Mother's Day

This is my second blog of the day (is that allowed?). Perhaps you’ll understand why I appreciate Mother’s Day so much.

Eighteen years ago on Mother’s Day, we found ourselves in an Evansville hospital having spent two long nights and a day praying and wondering. The Friday night before, we had just gone to bed when the doorbell rang. Friends of our oldest daughter hysterically told us our daughter had been shot.

In disbelief, our questions were how was she and where was she? They didn’t know! We five got dressed and hurried to the hospital, knowing that’s where hurt people go. We were right; she was in the emergency room with a rifle bullet having hit her cheek and exploded. As soon as they could semi-stabilize her, she was lifeflighted to Evansville, Indiana. We threw clothes into suitcases and took off to follow. It felt like the 90-minute trip took hours.

Needless to say, we prayed all the way there, not knowing what we would find. We found her alive and being prepared for some tests. Following those, she was admitted to the Intensive Care section, where we could only see her a few minutes every hour or so.

And so it went throughout Saturday day and night. Sunday, Mother’s Day, she was scheduled for mouth surgery at 8 o’clock to clean out the debris, take out the roots of the destroyed teeth, and close the wound inside her cheek. They told us she would be in the hospital for weeks. I just wanted to hear that she would live. Those words didn’t come. The time ticked by and she was not taken into surgery until almost noon.

Sometimes great challenges bring great rewards. We learned that almost every church in our town had prayed for our daughter that morning at their church service. It seems the surgery needed to wait until those prayers went before the throne of God.

The doctors came out of surgery saying she could plan to go home on Tuesday—a complete turn-around. She would be able to celebrate her birthday at home on Wednesday and to attend her community college graduation on Saturday. It was my best Mother’s Day. My girl would live! Thank you, Lord!

If you know her, check out her dimple—her souvenir.