Prodigal: Tell us a story while we enjoy the day.
Me: I think I have one that you might like.
He was only six years old when the accident happened. I don’t know how I knew it was really serious, for he complained of no pain, but I knew–I was positive.
Andy had been out in the front yard helping his dad get rid of some tall weeds in the vacant lot adjoining our property. Suddenly he came in the front door wiping moisture from his left cheek and said, “My eye is watering, Mommy.”
I’ll never know how or why I was so certain, but I felt a reaction like a blow in the pit of my stomach, and words formed in my mind, “His eye is hurt badly.” After trying to say some calming words to him, I went straight to the phone to call the pediatrician. It was 11:30 a.m. on a sunny Saturday morning. I told Doctor Wiedman that Andy’s eye was hurt and I needed for him to see Andy right away.
My husband Dan came in, and was surprised to find me calling the doctor since Andy was not even crying or saying that his eye hurt. But perhaps he thought my anxiety was due to the fact that I was expecting a baby, our third, in two months.
While driving the two miles, I looked over at Andy’s and with a sense of shock noted that his left eye was no longer shiny and blue. It looked dull, gray and almost flat. When we stopped at a light, I asked him to cover his right eye with his hand and tell me if he could see me. “No! That’s funny,” he said, “I can’t see.”
When we entered Doctor Weidman’s office, he greeted us, and after one hard look at Andy across the room, he left to bring back the eye specialist near his office. The eye doctor was very kind, but after a quick look and a few questions, he left. He returned quickly to say, “Mrs. God, there is one eye surgeon in this town who I feel might be able to help. I’ve called him at the Episcopal Eye, Ear, Nose and Throat Hospital, and he will meet you there.” Noting my condition, both doctors suggested that my husband come and drive us there, which he did.
When the three of us reached the hospital, Dr. John Harry King greeted us in the gentlest way. He examined Andy deftly, talking to him reassuringly as he did so He spoke to us privately. “Mr. and Mrs. Gold, the cornea of Andy’s eye has somehow pierced, perhaps by a thorn. The reason it looks dull is that all of the fluid has gone out through the hole. Unfortunately there is no surgery that we can perform.”
“Is there any chance the eye can be saved?” I asked, desperately.
He paused, carefully choosing his words. “Yes, Mrs. Gold, a faint chance. The hole could heal and some of the fluid re-form. But, I must warn you it is a very, very slim chance and a medical rarity.” He agreed that we should give the eye every chance for any possible healing, and as this meant both eyes must be bandaged, we felt I should stay with Andy in the hospital.
It was a very old hospital, and they led us to a long , narrow room where they put Andy in a bed with sides to be sure he didn’t fall. A cot was brought in for me, and our vigil of keeping a healthy, active, six-year-old boy with bandaged eyes completely still and quiet began. When I quickly went home for a suitcase and some books to read to him, I made several calls, asking for prayers for our Andy.
Back at the hospital, the long evening finally drew to a close, and as things quieted down, I hoped Andy would sleep. Before he did, I asked him to pray with me. I’d found a special prayer at home, one I’d had but never used, except to read it casually. It was called a Nine-hour Novena, and I had always liked its wording. “Ask and ye shall receive; I ask, I seek, I knock, and request that my petition be granted.”
Andy repeated each phrase after me. I intended to make the prayer for him at hourly intervals all night long. He asked me to wake him so he could pray, too.
Though there was no air conditioning and the room was stifling hot, Andy quickly fell asleep. When I was sure he wouldn’t hear me, I knelt beside the cot and wept. But then, prayer came, “Dear Lord, please heal Andy’s eye….he wasn’t doing anything wrong or being silly….he was helping his dad. You know how he always notices everything in the house with his bright eyes; how he can find things for us all; how he tries to help watch his little brother. Oh please, please don’t let that eye be blinded.” Then I added a special request, “Help me to wake each hour, on the hour, to say the novena.” As tired as I was, this was asking a great deal.
I seemed to fall asleep quickly, as Andy had. I woke later and looked at my watch. It was exactly 11 p.m. I knelt again, and read the prayer form a light in the hall. I whispered, “Andy?” He, too, was awake and joined me in the prayer, then seemed to go right back to sleep. I drowsed off too, but at midnight some inner alarm clock sounded and I prayed again. After the third time this happened, exactly this way, I was no longer surprised. It seemed natural and right and I somehow felt sure it was God’s way of letting us know we were in His care.
When I read the prayer for the sixth time–at three a.m.– I felt the greatest warmth and sense of comfort I can recall. The words came alive, bringing tears of gratitude to my eyes. Though I didn’t hear an audible voice inside, I felt God speaking to me, reassuring me, inviting me to let go, to relinquish Andy’s problem to Him.
“Thank You, Lord,” I murmured, “for caring, for staying so close at this time. Yes, I trust You to deal with Andy’s eye.” I had no way of knowing if my child would indeed see again, but whatever happened I knew God would help us through the ordeal. I felt so very loved, somehow, in that dismal little room.
At 6 a.m, as we said the prayer for the last time, we heard activities beginning in the hallways. Doctor King had agreed to come in very early around 8:30, I think, and my husband and I met him when he arrived. The doctor talked with Andy a bit before beginning to remove the bandage to check for possible infection.
As he took the bandage off, I saw the incredulous look on Doctor King’s face. Then I looked at Andy.
The eye was round again! It was bright blue, and shining, exactly like the other eye.
“Mrs Gold, what have you done?” the doctor exclaimed, which, in retrospect, was an odd question. When I told him quickly and briefly of our “nine-hour prayer.” the doctor himself had tears in his eyes. Gently he covered Andy’s “good” eye, held up two finger and asked, “How many?” Andy said, “Two,” then replied correctly to other tests Doctor King tried.
“This is most gratifying,” Doctor King said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
In looking back, I know it was not just the novena that brought healing. It was prayer, repeated prayer, ceaseless prayer, unrelenting prayer–our own, plus the prayers of others–that brought us to the point where we relinquished the problem to God. To this day, if you ask him, Doctor King, the very famous eye surgeon whose cornea preservation technique led to the beginning of the International Eye Foundation, will tell you that it was prayer that brought about one of the most remarkable occurrences he has every witnessed–the restoration of a small boy’s eye.
by May Sheridan Gold
And God said unto Moses, I AM THAT I AM: and he said, Thus shalt thou say unto the children of Israel, I AM hath sent me unto you.
Exodus 3:14
Jennifer Van Allen
www.theprodigalpig.com
www.faithincounseling.org
