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Praying! That's the cause of this mess. I prayed to get Dad's attention, but this wasn't much of an answer. You can't get someone to listen if they're dead.

But as I left the office, in between the questions in my head, I did pray: "God, where are you in this? Please, you can't take him, not yet!"

The drive north to Edmonton took almost three hours, including the stop to pick up my grandparents. The car was so quiet. No one said Dad would be okay, and I knew why. No one expected him to survive. I noticed Grandma was praying, and I desperately began bargaining with God.

As we walked down the corridors of the city hospital, I felt like I was about to be read a death sentence. Finally, I saw my mother. We ran to each other, embraced, and cried. She'd been crying a lot, I could tell. But she also had a peace I could sense but couldn't understand.

"Mom, what's going on? When can I see Dad?"

"He'll be in surgery for at least four hours. You won't be able to see him until after that." She then told me the story.

Dad and Roy had split up to flush out moose on our property. Roy thought he saw one in the willows as he headed back to the meeting point around daybreak. He observed the movement for several minutes, believed it to be a moose, and fired. He hit my father, who'd been hiding in the heavy brush.

When Roy found him, Dad told him to get the three-wheeler (all-terrain vehicle), which Dad then rode to the truck. They headed for the local hospital, where he received blood transfusions to stabilize him before being sent to Edmonton. It was too cold (below 0 degrees Farenheit) for the emergency helicopter to fly, so he was taken by ambulance. On arrival he went immediately into emergency surgery.

"April, honey, God has given me peace," Mom said. "Now we must pray he'll give you peace no matter what happens."

As soon as we started praying, an overwhelming peace did fill me. I knew my dad would be okay. It was as if God said, "You put your Dad's situation in my hands, now don't try to take it back." Even my anger at Roy dissolved, and just in time.

Minutes later, Roy walked through the door. His fear and anguish were obvious. I hadn't considered how he must have felt after shooting his friend. And now he was facing his friend's family. How courageous! God's strength enabled me to walk up and hug him.

"I'm sorry," he whispered in my ear. "I just … "

"It's okay. Everything will be okay. We are going to witness a miracle," I said.

The operation lasted five hours. The doctors didn't offer any hope and were surprised he made it through the surgery. The surgeon spoke of complications, tremendous blood loss, damaged liver, pancreas, and gall bladder. The first 24 hours were critical.

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