daily grist; I have come to realize that getting old is a blessing. It is God’s way of preventing us to do dangerous and crazy things like driving race cars, joining a bar brawl, and staying drunk for a week. You know, just fun things like that.if (might add hiding from game warden’s while attempting to spotlight deer ) JD Rhynes .
Last night as I was stretched out in my recliner wondering what I was going to write for today’s column, God sent me this thought, it’s about a person from my childhood that I had not thought of in probably 30 years. I attribute it to being sent from God Almighty, as there is no other explanation in my mind that could explain it I know that we all have thoughts like this time to time, and we all wonder why? I probably could’ve explained this to you in great detail when I was 17, but in the ensuing 63 years somehow, I lost a lot of knowledge that I THOUGHT I used to possess, and now when this happens to me I am at a loss for words.
When I was 10 years old I was involved in a horrible accident. It was the spring of the year and Dicky and Donnie freed were playing hide and seek in the vacant lot across from my house. The grass was about 3 feet high and when I drove into a large clump of grass to hide, my right arm hit the upright bottom of a broken quart beer bottle, inflicting a huge cut and severing the tendons and nerves to my right ring finger and little finger. There was blood spreading everywhere from severed artery as well. My mother witnessed the accident through the kitchen window, and when I let out a squall like a wounded water buffalo, she came running with a kitchen towel which she used for tourniquet thereby saving my life. My dad and uncle rushed me to the emergency hospital and about three hours later I was in surgery to repair said tendons and nerves. Now this happened in 1948, and when they put you in the hospital back then, they kept you until there was no sign of infection of any kind. I was in the hospital for six days, and on the evening of the fourth day who should walk through the door, my Sunday school teacher Ms. Gormley, the last person in the world I would have expected to visit. Ms. Gormley was probably pushing 50 at the time that was not what you would call an attractive woman. I don’t think she was married because I never heard her talk about a husband that I can remember. She was a very gentle and kind woman, and that evening there in a quiet hospital room for about 30 min. she read passages from the Bible and prayed over me. At the time I was taking violin lessons, and I was afraid that this accident would prevent me from playing the fiddle anymore. To this day I remember her putting her hands on my arm and praying for it to heal properly so I could continue playing the fiddle, which it did and I continued playing and learning. Right before she left the room she hugged me, kiss me gently on the cheek, and ask God to bless me and protect me. 70 years later the blessing is still in force. Needless to say, it is extremely hard not to cry my eyes out every time I think of what an angel really looks like. God bless your memory Ms. Gormley, and when you look down from your heavenly home, I hope you tell the angel next to you, that man right there is the one I prayed over as a young boy. He was kind of wild, but I still love him. God does move in mysterious ways.
