Sara's Story: Realizing God's Love
Sara Weaver's mother and brother were both killed during the tragedy at Ruby Ridge in August 1992. During the first ten years following Ruby Ridge, she lived in a deep and dark depression and was ripe for a rock bottom experience. When she finally hit rock bottom, At that moment, she met Jesus for the first time.
Soon after building and moving into my new home, and having my son, I felt I had achieved what I thought would fill the hole in my heart and satisfy my craving for normalcy. At last, I thought I had the dream most of us spend our lives striving for and I was expecting to live “happily ever after”. Instead, I was brought crashing down into the reality that the dream house, the husband with the great job, the beautiful little boy I had been blessed with, were not enough. Even losing my sixty pounds of pregnancy weight and regaining my thin figure was not enough to make me smile. All of my “if only’s” had been met. “If only I can build myself a normal life”, “If only I can get moved into the new home”, If only I can lose the baby weight”. If only, if only, if only.” I ran out of “if only’s”, but still, the emptiness echoed inside. I was still depressed. I was still filled with anxiety about the unknown. I was still constantly worried about my son’s safety and losing another family member. I was still insecure about myself and my appearance. And, I was still lonely in a room full of people. I had everything on the outside going for me, but on the inside, I was dying. I was at the end of my rope, ready to let go.
One day, completely exasperated, the husband with the great job, put a pen and a piece of paper in front of me. “Sara.” He said. “Write down what will make you happy.” I looked at him and I looked at the paper and terror gripped me. I had nothing to write. I was a writer and there was nothing I could think of to write down. This confirmed what I had come to believe. That there was something dreadfully wrong with me. That I was broken and I didn’t have the glue to put myself back together.
Mercifully, the God that I now know, the God that loves me and made me perfectly in His image, didn’t leave me there broken and alone. If He had, my ending might have been just another tragic story on the evening news. Another statistic chalked up to post partum depression, post traumatic stress disorder, or any one of the “posts” that had been the silent enemies lurking in the aftermath of tragedy and defining my life. No, He didn’t leave me. He came in the form of Maria. Maria was my best friend, before, during, and after the siege at Ruby Ridge. He came through her faith. He came through her conviction and boldness, her assurance of her own personal relationship with Him. “Sara.” She said. “I know Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior.” I just looked at her, shocked and stunned into silence. Where had this come from? I was the one raised on religion. She had never had any form of it. The powerful words that had just about knocked me out of my chair, were delivered by the one person that I explicitly trusted to be completely straight forward with me. Those words dogged me for the next few months, ringing in my ears, tapping me on my shoulder, chipping away at my resolve to stay far from God.