“The LORD shall preserve thee from all evil: He shall preserve thy soul.”
— Psalm 121:7 (KJV)
This reflection is part of my weekly meditation on Psalm 121:7. I think this verse has been following me for years. I can understand why. There’s a story I’ve never fully told, one that changed the direction of my life and now I know quietly shaped my understanding of what it means to be preserved.
🏢 The Flat
Our first flat was small and cosy, just one bedroom that my daughter and I shared, a small living room, a kitchen, and a bathroom. It felt like the perfect beginning. A little pocket of independence. Close to work, close to the nursery, out of my mum’s house, but also close enough to pop over when I needed to.
For a short time, I enjoyed the freedom of having a space that was ours.
🎃 Halloween
Then everything changed.
It was Halloween. My daughter was asleep, and my boyfriend and I were winding down for the evening when his friend and girlfriend came by. Before they came upstairs, my boyfriend went down to the car to show his friend a biker jacket he was trying to sell. Our flat was on the first floor, with the front door opening straight onto the staircase.
I heard raised voices outside, sharp, unfamiliar. I paused, trying to make out what was being said.
A man in a balaclava appeared in the doorway of the living room.
He moved toward me.
I saw the gun in his hand.
As he came closer, pointing it at me, I fell backwards into the armchair. More voices followed. They brought my boyfriend upstairs, and I heard him say, “There’s a baby upstairs.” They pushed him into the living room and forced his friend and girlfriend into the bathroom next door.
There was shouting everywhere, overlapping, aggressive, but I couldn’t make sense of any of it. My body froze. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak.
My boyfriend came to me, lifted me from the armchair, and guided me to the sofa. He lay on top of me, shielding me. I remember him whispering, “I’m sorry,” and not understanding why.
Then, suddenly, the men ran downstairs. A moment later, my boyfriend’s car alarm went off. We waited, seconds that felt like hours, before realising they were gone. The car was still on the drive.
I called the police immediately.
🧊 Aftermath
They arrived quickly, cars racing up and down the street with sirens blaring, but they found nothing. Neighbours hadn’t heard a thing. I remember the police sitting with us, asking questions, but the conversations are gone. One officer noticed my Gucci sunglasses and said she was surprised the men hadn’t taken them. I remember thinking I wouldn’t have cared or noticed if they did. I realised they had taken my PlayStation 2 and my Britney’s Dance Beat game.
After they left, we went to my boyfriend’s sister’s house. I lay in her spare bed with him and my daughter beside me. He talked, but I couldn’t respond. I couldn’t sleep. I stayed awake until the sky turned light, convinced something else was going to happen.
When I finally slept and woke again, I still couldn’t speak. His sister tried to comfort me, and she contacted my employer because she worked for the same company, since I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
That day, I went back to my mum’s house. I felt safe there. I don’t remember parenting my daughter for a while after that. I mean, I took care of her, took her to nursery and enjoyed her, but I feel like it was done on autopilot. The shock held me in place for days. Eventually, I returned to work. My manager’s first words to me were, “You have to call in yourself.” Something in me broke.
Depression settled in quickly after that. I went from being a model employee to someone who needed frequent time off. I remember sitting in meetings, trying to explain why I couldn’t come to work, trying to explain what was wrong with me when I didn’t even understand it myself.
My life was changed for years after that night. I stopped going places. I barely saw anyone. Something in me had shifted permanently. I was never the same.
🌀 The Shift
I never blamed him, but several thoughts crossed my mind. I remember him saying sorry as he lay on top of me. I remember thinking about that car he had: if only he hadn’t souped it up with alloy wheels, tinted windows, and a spoiler, maybe it wouldn’t have attracted attention. And then I think: the car was outside. Why didn’t they just take it and go? Why did they have to come in?
I became a frequent visitor to my doctor’s, going through different cocktails of antidepressants. None of them made me better. Some took the feelings away, but the numbness was hard to bear. There was an incident where I was overmedicated and spent days teetering on mania. My employer had to send me home, and I couldn’t return until I was medically certified. I felt humiliated. I was overmedicated at the time, and the symptoms I experienced were unmistakably bipolar. Reading my journals now, I can see how that episode stirred something much deeper in my mental health.
✝️ Preserved
It wasn’t for many years before my mindset started to shift. I began leaning on God.
I grew up going to church and to Girls’ Brigade, but I never had a personal encounter. That changed slowly. I was invited to give a testimony at the church I’d begun attending. I was nervous and unprepared, but from my heart and out of my mouth came a mention of the incident that happened on Halloween, and how God kept me safe. After the service, people came up to me and said my testimony was brilliant. I could hear echoes of ‘on halloween,’ ‘a gun’! I felt embarrassed by the attention; I felt as if what had happened to me wasn’t as dramatic as it probably sounded. I wasn’t physically or even verbally assaulted. As I look back now, I realise the wounds from that event were mental. A Mental assault.
🌿 Closing Meditation
I didn’t fully understand what “preserve” meant until I looked it up.
- To guard.
- To attend to.
- To mend.
- To shield.
- To keep watch over.
- To protect continually.
I believe now that God did all of that, even when I couldn’t speak, even when I didn’t feel it.
This verse isn’t just a promise.
It’s a memory.
Thank you for reading this reflection. Sharing this memory has taken time, gentleness, and God’s steady hand. If you’ve walked through fear or trauma, I pray this meditation reminds you that preservation is often quiet, unseen, and unfolding long before we recognise it. You are not alone, and your story is held.
The Eleven One 
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