The Fingerprints of God

There were moments in my life when death seemed closer than tomorrow. Yet every time darkness reached for me, God was already reaching for me first.

My name is Ruth Carroll, and when I look back over my life, I do not simply see the story of a woman who survived abuse.

I see the fingerprints of God.

As a little girl, life felt uncertain from the very beginning. My parents divorced, and by the age of seven, abuse had entered my life. A few years later, another abuser would continue what had already begun.

Yet even then, God was quietly drawing me toward Him.

At just five years old, I would walk by myself to a small church across the street. No one took me there. No one told me to go. I simply felt pulled toward that place. Looking back now, I believe God was planting seeds of hope long before I understood who He was.

As I grew older, the hardships continued.

When I was fifteen years old, a man forced his way into a car I was a passenger in.  With a knife pressed against my throat, he ordered my friend to drive.  Terrified, she obeyed.  Eventually he took us to a remote area where I truly believed our lives would end.

Yet somehow, I was released.

I cannot fully explain why.

I only know that God was there.

Years later, hoping to leave one painful chapter behind, I entered a marriage that became its own nightmare. For seventeen years, I endured emotional, psychological, and physical abuse. Fear became normal. Survival became my daily reality.

Yet even in those years, God continued to protect me in ways I did not fully recognize at the time.

One day, while my husband was involved in a drug deal, I wanted no part of it and planned to leave for the store. I headed toward my car, but a woman who was there suddenly suggested we take her vehicle instead.

It seemed like an insignificant change.

We climbed into her car, and within moments, a drunk driver slammed into mine.

The car I had intended to be sitting in.

The car I had been walking toward only moments before.

Had that woman not spoken up, had we left just a minute earlier, had I followed my original plan, I would have been in that vehicle when it was hit.

Looking back, I see more than coincidence.

I see God’s protection.

A quiet intervention that I would not fully appreciate until years later.

Then came the night that changed everything.

During a violent attack, my husband wrapped his hands around my throat and began to strangle me. As darkness closed in, I cried out the only prayer I could manage:

“Jesus, please.”

Not a polished prayer.

Not a long prayer.

Just two words.

Jesus, please.

What happened next changed the course of my life.

I escaped.

I made it to the rescue squad where I volunteered as an EMT. God had already positioned people there who would help save not only my life, but my future. Friends stepped in. Doors opened. Safety appeared where there had once been fear.

For the first time in years, I was free.

When I look back now, I see a pattern.

The little girl who walked into church alone.

The teenager who survived an abduction.

The woman spared from a collision she never saw coming.

The wife who cried out to Jesus while fighting for her life.

Over and over again, God was present.

Not always removing the trial.

But never abandoning me within it.

Today, I am an author, speaker, photographer, EMT, wife and mother. I have the privilege of sharing hope with others who are walking through darkness and reminding them that their story is not over.

People often ask me what the greatest miracle in my life has been.

It was not surviving the abduction.

It was not being spared from the drunk driver.

It was not escaping abuse.

The greatest miracle was watching God take a heart that had learned to live in fear and teach it how to live in freedom.

Because my story is not ultimately about what tried to destroy me.

It is about the God who never stopped pursuing me, never stopped protecting me, and never stopped redeeming what the enemy meant for harm.

What Satan intended to break, God transformed into a testimony.

And that, more than anything else, is my miracle.