Can you tell which one was, just 4 hours prior to this picture, completely closed in our power sliding van door?
As in, three of his fingers on one hand were in the door when it pulled itself closed, no gaps left.
Not just partly closed because there were fingers in the way.
I mean completely shut, while a poor little boy stood there and screamed in pain, unable to free his hand.
He was getting in the van after church, (not being completely obedient or cooperative), when this happened. I immediately ran him back into church for ice both on top and underneath his poor, purple creased fingers. There were several folks still hanging around after church, and many prayers were offered on the spot!
We got everyone loaded up to head home...and since he screamed in pain with trying to bend his fingers for me, we confirmed our plan to take him in for xrays. We dashed home, bringing dear Rose along with us to stay with Andrew and Anna. Jacob could not stop crying, pitifully moaning about his hand hurting. Halfway to town (30 miles to the ER), he finally calmed down and actually fell sound asleep.
We arrived at the hospital, and as Mark went to get him out of the van, we realized he was using his hand freely to unbuckle his seatbelt. And as we walked through the hospital doors, we asked him to wiggle his fingers and to make a fist...which he did without trouble.
The nurses were waiting just inside the door, grinning at the scene unfolding before them (one of the nurses is our friend Lynne, who attends church with us when not on duty in the ER!). "I see we have some deliberations going," one quipped. They looked at his hand, had him move it a bit, and even offered him some stickers, which he quickly took...using the hand that had been injured. Within 3 minutes we were all in agreement-his hand was fine.
After a stop for a hot dog and a dairy-free smoothie for Jacob, we were headed home. While we had been gone, Mark's parents had called, and Rose let them know what was going on. We called as soon as we got home to let them know that all was well...and then got a bit of "the rest of the story." On Thursday night, Mark's mom had been woken suddenly from a sound sleep by her dream...her dream that a boy was getting his hand slammed in a car door. She had assumed she was fearful of something happening to Ethan, our 3 year old nephew whom they were taking camping the next day. So, she prayed for protection.
I will never grasp how God works...but I am grateful all the same for his miraculous power. I know there is no way that my boy's skinny little fingers would not have been smashed by the power door...I know there is no way that we experienced today was anything less than a miracle.
UPDATE (or "epilogue" may be more appropriate):
When I was tucking Jacob in to bed tonight, I hugged him and told him that I was so thankful that God had healed his hand for him. He quickly corrected me that it wasn't God who had done it, it was Jesus. And then he added, "But the next time I do that it will be God's turn to make it better." Thankfully he agreed with me that he should never do that again, despite his great faith!
