And Then, There was God!


It was the early Spring of 1960 and I was 12 years old.  In those days, kids rode bicycles to school and I was having a special day of it.  I had what was then called an English bike because it had a three-speed gear shift and very skinny tires with hand brakes.  This day, however, my brother let me ride he new Schwinn Mk 5 bike: big tires, comfortable saddle, three speed shifter and really cool hand brakes.  He was at his driving age and was too cool to be riding a bike, so I got lucky.  I couldn’t wait for seventh grade day at Harding Jr. High School to end so I could jump on the bike a race home.  As was the usual case, I met my friend, Mike, after school let out and we started our usual ride home, but this Mark 5 needed to be tried so the race was on.  I didn’t do my bike justice because Mikey was ahead of me from the start, but we were cruising!  I remember Mike flying out of an alley and across a street, then waving me on.  I, too, went flying out of the alley and looked to my right for cars and continued on.  Big problem!  That street was one way coming from my left and I didn’t see that little Ford until it was too late.

Everything else in this report in hearsay, for I was in no condition to remember the events, but this is how it was explained to my Mom, who retold the event to me.  Turns out that Ford hit me squarely and, according to police reports and the newspaper, knocked me twenty-eight yards through the air, after which I landed, head first in a cloud of dust.  I had slung my book bag over the handlebars and it went flying right along with me, which, it turns out was quite propitious because when I landed, the book bag cushioned the hit my head was about to take from the street.  I rolled and tumbled to a dusty stop on the side of the road and there I laid until the ambulance came.  There was no such thing as EMTs then, so ambulance folks just knew basic first aid.  When they checked me out, they decided there was nothing that could be done and had the police call the coroner because I was devoid of all vital signs.  As the onlookers and the ambulance crew stood and waited, a woman emerge from a house right at the scene and rushed to my side and started “praying the blood of Jesus”!  AND THEN GOD SHOWED UP!  I never did know what that prayer was, but, while she was praying, I suddenly picked up my head, looked around (this I vaguely remember) and passed out again.  The attendants quickly rushed to me, splinted my leg and put a neck brace on me and sped me off to the hospital.  By the time I was delivered to the ER, I was awake and conversive, but more than just a little confused.  The rest of the story in the ER is kind of funny but not germane to my article.  What is important is that a woman, a total stranger, had the courage to publicly kneel at my side and pray with such faith that a miracle occurred.

I know that’s a lot to swallow for some folks, but as for me and grandma, we believe!  I was twelve, and since then, I have experienced God’s intervention in my life on more than just a few occasions, but I had learned to ask God for his help when things seemed to be getting away from me.  More to follow!