger, who asks if he’s my son. I numbly nod.

Your son fainted when he saw the license plate. He screamed, ‘That’s my dad!’

The man lays Chris on the ground, and he wakes up in a panic.

"Mom, it is Dad’s car! Look!" Chris grabs my hand and points.

Before I can stop him, he stands up and pulls me to the grisly scene. I feel as if he’s pulling me somewhere I couldn’t go on my own. The noises around me are amplified. The sights assault my heart beyond what I can endure.

I can’t believe my eyes. I’m looking at my husband’s car burned beyond recognition. My eyes focus on the hideous sight. I notice the driver’s side of the car has been crushed into the center console. In that instant, I’m sure I’ve lost my husband and pray I haven’t also lost my daughter. Horrible thoughts scream in my head. What are we going to do? How are we going to live with our family ripped apart like an old photograph?

I see policemen all around the car. They’re making orange marks on the pavement and solemnly writing measurements on forms on their clipboards. A policeman who notices Chris and me close to the accident area interrupts my dread.

Ma’am, you have to leave. We need to clear the site. We’re performing an investigation here, he says in a businesslike fashion.

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