Robin Hardy Online

Because Robin's books contain depictions of spiritual warfare, this reader sent us her personal account of her encounter with the supernatural. We have changed names and edited out identifying details, but the story is true.

Looking back on things now, it's easier to piece everything together.  I suppose it all truly started when I was a little girl.  My family attended [name deleted] Christian Church and around the time I was ten, the elders brought something to the attention of the congregation. Apparently they had found traces of pagan ritual activity in the wooded area around the church. They said they would be looking into it, but nothing more was ever said about it that I know of. . . . [There followed a period of infidelity and financial shenanigans on the part of the staff which created severe divisions in the church.]

Fast-forward about ten years now.  Paul and I were happily married and living in our own little humble home.  It just so happened that this cozy little home was right in the shadow of my old childhood church and the wooded area surrounding it. From the pink bedroom, I could look out the back window and see the flags and steeple of the church illuminated at night.  I used to sit there and ponder why everything went so terribly wrong.

 After a year of marriage, we decided we were ready to try for a family. I dropped out of college to brace myself for the battle ahead. Paul and I got engaged at 18 – right out of high school – and one of the hardest things I had to do was tell him that I might not ever be able to give him children. We had only been engaged a month so I said he was free to break it off, but he just sat there for a moment then looked me in the eye and said, "I really want to have children with you, but I just want to be with you more."

 At 19 I went to the doctor for my very first exam and got confirmation that getting pregnant wasn't going to be a walk in the park.  The doctor sent me up to another floor to get blood work done and I just sat there while the tech made small talk as he drew the blood. All I remember is thinking, How can this be happening? I'm young and athletic.  Infertility is supposed to happen to women who pursue a career first and put off childbearing until 35.  This isn't supposed to be happening to me. . . .

So then at 21, I sat in the doctor's office for my annual exam and told the doctor that Paul and I were looking to try for children.  Knowing my history, he said simply, "If you haven't conceived in 3 to 4 months, come back in and we'll start you on fertility drugs." I went home and rather numbly related to Paul what the doctor had said. We both agreed that 3 to 4 months wasn't enough time to really give it a decent shot. We decided we could try a pill called Clomid because all it did was replace some hormones my body wasn't producing naturally.

But I kept getting ahead of myself.  What if the Clomid doesn't work?  The next step would be a two-part injection called Pergonal – the kind of drug that produced the famous septuplets in Des Moines.  It was so tempting to think that maybe if the Clomid didn't work, we could scrape up the money to try one round of Pergonal. But every single time I started thinking along those lines, that still small voice inside of me piped up to say, Do not put the Lord your God to the test. I knew exactly what that meant.  The standard procedure for high-risk multiples is selective reduction and that was completely unacceptable.  Paul and I would never be able to live with ourselves if we sacrificed some of our children so that a couple of them might live.  We'd have to try to carry all of them and pray for the best.  I'm pretty small so I knew the Lord was telling me that he could carry all of us through and give us the fairy tale ending, but by no means was He required to do so.  All of our babies and/or I could die, and He would still be no less God, so don't test Him.

 So we decided that our last resort would be Clomid, but we still weren't ready to try that.  I floundered around a bit bewildered and very unhappy.  Why was this happening to us? My mom kept telling me to look at Rachel and Sarah and Elizabeth – how the Lord had blessed them. By that point I was pretty bitter. I would sharply remind her that Sarah had been given a promise and that I had no such promise. Sarah had Isaac, Rachel had Joe and Ben, Hannah had Sam, Elizabeth had John, but where was my happy ending?

I foolishly thought that if God would just tell me why He didn't want me to be a mother, I would understand and accept it. He just met me with silence. I began to get angry and that posed another problem.  I thought that "good girls" weren't supposed to get angry with God, but none-the-less I was, and I couldn't hide it from Him.  After all, He knows my thoughts before I speak them.  I had heard that if I had the faith of a mustard seed I could move mountains. Well, I had faith. God's own Son was born of a virgin, for crying out loud! I absolutely knew, without a doubt, that God had the power to create life where no life was possible. But apparently He didn't seem all that anxious to move on my behalf. That angered me and I couldn't help myself, it seemed.

 I became an empty shell.  I still went to church every Sunday, but I wasn't really there. It was just for show.  I stopped reading my Bible. I stopped praying. The first incident I remember was really quite benign. I suppose if they had started out maliciously I would have caught on too quickly.  It seemed a little like putting a frog in a pan of water and turning up the heat slowly so he doesn't notice he needs to jump out.  They needed to acclimate me first.  Demons are tricky.

 Paul was bringing groceries in from the car and I was in the kitchen putting them away.  I put a loaf of bread on the counter top while I cleared a space for it in the fridge.  I turned to retrieve the bread and it was gone. I asked Paul if he had moved it and he said he hadn't.  I tore through the sacks, all over the kitchen, even the trunk of the car.  That loaf of bread was gone.  I thought I had lost my mind. When I had finally given up, I happened to look up at the top of the fridge. There was that loaf of bread.  I never put anything on top of the fridge because I'm short and I never notice anything up there.  I grilled Paul, asking him if he'd happened to place it up there and forgotten. He insisted he hadn't. I tried to just shake it off as a fluke, but I just KNEW I hadn't put the bread up there.

I can't remember the exact order of events but lots of bizarre stuff started happening. Paul had a particular computer game he played a lot.  It had quite distinct music and sometimes we even played it together. One Saturday, Paul told me he was going to change the oil in his car then we'd spend some time together that afternoon.  I was doing some housework and suddenly heard the music for that game in the computer room.  I was livid.  We were supposed to spend some time together and here he was playing computer games.  But I tried to keep my cool.  I didn't want to be the nagging wife. I'd wait for him to decide to come to me on his own. Probably half an hour later, I couldn't stand it anymore and stuck my head in the room to find it empty.  I checked the bathroom – empty.

I went down to the garage and found my wonderful husband covered in oil muttering how an oil change was never supposed to be this difficult. I told him I was surprised he was still working on the car and laughed that I had gotten angry thinking he had started playing on the computer. He looked at me in surprise because the garage was right underneath the computer room and he had heard the music too. He thought it was odd that I would be playing it by myself.  I told him I hadn't been on the computer at all.  I ran back upstairs to examine the computer more thoroughly. The game was completely up and running and it freaked me out.  You have to navigate through several screens and type in some info before you can get to the game itself.  That's the first incident where I remember thinking we might dealing with something demonic.  I timidly told Paul what I thought, but he seemed to think it was probably nothing.

 One night we were settling down in bed when we heard some sound or another come from the computer.  We thought it was weird, but Paul just went and put it on standby for the night.  He came back to bed and the computer came on again. We joked that it must be faulty wiring.  Our house was built in 1948 and none of the outlets were grounded. But in my gut, I just knew it was bigger than that.  He got up and this time turned the computer off completely. As we settled back in bed for the third time, we heard the start-up music play on the computer.  I about came unglued and asked him if he thought it was possible we might really be dealing with demons. Paul merely thought that it was strange and patiently got up to shut the computer down yet again. He came back to bed and informed me that he had unplugged the computer from the wall. He teased that if the computer came on now, he'd know it was demons.  It didn't.

We had a black cat named Sampson who wanted nothing more than to be loved. We also had a white cat named Kaya.  They produced a lovely little white kitten with a black spot on her forehead. A couple weeks after his daughter was born, Sam started acting sickly and we began to worry over him.  It was getting close to Halloween and the humane society was doing their annual report on the news about not adopting out pets at that time of year to ensure that they won't get abused for either imitation or actual pagan rituals. They said to keep all small pets inside as well, especially black cats. Both our cats were always indoors. But every year we also bring in our three dogs for the night just to be extra careful. I was starting to get frazzled knowing that there had once been pagan activity near the church and our Sam was pure black.

Halloween fell on a Sunday that year and that morning we couldn't find Sam anywhere.  We had been keeping an eye on him since he was sick and we finally found him under the recliner in the living room. He was barely responding and only faintly meowed when I dragged him out from under the chair. I called over to church and told my mom we were taking Sam to the animal hospital. I held him in my arms all the way to the hospital and he died on the exam table just minutes after we arrived.  The vet said his kidneys had stopped working and his internal organs shut down one by one.  I started to wonder why my sweet, loving, black cat had died on Halloween morning. He was only 18 months old.

We decided to keep his daughter and named her Hannah.  She was a typical playful kitten.  But after a few months we knew something was wrong. She was completely anti-social.  We would barely go past her – not even touching her – and she would turn up her face and hiss at us. She would direct unearthly growls at us and, looking into her eyes, I knew she was possessed.  Paul would pick her up to pet her and she would dig in her claws and drag them, drawing blood. Paul was completely fed up with her.  He wanted to turn her over to the humane society.  I angrily told him that we couldn't do that.  She wasn't adoptable the way she was and they'd destroy her.  She was my last connection to Sam and I wouldn't give her up. I told Paul it wasn't Hannah's fault she was possessed.  He looked at me rather dubiously. But I told him that when Jesus had driven the demons out of the wild man, they specifically asked to be cast into the pigs.  There was proof that demons could possess animals.  I told him to just leave her alone and I would look after her. She scratched me viciously too, but I didn't blame her for that.

I felt convinced that we were dealing with a demonic presence, but I had absolutely no idea what to do. I began to get depressed and suicidal. Driving down the road, I wondered what it would be like to slam my car into a pole or over a bridge. Then I would sarcastically think to myself, You'd probably survive it. I told my thoughts to Paul because I was scared of what I might do and I needed him to keep an eye on me. One morning I woke up early and wandered around the house in my nightgown and greasy hair.  I kept going into the pink bedroom to stare at my sewing shears.  I was so tempted to stab myself or slash my wrists, or something.

Paul woke up a little later and found me in the living room with the scissors in my hand.  I told him what I was thinking. He was running late to work, but I must have had an alien look in my eyes because he was totally unnerved. He called in to work saying he woke up late and would be in soon.  Then I followed him around the bedroom while he got dressed so he could talk to me. After he was ready to go, he sat and held me and rocked me.  I kept telling him to go to work and that I'd be fine, but he didn't leave until an hour later and even then I think he was uncomfortable leaving me alone.  Later he related that he didn't know what to do.  If someone broke into our house he would do anything to protect me, but no one tells you how to protect your wife from herself. I refused to get professional help because I was afraid that having a record of depression and suicidal thoughts would make us unsuitable for adoption. I didn't want anything to close off that final option.

I wanted to die, but I couldn't kill myself because I knew that Christ had purchased me at the cost of His own blood. To kill myself would mean I was a thief stealing a life He intended to use on this earth for His purposes and glory. I guess that shows that He never let go of me. He was still relentlessly pursuing me even as I was blindly running around aimlessly, consumed by pain.

 I'm not sure if Paul finally conceded at this point that something was going on here on not.  I do know what officially confirmed it for him, however.  At this time, he was still in the Army National Guard.  My weekend warrior was headed off for duty and had to drive an hour and a half to the armory.  Of course, he had to report first thing in the morning meaning he had to leave our house long before sunrise.

He had his BDU's on and was ready to go but couldn't find his car keys.  He never loses his car keys. We both started tearing through the whole house. I kept asking him where he thought he might have left them last.  They were nowhere to be found.  Paul hardly ever panics, but that morning he was frantic. If he reported late, he was so screwed. I started praying for the first time in over a year. I told the Lord that I knew we had no hope of finding those keys unless He directed us to them. I told Him I knew He knew just how badly Paul needed those keys. Then Paul found them.  He had no idea why he thought to look where he did, but he did and he found them. 

They were in the pocket of one of his army jackets hanging in the back of the closet.  It was summer and it was in one of his spare winter jackets that he hadn't worn in over a year. There was NO WAY he had put the keys there.  I asked him if he finally believed we were dealing with demons.  He didn't say a word but paused to look me straight in the eye with deadly seriousness, and I knew. The sun was already up when he blew out the door.  I've never asked him how fast he drove that morning and I don't think I want to know. His wife was covering him with prayer, though, and he managed to report for duty on time.

 It felt good to pray again. I hadn't even realized what a hole was there until I started trying to fill it again. Over the next several days I started feeling better. A wonderful couple at church invited Paul and I, my sister, and my parents over to their house for weekly Bible study.  I started opening up my heart more at church as well. But then the depression – which had been coming in waves – hit me once more with great ferocity.  It was late at night and we were sitting in the kitchen.  I just remember being so sick of being depressed.  I didn't want to feel like I had nothing to live for anymore. I remember leaning over the sink, bracing my arms on the edge, and weeping bitterly.  I prayed asking the Lord to make it all stop.

I started thinking about why there was even such suffering in the world to begin with.  And He took me back to the tree in the garden - the first sin – Adam and Eve's fall.  Ever since then Satan has been roaming the earth looking for men to devour.  Then I stopped crying and was filled with rage. I screamed into the air, "I hate you, Satan! I hate you!" Paul was leaning against the counter top and watched me but didn't attempt to interfere.  I straightened up off the sink and felt a presence at the north end of the kitchen by the table. I wasn't thinking about what I was doing at all.  I just shouted, "You know what, you don't even have any power." 

I started boldly charging the presence in the corner and I felt it start to shrink back. I can't remember my exact words, but they were pretty close to the effect, "In fact, you KNOW you've already been defeated. Ever since Christ died on the cross you've been running scared.  'Cause you knew it was already over when He was raised from the dead proving He was the Son of God.  You know your days are numbered because He's coming back and you're just trying to take as many souls with you when get thrown into hell.  But you're not taking me! Now get out of my house!" 

There was a sliding glass door to the backyard right by the table and I sensed whomever, or however many there were, flee. I stomped out of the kitchen and passed Hannah in the hallway.  I shouted, "And get out of my cat!  You leave her alone. She's God's creation, too." I collapsed in the living room and realized that in the span of just a few minutes I was completely drained. Paul followed and just looked at me.  He confessed later that he thought I was losing it.

 Very shortly afterward, I was at Bible study at our friends' house with my sister. Paul was working late and for some reason my parents couldn't make it. Somehow I felt completely comfortable enough to relate my story. The couple gaped at me and said, "Do you know that you rebuked the Devil?"  I was stunned to have someone point that out to me and thankful that they so readily believed me.  My sister remained very quiet that night, if memory serves me right. The truth is, I didn't have any idea what I had done.  I was working off of pure emotion and leaning completely on the Lord.  It wasn't until then that I realized what had happened and I never thought I would be capable of that. I don't even know that I would be able to do it again.  I'm so afraid I'd be so puffed up with pride – look at me, look at what I can do, aren't I special – that it wouldn't be effective. I just try to remember not to let Satan have that foothold – keep Christ centered in my life – so I won't have to go through that ever again.

We later sold our first house to a nice couple with a young toddler and purchased our current home.  We were both so glad to move out of there.  Our Bible study friends decided move back to Oklahoma and I miss them so much. Then the pastor's wife and my sister invited me to join a study with them.  It was there that I realized that it's not only about having the faith that God can do something for you.  It's about choosing to let God be the Lord of your life and trusting Him to deliver the very best for you. I finally learned that I might want to have children of my own, and that's a valid desire. But the Lord knows what's best and He wants to give it to me. After all, Jesus prayed in the Garden for the cup to pass from Him if it was possible.  But finally said, "Not my will but Thine be done."  My plan was to have biological children, but I finally agreed that I would much rather have the Lord's plan fulfilled in my life. His plan was going to be far better than mine.

 Paul and I took a leap of faith and painted the nursery a soft pale green and pasted up a Noah's ark wall border in February 2002. I laughingly told him that if we didn't have children of our own now, we definitely had to adopt.  In March, I prayed for the Lord's will, not mine, to be done in my life. And I can honestly say for the first time I believed I would have a joy-filled life, even if it was childless, if that's what the Lord decided was best for us.  Then I called the doctor and set up an appointment to see about our last ditch effort – the fertility drug, Clomid.

But I couldn't get an appointment to see him until April 30th. It was maddening having to wait a month for my appointment because I'm naturally so impatient to begin with.  Then on April 19th, Paul asked me to take a home pregnancy test.  I didn't want to take it because I had taken so many over the past 3 years only to be sadly disappointed.  At his insistence, I finally took one and couldn't believe my eyes.  I came out of the bathroom crying and whispered, "We're pregnant."  Paul held me and said in my ear, "I thought you were."  We fell to our knees on the floor and gave thanks right there. In fact, we were so overwhelmed by emotion it didn't even resemble much of a structured prayer.  It was more "thank you Lord" over and over again. Sometime I wonder if He isn't more pleased with those prayers that stem directly from a purely grateful heart anyway.

 I called the doctor's office and got the pleasure of switching my scheduled consultation over to my first prenatal appointment!  On December 5, 2002, our daughter, "Faith" was born – healthy and whole.  When she was only 7 months old we unexpectedly found out we were pregnant yet again.  And here I had thought we would never be blessed with one child, let alone two. On April 14, 2004, our second daughter, "Grace," joined the family. And as for Hannah, she's five years old now and as ornery a cat as ever. She still isn't real fond of people and will occasionally hiss at Paul, but she adores me.  I'm the only person who can usually get her to purr and part of me wonders if it isn't because I was the one who wouldn't give up on her way back when.

Hannah

Back to Meditations

back to top