Miracles in Michigan

In this powerful episode, Brandi shares her unforgettable experience of witnessing God’s hand during a tragic day in Grand Blanc, Michigan. Brandi’s story is a testimony of how God can bring light from darkness. She recounts the miracles that unfolded and the journey to finding peace when it felt completely lost. This tender story reminds us that even in life’s darkest moments, heaven is near and God’s love can bring healing to the heart.

Clickable links below

Go Fund Me for Brandi Hicken's family

Detroit Free Press 

Greg Mikat 

Go Fund Me for Craig Hayden

Obituary for Craig Hayden

Go Fund Me for John Bond

Obituary for John Bond

Go Fund Me for William Pat Howard

Obituary for Pat Howard

Go Fund Me for Thelma Armstrong

Obituary for Thelma Armstrong

The Power of Miracles by Russell M. Nelson

Detroit Free Press

Information on Victims

Stephanie VanWagoner- photographer

Transcript

Fair Use & Disclaimer
 This podcast episode may contain brief quotes from external sources, used in a positive and respectful manner for discussion, education, and commentary. These references fall under fair use as they are not used for commercial gain, do not replace the original works, and are presented with proper context and attribution.

The views and opinions expressed in this episode are our own and those of our guests. They do not necessarily reflect the official doctrine, beliefs, or positions of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

Transcript

Clare: Welcome to Sisters Latter-day Voices. I'm Clare.

Candice: And I'm Candice.

Clare: So today’s episode includes a discussion of a very sensitive topic—a tragic shooting that happened in Grand Blanc, Michigan. Our special guest, Brandi Hicken, lived through this experience with her family and has graciously agreed to share the miracles that followed. We’re so grateful for her courage and her faith to share her story. But before we dive in, we just wanted to ask a few lighthearted questions so we—and you guys—can get to know Brandi a little better.

Candice: We do this with any guest that we have on. So Brandi, what is a favorite movie or show that you like to watch?

Brandi: Well, I'm really into competition reality shows, so things like Big Brother, Survivor, Amazing Race—I'm all about those, and that’s pretty much the main TV that I watch.

Clare: Nice. I just started watching Amazing Race for this season. I love that show.

Brandi: That’s the one I got into kind of later of all the competition reality shows I’ve been watching. So I’ve just recently started it. But there are so many seasons—plenty of time to get caught up.

Candice: You’ll never run out.

Brandi: No way.

Candice: Okay, so what is a favorite food or snack that you have?

Brandi: I’m actually going to say my favorite—it’s not a snack—it’s Diet Coke. I know it’s not a snack; it sounds silly. Everyone that knows me knows that something as simple as a good, crisp Diet Coke can just make everything better and put a smile on my face. In fact, after the events that took place that we’re going to talk about, so many people know that about me that for the first several days after, I just had people showing up at my doorstep with a big fountain Diet Coke.

The next day, I probably had seven people drop a Diet Coke off throughout the day, and every single one of them was appreciated and not unwanted. I just had a steady stream of delicious Diet Coke—I didn’t even have to go out and get it myself—and it was just phenomenal. I have a sign in my kitchen that says Living on Love and Diet Coke, and after that week, that had never been more true. Diet Coke just sustained me through the week, and it was lovely. So that’s my comfort drink, and it replaces any snack that I like.

Candice: Nice. We love our drinks, so we totally get that. We each have our drinks that we always have to have. That’s really sweet that people brought that to you.

Clare: I live off of Diet Mountain Dew, but I love that everyone brought it and just knew exactly what could help.

Brandi: Yes, yes. And you know, chocolate too—I love chocolate. Any chocolate. So those two things are my always-go-tos.

Candice: Nice.

Clare: Well, we are kindred spirits. I love this.

Candice: Just so that people can get to know you and the phase of life that you’re in, can you share with us a little bit about what your typical schedule is or what you’re dealing with in your life right now?

Brandi: Okay, so I am just in full-time mom mode right now. My phase of life—I’m in the young mom phase. My kids are young, and we’ve just now entered into the world of starting different extracurriculars and sports. So we are, you know, practice every week, games, performances.

I stay home full-time with my kids, and I just love it. It’s so fun and so fulfilling, but also very busy and very exhausting. My husband is in his medical residency training, and we live very far from any of our family. So we’ve just gotten a super awesome, tight-knit community with our church people and our close friends here that have stepped in and become our Michigan family. So it’s really good.

Candice: That’s awesome. That’s very nice to have when you’re away from family, and it is a busy time of life. We’re both stay-at-home moms. Our kids are a little bit older than yours, but very busy—and residency is super busy too.

Brandi: Yes, yes. So that’s kind of why I brought up the support system we’ve built here that’s not our family, because oftentimes I need to rely on them to help me get from point A to point B or watch a kid here and there while I do different things. We’ve got it down now to a smooth system. I mean, it doesn’t mean it goes off without a hitch all the time, but yeah—we’re just full force going. It’s really fun.

Candice: Nice. Well, we are so thankful and honored to have you as a guest talking to us. We don’t want to take away from your message, so we really won’t be interrupting you too much. We’re going to let you share whatever you would like to share about the miracles that occurred in and around the event. So, sure—go ahead.

Brandi: Okay. Yeah. Well, thank you guys for giving me this opportunity. You know, I kind of debated what I wanted to share and if I wanted to share it. Something I’ve thought about in talking to different family members after this tragic thing happened—I’ve been hearing from family and friends in other states just kind of a newfound fear about going to church after what happened here. And that’s totally understandable. I feel the same way too.

So, for me personally, I find myself reflecting on all these miracles that I personally experienced that day, and those are really what are carrying me through—those and just the outpouring of love from everybody around the world. I just felt like it’s important for me to share some of the miracles I experienced because my goal is that it will give people hope and help them realize that it’s going to be okay. That doesn’t negate that it’s very valid to feel nervous and to feel scared, but these miracles for me have given me so much hope and peace. That’s what I intend for everyone that listens to this.

And you know, I’ve also heard so many different miracles from other congregation members—and those are not my miracles to share—but I personally experienced several, and I’m ready to share those. So I’m grateful to you guys for giving me the opportunity to do that.

When thinking about my miracles, I’ve been reflecting, and they didn’t even start just with that specific day. I’ve recognized miracles that were in the works even prior to this. So, the first thing I’ve thought about goes back to my husband being in residency.

When you’re in medical school, you have to decide what specialty you want, and you have to apply for and match into that specialty in residency. My husband knew since the day I met him—before he even started medical school—that he wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon. We went into medical school with that goal in mind, knowing it was one of the more competitive specialties. It was going to take extra work, extra studying, extra good board scores. So we put in the effort and all the work to try to get us to that point.

When match week rolled around, we were feeling really confident that we had put in enough work and sacrificed enough time so that he would be a qualified candidate to get into that specialty. And we got the email that day—and did not match into orthopedic surgery.

That was a really big crushing blow. I remember saying many prayers, trying to understand why we worked so hard and put in so much effort, and it just didn’t go the way we wanted. I just kept being reminded—it’s all in God’s plan. I may not understand it, I may not get it, but it’s all part of God’s plan, and I can accept that and be at peace. I might still be a little bitter along the way, but I can at least recognize that there’s a bigger reason, even if I may never know it.

In light of the events that happened, I can’t help but think back to how we got to where we are, because the fact that my husband matched into residency—he got a spot in emergency medicine here in Grand Blanc—that, to me, feels significant when I think about the events that took place on September 28th. That was, I feel, part of God’s plan, and it gave me a little bit of peace about why we ended up where we did.

I just think, you know what? Okay, I get it. We were where we were supposed to be, because I think my husband definitely did some very helpful things that day that he wouldn’t have been able to do if we were somewhere else. I’m sure it’s not just that alone—there are probably other lessons in there too—but that’s kind of my first miracle: just the timing and being in that exact moment, on that exact day.

Kind of going along with that, my husband was actually scheduled to work a shift that Sunday at eleven o’clock, so we drove two cars to church that day because he knew he’d be leaving early to go work his shift. He was watching the clock really closely that day because he was planning to leave the church at ten thirty. Everything started happening right at about ten twenty-five—just five minutes before he was going to leave.

That, to me, is one of my miracles, because I can’t imagine how I would have gotten out of there with my kids when I did—or how I did—without my husband. Being without him would have made it so much worse for me. So that was one of my miracles—just that five-minute window.

My next one kind of goes along with timing again. This one’s not as clear to me, but I just have to remember that God is in the details. This feels like one of those details that mattered, even though I can’t confirm it.

While we were sitting in sacrament meeting, we heard this big boom, which we now know was the pickup truck slamming into the front of the church. It took everyone a minute to figure out what was going on or decide what the next thing to do was. In my mind, I was thinking something structural was happening with the building—maybe the roof caving in or a water heater exploding or something.

At some point—probably just a few seconds, but it felt like a really long time in the moment—people started getting up and leaving the chapel. For me at this point, nothing felt super ominous. After speaking with my husband, he shared that same sentiment—at that moment, he also didn’t think anything really ominous was happening.

When we got up and were getting ready to go out of the chapel, my older daughter said to my husband, “What about the blankie? We’re leaving Blankie!”—that’s my younger daughter’s blanket. So my husband actually turned around and went back to get the diaper bag and my daughter’s blankie, and then ran back out.

When I say turned around, he wasn’t very far—we were just maybe a couple pews ahead. But that’s something that, now that we know what was happening, sounds really silly. We’re taught in drills and stuff: leave it, don’t go back for it, it’s not that important. So when my husband thinks about it, he’s like, “Man, why did I do that? I can’t believe I went back for that.”

But knowing what we know—me and my family—as soon as we exited the chapel, we were right in the line of fire with our attacker, and my husband actually looked over and saw him. It was during those moments, those couple of seconds, that my husband was shot with a bullet and my daughter was shot with a bullet.

When my husband got shot, it hit him in the back of the right leg. I actually didn’t even know he was hit until we were outside in the parking lot. When we got outside and were trying to figure out what to do next, I just heard my husband say, “Brandi, am I hit? I think I was hit. Look at my leg. Is it bleeding?” He was ahead of me, and I looked at his leg and saw—yes, absolutely—you were hit.

We think about that and we’re like, you know, that turning around and grabbing the diaper bag seems so silly. But after my husband was able to look at his X-rays and see just how close that bullet came to hitting his femur or the major artery in his leg—it was mere inches away. I just think, maybe if he hadn’t turned around for the diaper bag and had gotten out that door a second or two sooner, it could have been a lot worse.

So I consider that one of my miracles—or at least a reminder that God is in the details. Because he was hit where he was, he was able to keep running out of the church and not stop—and he was okay.

Going back to running out of the church—another one of my smaller miracles is that I was wearing some pretty big high heels that day, and I was carrying my little fourteen-month-old in my arms. I was running as fast as I possibly could, and I never once stumbled or got wobbly or felt like I couldn’t run as fast as I wanted to. Looking back, I think that’s pretty amazing—that I was able to do that in my high heels carrying my baby. I definitely know that it’s because, again, God was there in the details, and I had assistance.

After we got out into the parking lot, we ended up finding someone who was in their van and asked if we could jump in. So we jumped in their van and tried to figure out what to do next. Another little miracle, I think, that happened in that moment—I remember my husband picking up his phone, and he made a phone call directly to the ER that he works at.

Everyone else was calling 911, because of course that’s the most important thing. I was thankful people had the forethought to even call 911. But then, I was thankful that my husband had the thought to call the ER, because he called and said, “I’m Jared, one of your residents. There’s an active shooter at my church. I need you guys to spread the word. Get the hospital ready—you’re going to have lots of injured people coming in. You need to get the hospital ready.

Brandi:
And so he made that phone call, which was an important phone call. It wasn’t until later that I learned another one of the residents — we have quite a few medical residents in our ward who work at that same hospital — also made a call right after my husband did. That second phone call made by that other resident, they kind of said, that second phone call made us realize this is very serious and it’s actually happening. Not that they didn’t believe my husband, but when you get a phone call like that, you maybe don’t act immediately. You’re trying to make sense of it, like, “Wait, is that really what… what did he just say?”

Anyway, because of those phone calls going through, there was a press conference done by some of the program directors at the hospital afterward. They said those two phone calls bought them about fifteen to twenty minutes to prep. They had all the specialties — the general surgery team, the anesthesia team — all ready to go. They were fully equipped as soon as our injured victims started rolling in. They were ready. That seems very substantial and significant, again with the timing and just being able to have those two residents there at that time to make those calls. I think that became important for some of the victims that went to that hospital and were treated there.

When I was in that van — when my family jumped into that van — we were just in there for a couple of seconds before we began to hear gunfire. We knew at that time the attacker had come out and was continuing to open fire at us in the parking lot. Around that same time, I think my husband and I both noticed a woman from our congregation lying down just a little ways away in the parking lot. To me, she looked seemingly unconscious, and she was laying in a puddle of blood.

I remember my husband saying, “I’ve got to go help her. I’ve got to get out.” So he jumped out of the van. I remember being terrified — he jumped out, I could hear gunfire, and I thought, I’m going to lose him today. I’m going to lose him.

He helped lift this woman. There was a truck that had pulled up — one of our congregation members pulled her truck around to where the woman was lying — and they put the tailgate down. A group of them lifted her into the back of the truck.

After everything was over and my husband and I exchanged our versions of events, I told him how terrified I was that he actually jumped out of the van during that gunfire. He said, “No, that’s not how it happened. When I jumped out of the van, everything was already over. The gunman had already been killed.” I said, “No, I don’t remember it that way. I specifically remember there was still gunfire happening.”

We had this discrepancy in our timeline, and we just didn’t know whose version was right because they couldn’t both be true. Later, after talking to congregation members and viewing some body cam footage released by the police department, we realized there was gunfire going off when he jumped out of the van. In fact, you can see the truck in the body cam video that they lifted this woman into.

That was a miracle for him — one of his big miracles — because he was just able to tune that out and was given the courage to jump out during all of that. He didn’t even know. He didn’t remember the gunfire happening when he jumped out, even though it was right in the middle of everything. He said, “I don’t know that I would have had the courage to do that if I knew there was gunfire.”

It’s interesting because, with his line of work, he’s trained for this kind of thing, but it’s different when you’re actually in it — when you’re part of the mass casualty and not just the doctor responding to it. For him, that was a miracle, because he honestly doesn’t know if he would’ve been able to jump out and help if he’d realized there was still gunfire.

We found out later there were actually bullet holes in that truck they were lifting the woman into — the truck was being shot at as they lifted her in — and he just had no idea. There were about five or six members of our congregation helping lift this woman, and not a single one of them was hit or injured. That’s a huge miracle, knowing what we know now.

Another thing going along with that, my husband said that in his residency program for the ER, they’d just had a simulation training on mass casualties — literally about three months ago. He said, “I think that training kicked in, even though I was part of the mass casualty.” Another dear friend of ours, also an ER resident, same thing — they both just jumped in and started helping. My husband said, “Wow, that training must have really kicked in that we had just had literally months ago.” It was such a blessing that he was able to tune everything out and not realize they were being shot at when he jumped out of the van. That was a big miracle for us, and for him specifically.

Candice: Wow. That’s amazing.

Brandi: Yeah. I just remember realizing, the people in my van — my children and others — we said, “We need to duck, we need to duck.” It wasn’t until I started pushing my five-year-old daughter’s head down to help her duck that I saw she had been shot in her back. I didn’t know that up until that point. That was very alarming.

At that point, I had tunnel vision. All I could see was this huge wound on her back that was very scary looking. I shrieked and said, “Piper’s been shot!”

My friend was nearby, and her husband — another one of our resident doctors — was close, trying to help other people. She hollered at him to come over. He came to the van, took my daughter from me, laid her on the grass, and looked for an exit wound. He didn’t see one. He looked up at me and said, “She needs to get to a hospital right now.”

I felt so helpless because I knew the ambulances couldn’t get to us where we were, and I didn’t know what to do. That same friend’s husband went and found an officer for us, right in the middle of the chaos — one of my heroes. He brought an officer back and said, “We need help.”

The officer came to the van, asked if he could look at my daughter’s wound, and I said yes. He lifted her little dress and saw the wound on her back. I could see the huge concern on his face, and he said, “We’ve got to go. I’m going to carry her to the ambulance.”

I asked, “Is it safe? Are we safe?” and he just said again, “We’ve got to go.” So we went. He carried my daughter to the ambulance. I had to leave my other two small children with my friend, and that was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done — leaving my two babies while I went with the one who was injured.

The lady driving the van said, “We’re going to say a prayer.” She gave this beautiful prayer in the van. I don’t remember many of the words, but when I knew I had to leave my other two children, her prayer came back into my mind, and I felt at peace — that they would be okay and I could leave them. I was so grateful to her for thinking to say that prayer.

So I went to the ambulance with my daughter and the officer who carried her. When we got in, the paramedic — the third person now to look at her wound — checked it. They’re trained, they see this stuff all the time, but I could see the concern on her face. That made me so worried.

They decided which hospital to take her to. The one where my husband works was only a few minutes away but doesn’t have a pediatric unit. The other hospital had pediatrics and was a higher-level trauma center but fifteen or twenty minutes away. They finally settled on the one farther away.

When we arrived, they rushed my daughter into a room. The double doors opened, and there were probably twenty to thirty workers — fully gowned, scrubbed, ready to go, caps on. They said, “We’re going to take great care of her, but you can’t go any further. This is where we have to leave you. We’ll have someone escort you to a waiting room.”

I was taken to the waiting room, feeling so helpless, knowing my daughter was injured. After about fifteen or twenty minutes, a doctor came in to update me. They said they’d done all the imaging and a CT scan. There was no exit wound, so they expected to find a bullet or fragments — but everything was clear. No bullet, no fragments.

As medical professionals, part of their job is to have answers. I could tell they wanted to explain it, but I was just overwhelmed with gratitude that my daughter was okay. The relief I felt was indescribable. They gave me three possible explanations: maybe it just grazed her, maybe it was shrapnel, or most likely, the bullet ricocheted off something first and left a burn mark because it was still hot.

I didn’t even care what it was — I was just so thankful she was okay. But in the back of my mind, it didn’t make sense. I reflected on all those people — the resident doctor, the officer, the paramedic — all with concern on their faces. I just knew we’d received a miracle.

They took her to a recovery room, and she was eating a little blue popsicle, holding a stuffed pig they gave her. A nurse came in, and my daughter said, “When can I go back to school?” I just thought, How is this even real? We literally just received a miracle, and I don’t know how, but I was so thankful.

We got to leave the hospital that day. She practically skipped out, wearing her cute little pink high heels from church and a hospital gown because they’d cut her dress off. She had a smile on her face and was in good spirits.

Two or three days after the event, we were driving in the car, just me and my daughter. She said, “Hey Mom, do you want to know something?” I said, “Yeah, what is it?” She started naming specific ancestors and loved ones who have passed. One was my Grandma Heiner, who passed when I was in college. My daughter never met her. She said she felt my grandma protecting her and me that day. That was all I needed to hear to know it was a miracle.

That was so special — to hear my five-year-old girl say that. It was the biggest miracle we could have received.

Our miracles didn’t stop that day; they continued. The days and weeks after were a blur — so much going on. I just remember all the support and love we received from all over the world, from our community, and so many prayers.

When I was in the ambulance, I didn’t have my phone. I thought it was gone in the church fire, but my husband had gone back for the diaper bag — so it was there. I borrowed the paramedic’s phone to call my mom and let her know what was going on because when I looked out the ambulance window for the first time, I saw emergency vehicles as far as I could see — law enforcement, firefighters everywhere — and smoke billowing out of every church window. I thought, This might be on the news soon. I want to call my mom before she hears about it on the news.

So I called her using the paramedic’s phone, and from that moment on, we had people praying for us right away.

Brandi:
And I think that adds to our miracles—just us being supported and loved from the very beginning by all of our ward members, complete strangers, and people all over the world wanting to support us.

And just another kind of cool little thing—my husband contacted the woman whose van we jumped into that day. He reached out a couple days later and asked if she was okay with him coming over to clean her van and maybe pay for detailing, because my family and I had jumped in, and three of the five of us were bloody.

She messaged him back and said, “My husband and I went out there yesterday, and there’s not a single drop of blood in that van.” Which is another miracle—because how is that even possible? We just could not believe it.

One of the most tender moments I’ve had in the aftermath—well, I’ve had multiple—but some of the most touching ones have been the opportunities to share my testimony with people not of our faith at different community gatherings and vigils.

We had this sweet, kind police officer who carried my daughter to the ambulance. He stopped by our house a couple days later to check on her because he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. When he came by, I called her and said, “Piper, come here—someone’s here to see you.” She popped out from underneath my arm, and he literally cried.

He said, “She’s here. She’s not in the hospital? How is she here right now?”

I told him the story and shared the miracle she received. He said, “You’re right—it is a miracle. You can’t call it anything else.” He just kept saying, “I saw it. I saw it with my own eyes.”

And my friend’s husband, who had assessed my daughter that day, texted me and said, “That was a textbook bullet hole.”

It’s just been incredible to share our miracles in those little interactions, where I’ve felt impressed to share some personal details and have seen people’s hearts be touched. I don’t know what their religious beliefs are—or if they’re religious at all—but I’ve seen them be moved by the story of our miracle. That’s been a really special opportunity for me.

Recently, our community hosted a vigil for us, honoring our ward members, the first responders, and everyone involved. My family and I decided to go. While we were there, my daughter looked over at me and said, “Mom, I lost my peace.”

At first, I thought she meant “piece,” like p-i-e-c-e, so I asked, “Peace of what?”

She said, “My peace—the thing inside me that makes me feel happy and safe.”

That broke my heart. I realized she meant peace, p-e-a-c-e. As a mom, it was heartbreaking. We made it—we survived—but we are not through it. How is my sweet five-year-old daughter going to get her peace back?

I’ve been fervently praying to my Father in Heaven: please help my daughter and our family find our peace again, to feel safe again.

Just yesterday—or maybe the day before—a photographer named Stephanie Ray, who had photographed the scene with law enforcement’s permission, started releasing a few of her photos.

The first one I saw was taken inside our church. Everything around was completely burned—ashes everywhere—but perfectly in the middle of the rubble was a picture of Christ’s hand reaching up. It wasn’t burnt or damaged. I thought, Wow—that’s another sign that God was with us that day, and He’s still got us.

She released a few more photos, and as I scrolled, I came across a picture of a hymn book. The edges were singed and everything around it was burnt, but it was still mostly intact. I zoomed in and saw the hymn it was turned to—Master, the Tempest Is Raging. You could see the line “Peace, be still.”

I thought, That’s really cool. But it didn’t hit me right away how significant that line was.

Then, a few photos later, there was another hymn book—different one—but turned to the same hymn: Master, the Tempest Is Raging—Peace, be still.

I said, “Oh my goodness.” It felt like a personal message just for me—letting me know my daughter’s going to get her peace back, and I’m going to get mine too. It was overwhelming—another miracle, so personalized.

I honestly couldn’t believe it. I thought, There’s no way—she must have turned to that page before taking the photo.

So I reached out to her and asked, and she said, “I took every single photo exactly how I found it. I didn’t touch anything.”

That just solidified to me that God is in the details, and my daughter will get her peace back. All will be well.

Is it going to be hard, difficult, and scary to go back to church again? Yes. But I reflect on this experience and think—this did not ruin my faith. If anything, it made my faith stronger. I can’t deny these miracles—big and small—that I’ve seen and heard about. There’s just no possible way that after all of this, I could let my faith weaken.

It’s stronger than it’s ever been. And that’s something really special—to be able to say after something like this, my faith is stronger. I’m not saying I’m not scared—I certainly am—but it gives me hope. And I know we’re going to get through this, and we’re going to be okay.

Candice:
It’s incredible—so many beautiful miracles. Thank you so much. Before we end, we want to honor the victims of this tragic event. Four church members were killed, and we’re going to read their names and a few sentences from their obituaries.

Clare:
The first is John Bond, age 76. John was a Navy veteran, a lover of golf and trains, and always loved spending time with his family and grandkids. He was a devoted husband, father, and grandfather—a well-known and loved member of his family and active in his community.

Candice:
Next is Pat Howard Hughes, age 77. Pat had a curious mind and a passion for knowledge. He was an avid reader of nonfiction, a thoughtful writer, a student of the U.S. Constitution, and a lifelong learner. He found joy in music, cooking, gospel study, building a model train set in his later years, and sharing meals with his beloved wife. Pat was a family man—a pillar of strength, humility, and love to all who knew him. His legacy is seen in his children and grandchildren, in his example of discipleship to the Savior, and in his devotion to truth, faith, and family.

Clare:
Thelma Armstrong, age 54. Thelma was a wonderful woman and a beautiful soul. Everyone who met her was touched by her love. Though we may have lost her, she will always be with us as we emulate her kindness, love, and compassion. A woman of deep faith, Thelma was a convert to The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in 2011. She raised her two children on her own in a Christ-centered home that was open to anyone in need. Her love for the Church began the moment missionaries knocked on her door. She felt an instant connection when she saw their name tags bearing the name of Jesus Christ. From that day forward, she loved every missionary who visited her home, stayed in touch with their families, and earned the title of “Missionary Mother.” Her faith was unbreakable, regardless of the trials she faced, and she loved everyone with the unconditional love she knew her Heavenly Father had for her.

Candice:
And last, we have Craig Hayden, age 77. Craig served in many callings in the Church, including bishop, Young Men’s president, and Scoutmaster. He was devoted to his family, always coming to the aid of friends and offering an ear to anyone who needed to talk. Craig was a pilot who loved playing guitar, rooting for the Detroit Tigers, and spending time with lifelong friends. He will be remembered as a man of quiet courage, patience, understanding, and kindness to all. A family member said, “Our eyes are heavy from the tears. Our hearts are deeply sad for our loss in this life, but our hope is in the truth that families can be together forever. This is not goodbye forever—this is goodbye for now.”

When I was researching this story, I came across something the police chief said: “This was an act of evil, but everything that needed to happen did. Everybody showed up and did what they were supposed to do. We prepare in peace to perform in chaos.” He went on to say, “I saw it live yesterday morning on a bright, sunny day when people went to worship. Every level of law enforcement worked together for the good of the people. What I witnessed was people putting their lives at risk—brand new EMTs, veteran firefighters, and law enforcement officers—all bringing stability to a chaotic scene.”

He also said, “There are noble heroes who do not wear a uniform—those who went to that church yesterday. Those heroes from that church did their job.”

It was a horrible event, but so many people were selfless and brave. Your husband stayed behind, even after being shot in the leg—that’s incredibly noble.

Brandi:
Yeah, I realize I kind of left his story out.

Candice:
You were talking about your miracles—but that’s really brave, you know, to have your daughter on the way to the hospital, to be injured, and still stay to help.

Brandi:
Yeah—and I’m glad you mentioned that and quoted those messages from the police chief. I can attest to that. So many brave ward members that day—every single person did something incredibly brave and put their life on the line for someone else. There were people putting themselves in the line of fire to protect my husband while he helped others who were injured. The list just goes on and on of the amazing acts that day—from law enforcement, first responders, and ward members. There were so many heroic acts. So yes, I really appreciate you taking the time to mention that, because it’s absolutely true.

Candice:
Thank you to everyone who acted so heroically that day. Before we end, we want to mention that we’ll include links to everything we researched and to the GoFundMe pages for those affected.

We’ll close with a quote from President Russell M. Nelson, followed by a letter written by Brandi’s husband.

President Nelson said:

“Seek and expect miracles. Moroni assured us that God has not ceased to be a God of miracles. Every book of scripture demonstrates how willing the Lord is to intervene in the lives of those who believe in Him. He parted the Red Sea for Moses, helped Nephi retrieve the brass plates, and restored His Church through the Prophet Joseph Smith. Each of these miracles took time and may not have been exactly what those individuals originally requested from the Lord. In the same way, the Lord will bless you with miracles if you believe in Him, doubting nothing.”

And now, Brandi, would you like to read what your husband wrote?

Brandi:
Yes, I would. My husband wrote this about a week after the incident, and he gave me permission to share it today. It’s so beautiful and echoes how I feel—but he says it much better than I could.

He wrote:

“One of my favorite experiences since last Sunday occurred two days later. We were able to gather with our congregation, along with one of the apostles, Elder Bednar. Although it was cool to have Elder Bednar there, it was honestly more special to see all of our friends again. During this gathering, we stood and sang the hymn It Is Well with My Soul.

This in and of itself was very special—to stand and sing those words together, despite what we had experienced. One line of the song really stood out to me. The line starts with ‘my sin,’ but in my mind, this read ‘my grief.’ The line says, ‘My grief, not in part, but the whole, is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more. Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul.’

Christ has suffered for us. Through His Atonement, we can find peace. As I’ve reflected on the events of that day, I’ve been surprised by how little animosity I feel toward our attacker. He tried to kill us. He hurt us. He hurt our friends. He took the lives of several wonderful individuals. But I find myself thinking about how empty his soul must have been—how little he allowed Christ’s love and light to guide his life.

I’m grateful that we have felt God’s love so abundantly this week. I know Christ has borne so much of my grief, making the load on my shoulders much lighter.”

Candice:
That is beautiful. Thank you, Brandi, for sharing your experience with us. And we always like to end by saying—we hope you know that God loves you. Bye.