In the early part of the twentieth century, Luther became a Christian. He was a poor man that had made a living sharecropping, barbering, and selling home brewed liqour. He had a wife, five sons, and two daughters. After his conversion, he gave up the making of the home brew. His conversion was dramatic, joyous, and wholehearted. From that point on, his greatest desire was to please the Lord Jesus. He found new joy in living, even in grueling hard work and privation. He loved his family with a newfound and selfless fervency.
In about 1937, his fourth son, about twelve years old, became sick with a painful stomach ache. Luther laid hands on the boy and prayed for him according to the scriptures and the custom of his church. When the boy didn't improve within a few hours, Luther sent word and asked for the Pastor to come and pray for the boy which he did. The boy still complained of the pain, but the Pastor encouraged Luther to stand fast in faith. Several hours later, the pain suddenly subsided, the boy felt better, and Luther and the family thanked the Lord for His healing power as they had done dozens of times before.
The next day, the boy developed a fever and began to have some pain in the stomach again. Luther knew that his faith was usually tested, and he stood on the scriptures, and comforted his son. Some of Luther's family suggested that they should take the boy to the doctor, but Luther felt that would be acting in unbelief. Luther had some from the church who admonished him that Christians should never need a doctor if their faith was sufficient.
By the next day, Luther's agony at seeing his son still suffering, and the persuasion of his brother-in-law and others in the family caused him to seek a ride twenty miles into town to the doctor. When the doctor checked out the boy, he had very bad news. The child had suffered from appendicitis, and the appendix had ruptured. When the appendix burst, that was what brought about the temporary relief of pain. Now, infection had set in, and was well advanced.
Luther was stunned. The old doctor was very frank, if Luther had brought the boy in on the first day, if would have been a simple matter to remove the appendix with a good prognosis. Now, the situation was grave. In the next few days, the boy steadily worsened. Luther spent hours praying in an old buggy shed behind the hospital, but the child's condition deteriorated. The doctor told Luther that he had done all that he could do. When he tried to stitch up the opening, the flesh was gangrenous and rotten. It was so bad that bowel movements came out of the gaping hole in the boy's lower side.
Luther had to prepare himself and his family for the boy's death. Once again Luther retreated to the buggy barn and spent an agonizing night in prayer. We don't know exactly how he prayed, but he knew that without a miracle, his son would probably be dead before the next day was over. He may have prayed for forgiveness for not acting in time to save his boy's life. He probably wrestled with thoughts that his faith must have been defective, or that his son was being punished for the failures of his father.
That morning, a little after sunrise Luther walked over to the hospital, drained and exhausted. The doctor met him in the hall, and said that he didn't understand it, but they had a little good news. The boy had experienced a normal bowel movement, something was changing for the better. In the days ahead the progress increased, healthy skin began to appear and the gangrene lessened. The fever subsided and the child gained some strength.
There was a young nurse who took extra time to carry the boy around the hospital to visit others or to get fresh air. He was still too weak to walk for many days. In time, the boy was able to be sent home. His younger brother and sister had to teach him to walk again, but he kept improving and getting stronger. I have been told that the doctor that treated the boy acknowledged that a miracle of some sort had occured, although he still resented that the boy wasn't brought in early enough to not need a miracle.
I am really thankful for the miraculous healing of the young boy. I can forgive Luther for waiting so long. I am sure that his heart was in the right place and that he did what he thought was best for his boy at the time. I know that he truly loved his son. I am sure of this because Luther was my grandfather, and his fourth son was my dad. I don't suppose that I would be here if God had not answered Luther's prayer and healed his son.
The young boy grew up to be one of the strongest men for his size that I have ever known. He had more energy and love of life than anyone I ever knew. Sometimes when I was tending to Dad in the nursing home before he died I would see the scar, as big as my fist in his lower right side. It always reminded me of how precarious the path is to our very existance.
I never did get to meet the old doctor who treated my dad, he had died before I was old enough to hear the story. I did have the pleasure of knowing the nurse that carried my dad around the hospital. She worked in the local hospital until retirement, and we saw her often around town, until her death about ten or fifteen years ago. She told me about carrying dad through the hospital, and I could tell that she had special fondess for him.
As Thanksgiving approaches I am taking inventory of the many things that I am thankful for. I suppose the first thing to be thankful for is just to be here, especially when I realize that it probably took a few miracles to make it possible. I'm also thankful for doctors and nurses, pastors and church members, even though none of them have perfect judgement at all times, and above all I am thankful for a loving Creator and Redeemer that loves us unconditionally, and can bring a miracle when we have to have one.
Ronnie
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