A while ago, someone asked me why I believe in God so stongly.
So, I told them a story. The story was about a boy that was born via an emergency C-section because, while his heart was beating, he wasn’t breathing. His mother was rushed into a hospital room where the doctors quickly delivered the baby. A tinge of blue surrounded his body and he was then rushed to the Special Care Nursery. His parents had no idea whether or not their new son was going to make it.
It was touch and go. The family’s pastor visited and prayed. The child’s grandfather visited everyday. His parents also prayed everyday. The baby had a hardened septum in his heart due to the fact that his mother took insulin during her pregnancy. The child had various tubes in him including a feeding tube and, while the doctors did what they could but, he was not improving like they had hoped he would. They were preparing to transfer him to a children’s hospital but, the hospital had told the doctors to first mix a concoction and give it to the child and see if he improved. The doctors were very close to giving it to him when, out of nowhere, the child’s heartbeat improved. His breathing instantly got better and the doctors saw the mixture was no longer needed. Since then, the child steadily improved and soon was able to go home.
About two years later, that same child went downstairs with his father to get a stroller out of the van outside. The boy sat in the back of the van, his father telling him not to move until he had gotten the stroller out. The moment the father grabbed the stroller, the boy jumped out of the van and ran down the middle of the street.
His father ran right after him, trying to get him out of the way of traffic. He succeeded, in a way. A car hit the father, fracturing his ankle. His body whipped around the side of the car and his head bounced off the vehicle several times. The boy was dragged by the car for sixty five feet. He was covered with road rash and had a black eye, but nothing was broken. The boy was in and out of the hospital within three hours. His father succeeded in moving his son enough so that none of the wheels rolled over him. That father almost died while in the street as well as while he was being rushed to the hospital. He also nearly died while on the operating table, which is where he came closest to dying. He was in a coma for days as family members came to visit and pray for him. Three days later, he woke up and all he could think about was his son. He was assured he was alright.
Doctors were involved in both of their lives, doing what they could to save them. But it was God who decided they were still needed here on Earth to fulfill some kind of purpose.
The accident happened on February 29th, 2008—nine years ago yesterday. That boy was my youngest son and yes, the man was me. God found us both worthy enough to save both of us at different times and at the same time.