An Angel Brought My Daughter Home

Hurricane Helene tore through our state, leaving devastation in its wake, particularly in Asheville, NC. Powerlines are down, water is scarce, and food supplies are dwindling. In the heart of that chaos is our daughter, Ziy, who is attending a university in Asheville.

As parents, the news hit hard. Fear tries to set in. How is she? Where is she?

But the storm had taken more than just power and water—it silenced communication too. The cell towers were out. All we had were a few scattered texts and fleeting 12-second phone calls.

That’s it.

Then, out of nowhere, we received a call from a strange number. It was Ziy. Her voice was shaky—she hadn’t eaten all day. Our hearts sank.

Reports indicated that no one could reach Asheville by vehicle. Roads were closed and GPS was down.

Despair began to creep in but Stacy had what I believe was a divine thought—a flash of insight straight from heaven. She remembered a friend whose husband’s brother lived in Asheville.

Could he help?

Without hesitation, we made the call. Stacy called her friend, who then contacted her husband, who in turn reached out to his brother. The brother’s name was Marcus. And, by the grace of God, he answered, because they had been trying to reach him all day. "I’ll help," he said without pause. "I’ll bring her home."

Questions instantly flooded my mind: Who is this guy? I don’t even know him. Will he take care of my daughter? How will he find her in all the chaos? How will they even connect?

He started toward the university, and we waited for Ziy to call back. Every moment felt like an eternity.

When her call finally came, we told her, "A man named Marcus is coming. He’s going to bring you home."

And then, silence. Two agonizing hours passed.

Finally, a text message appeared on Stacy’s phone. Marcus had found her. Relief washed over us. But the journey wasn’t over.

Three hours later, another message: “We found a way out of Asheville. We’re on our way to Charlotte.”

Glory.

Three more long hours passed. Then, headlights illuminated our driveway. I ran out. There they were. Ziy—safe, hungry.

And Marcus, the man who refused to give up. He refused to quit, even when the roads were blocked, even when the detours were closed, and even when the night seemed too dark to find a way. He kept pressing forward.

I rushed to thank him. His humility spoke volumes. I blessed him. I gave him some cash and I did not allow him to refuse. I offered him food, a place to stay for the night, but he graciously declined.

Marcus, in my eyes, was the embodiment of answered prayer. God moved through him, proving once again that He listens, that He cares, that He acts—even in the middle of a storm.

I want to remind you: your Father loves you. He hears your cries. He answers your prayers—even the ones that seem impossible.

Never forget that.