I had a wonderful experience recently. My husband and I went to Jonesboro, Ind., to cover the Price-View Dispersal at Joe and Amber Price’s farm.

Leaving the chores in the hands of our four children for the day, we headed south to the sale. The day was warm but overcast and they were predicting showers, but no bad weather would dampen the spirits of the walking, talking miracle of God that stood in the middle of the crowd that day.

Heath Penick, the man who fell off the silo last October in Orland, Ind., spent the day meeting and greeting folks with a smile on his face that wouldn’t fade.

Coming straight from the rehabilitation hospital in Illinois, Diane – Heath’s mom – picked him up and brought him to the Price-View sale. And for the first time since the accident, Heath would sleep in his own bed that night.

I didn’t know what to expect when I heard he was at the sale. With my camera in hand, I walked up to the crowd of people who surrounded Heath and began taking pictures.

Seeing me snapping shots, he said, “Of course, Melissa has to take a bunch of pictures.” I told him everyone would want to see how well he recovered from the accident.

As I watched him converse with people, I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. I wanted to listen to him talk, touch him and hug him; I wanted to just soak this miracle in. I wanted to ask a million questions of him and his mom.

But time didn’t permit; I just watched from a distance and thanked God for sparing his life.

Reflecting on the events of that day, I keep thinking about the reports of Heath’s progress we received over the last six months. The one thing people kept saying was that he hadn’t changed a bit, it was the same old Heath. His family assured us that his facial features were the same, his personality was the same and that he would make a full recovery.

I agree, Heath has made a full recovery. He can walk, talk, laugh and remember – but Heath is not the same old Heath. He is new. He is vibrant. He is animated. Heath has changed.

While watching him interact with people, he had a constant smile and his countenance was that of someone who has had an appointment with the One who created him and the One who spared his life.

Heath experienced what some of us will never endure. He was at the lowest of lows. He was just a vapor from death, but for some wonderful reason, God spared Heath.

Heath is now home on his Indiana dairy farm with his loving family, and I can just imagine the joy that is spilling over as he resumes caring for the cattle that he is so passionate about.

But Heath has a story to tell and I hope he tells it every chance he gets. His story is one of grace and mercy, one of miracles, one of vulnerability and strength, one of determination and tenacity. His story is one that cannot be retold by any columnist, novelist or orator.

Heath’s story can only be told by the one who experienced his miraculous encounter with God. The God who created Heath. The God who loves Heath. The God who saved Heath, and the God who has big plans for Heath.

Heath – we’re waiting …

Readers with questions or comments for Melissa Hart may write to her in care of this publication.