So you might be wondering by now, “What’s all this brouhaha about letting God be my friend? I mean, I can get through life without that, right?” Sure, you can “get through life without that”, but what you’ll miss is what I’m about to tell you.
“Bam!!” The bedroom door flew open and out of my deep sleep I heard my son-in-law Paul shout, “Patsy, get up!!” I jumped out of bed, thinking that the house was on fire. When I ran to the kitchen, I asked Paul what happened, and as he was fumbling with some ice to stop the bruising he cried out, “My boy’s been hit!” Quickly, I followed him to the front room of the house.
It was pandemonium. I stood there and watched as the EMT’s came rushing in, putting an oxygen mask on Max and strapping him to the gurney. In an instant I realized the severity of the situation and immediately, without really thinking, started to cry out to God for our grandson.
Just the day before, my whole family had been celebrating the wedding of my nephew in New Orleans. Our two-year-old grandson, Max, had taken the dance floor by storm and assumed the role of “party activator” as he went up to random guests and pulled them onto the dance floor. And now, because he had gotten out of the front door and tried to get across the street to play with his cousins in City Park, the ambulance was roaring towards University Medical Center with our precious cargo in the back
A short time afterward, when the family arrived at the hospital, we were informed that Max would need immediate surgery to remove his spleen or he would bleed out and die. After plans for the procedure got underway, I found myself walking down a deserted hallway in the hospital. I knew I needed to talk to my best friend. “Lord,” I said, “I know you’ve got this, but I need to hear something from you tonight!” Immediately my heart heard, “Something Spectacular!” That was it! I knew my Friend had our backs and He would take care of Max.
Everything that could have gone wrong ended up going right. The hospital staff were phenomenal. God had taken care of everything. Max had been hit by a suburban as he attempted to cross over to the park. He was dead in the street. My brother and sister-in-law, both E.R. doctors, “just happened” to be visiting us at the time. They were able to resuscitate Max. The story continues with God working out every detail to heal Max and to get him home to the Dallas-Ft. Worth area.
Fast forward to a year later. Our daughter Kate, Max’s mom, is in Ireland with Max’s sister, Ella. It’s a spring break jaunt to visit our other daughter, Elisa, who is spending an extended time with her family on the Emerald Isle. A red door catches Kate’s eye as they walk down a street in Galway, and she suggests to Ella that they go into the church to pray. They light a candle, memories from a year ago flooding their minds. How ludicrous it is for Kate to think that a year later she and Ella are across the Pond, lighting a candle in an Irish church! As they thanked God for all the amazing things He had done for their family that year, Kate couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to the shirt with the Irish harp that the doctors had cut off Max prior to surgery. It had been a special purchase for Max and a favorite of hers.
Continuing down the street, they step into a shop to look around, and immediately Kate sees the exact shirt with the Irish harp. Needless to say, another purchase was made. My best friend had wrapped up the miraculous year with a hug and a kiss for Max’s Mom!
Max — April 8, 2016
Max — March 22, 2017 (Check out the shirt!)