Miracles.......

I thought I would republish this post. 

Steven's accident was 14 years ago today.

I am a believer that everything happens for a reason. Even the most mundane tasks fulfill a purpose, even if that purpose seems ordinary. Often times it isn't clear what that purpose is. In fact, most times we will never know. But sometimes.....just sometimes, God lets us see that there is so much more going on in this world than we, with our peripheral vision, can see. He shows us that below the surface of what seems to be an ordinary day, you can experience something that is anything but.

I first became a firm believer of this phenomenon in 1997. My husband-was my boyfriend at the time-rode bulls. He had done this since 1994. I was used to it and there was no use trying to change him. He loved it and that was that.

However, on April 4, 1997 we went to a rodeo about 2 hours from home. A friend of ours went with us, and we were having a great time. When Steven was in the chute I was no more nervous than usual. The chute opened and out he came, doing his thing...experiencing his high.

Towards the end of his eight seconds he got flipped around. Normally while riding (for those who are unfamiliar), the rider has one hand in a rope and his free arm up, body facing (obviously) the front of the bull. But somehow, during the ride, he was swung like a helicopter around, with hand still in the rope, with his body horizontal to the ground, head facing the rear of the bull. He was jerked down on the bulls horns before his hand broke free.

While watching this, I really didn't feel like anything major had just happened. He wore a protective vest, so I felt like his chest and abdomen would have been cushioned .....but something was wrong. He just laid there in the arena. Barely moving. My heart began racing and I just thought...."I have to get out there".

Now the primary reason for my reaction was my husband's attitude. He was not, and is still not, an attention seeker. He always kinda joked about the riders who seemed to constantly get hurt. Whether they laid on the arena floor for a few seconds or dramatically limped out, they seemed to swell up with the cheers of the crowd. Magically cured. He had always told me. "If I lay on the arena floor, you will know I am dying". He was a man of his word.

I went out there and knelt down beside him. Are you OK?, I asked. I knew the answer and I knew he would lie. "Yeah (straining to speak), just give me a minute." After what seemed like an eternity he allowed himself to be helped out of the arena. The paramedics looked at him and said that he might want to get checked out. They could take him.....it was up to him. "No", he said," we will just drive to the hospital".

Shaking like I have never before, the three of us rushed to the car and began our 20-30 mile trek to the nearest community hospital. I was unfamiliar with this facility or its reputation, but to get to the nearest reputable hospital was at least an hour away.

I tried calling his parents, my parents, ANYONE to let them know what was going on, but my cell phone couldn't get a signal - ON A MAIN HIGHWAY! We were going over 90 miles an hour. He sat silently beside me. I kept saying, squeeze my hand so I will know you are OK. (Yes, driving 90 with one hand not so smart but I had bigger things to worry about.)

He later told me that during this drive he kept thinking to himself: "Every breath that you can take will keep you alive that much longer".

We had taken his parents car that night, for what reason I can't remember. Apparently going 90+ miles an hour can cause a car to overheat. The car overheated and eventually died. I guided it to a stop on the shoulder of the highway. Our friend knew it was imperative that we get Steven to the hospital immediately. He was yellow and not doing well. He got out of the car waving at people to stop. No one did. Not that we could blame him. There had been a series of murders in that general area of the state and authorities were conducting a widespread manhunt. Nobody wanted to pull over and let a stranger into their car.

After what seemed like hours, but I am sure it was only minutes, someone stopped. Actually, two someones stopped. A couple, I believe sent by God, stopped and let Steven and I in their van. Our friend stayed with the car, and I told him I would get a hold of someone and send for him. Steven was, in my mind, deteriorating rapidly. He kept saying, "I think I am going to puke!" I could only think, please don't, not in their car. They have been so nice to stop. Steven desperate at this point is yelling at the driver, "Hurry!" "Please!"

Finally we arrived at the hospital. They took him in the ER. He was yellow and couldn't move much......he kept saying "I feel so tight". They took a cat scan of him and came back with positive results....."It looks like you have bruised your liver. You will be fine. We are going to watch you overnight and you can probably go home in the morning." We were so relieved.

Little did we know that we wouldn't go home for over a month.

The night was terrible for him. In excruciating pain and vomiting blood.....the night shift seemed incapable..... We all knew something was wrong. Why didn't they?

Come morning, and a new set of doctors, they decided that since he still wasn't doing well, they should run another cat scan.

When they returned the news was not so positive. I can remember the exact words they said: "Apparently the cat scan machine was broke last night. Your liver is not bruised it is severed. You have been bleeding internally. Actually, you should have died minutes after the impact. We do not have enough blood in this hospital to get you through surgery.....you are going to have to go to St. John's. We are taking you there by ambulance immediately".

I remember the feeling of the blood leaving my body.

His parents had arrived during the night. Our friend was picked up by his brother and we all headed towards St. John's.

Little did I know that God had a plan. All along. He knew what He was doing even when I didn't.

In fact I believe that God made sure the car overheated. God broke cat scan machine. God turned the stoplight red. He needed to slow us down.

Once we arrived at St. John's we were greeted by the trauma surgeon. He had looked at Steven's cat scans. He told us that liver injuries were rated on a scale of 1-5. 1 being a scratch and a 5 being totally annihilated. His was a 5. He then informed us that he had no idea how to treat him. He said that the only people that he had ever seen with a liver injury like Steven's were dead on arrival. He determined that the internal bleeding had, for the time being, ceased. That being the case he was going to do nothing but wait and see.

And here is where God had taken control: The surgeon had stated that it was a miracle that Steven was alive. He informed us that had the other hospital's cat scan machine worked they would have promptly sent him to St. John's and they would have immediately "opened him up" .....this would have caused, in the surgeons words, for him to "bleed to death on the table". Since almost 15 hours had passed since the accident and the bleeding had stopped, they didn't do surgery, therefore saving his life.

God gave us that 15 hours by slowing us down....by whatever means possible.

Two weeks after the accident they ended up doing an exploratory surgery that went well. 2 more weeks later, and liters upon liters of bile drained off of him, he was allowed to come home, (with drain tubes attached) May 5, 1997. There were a few ups and downs, but I felt that if God had wanted him to die, he had plenty of opportunities on the night of April 4th.

This is when I first became acutely aware that everything isn't always as it seems.....
and God always knows.....

But it is easy to forget.....to get caught up in life.....HOWEVER yesterday,
 I was reminded of this once again.

Although Daisy was only a dog, she was an integral part of our family. We loved her. And since my children were born, Daisy got put on the back burner. I still feel guilty about this. She was the best dog. Well behaved, sweet hearted, gentle and loving. Back before we had kids, we would take her to rodeos with us. Children would come out of the wood work to play with her. I remember two times specifically that two children with Downs Syndrome played with her........a little too rough at times. But I think she knew they were special. She would just "grin" and bear it. She loved the attention and she loved people.

Daisy was an outside dog during the day, but loved to come inside with the family at night. However, being the meanie that I am, when we built our house, Daisy had to either stay outside or in the garage. She seemed to accept this and just hung out with our stock dog, Rowdy. This change in venue seemed to cut back on how much "hands on" time I spent with her. It seemed I was always in a rush. Getting supper, cleaning house, rushing around.....always too busy to lavish her with affection for too long.

Since Thursday I have thought about how much love she showed us and how little attention she had received lately.....Poor Daisy, if I could do it all again.

As I posted before, Thursday was the last time that I saw Daisy. We have looked. Neighbors have looked. She was nowhere to be found. My mind created many possible scenarios ranging from someone abducting her to the UPS man hitting her on the way down our driveway and then hiding the body. I know, I know, a little crazy and far reaching, but I just couldn't understand what would have happened to her.

Yesterday, my father called to see if my husband would come help him build a corral. Steven said he couldn't because I had a couple of appointments and he was watching the kids.

I left and went to my appointments and got home early in the afternoon. Once home, Steven contemplated going and helping my dad.....deciding against it since there were some things he needed to do around the house and if he helped dad he wouldn't be home until after dark.

He came in the house a while later and asked if we all wanted to go check the cows. We loaded up and started towards the location he had been feeding hay. Once there we surveyed the cows and realized that we were three short. We went hunting for them.

We found the cows on the back side of the place, contentedly eating grass that was poking up through the snow. Since we had traveled so far back, we decided to circle back to the house a different way.

As we headed down the old road towards the house, hubby spotted a tree that had fallen over the fence separating our land from the neighbors, blocking the road. "Looks like I need to mend some fence, I will drop you guys off and come back." Sometimes I think it is overwhelming for him......his work is never done. There is always something that needs to be done.

Steven backed up and we retreated back the way we came. I took the kids in the house and began thinking about supper. Approximately 30 minutes later Steven yelled through the front door...."Grab the kids, grab a camera.....hurry! I found Daisy!"

What? Daisy? Is she dead? Where is she at? What is going on? It has been 7 days!

With my adrenaline pumping I grabbed everything. We jumped in the ranger and headed off. What is going on? Where did you find her? Is she OK?

Apparently while Steven was cutting up the fallen tree and repairing the fence, he heard something that made him stop and listen. Kids? Maybe the neighbors, but they aren't that close. A bird? Maybe. He decided that it definitely sounded like something in distress. He followed the noise and came upon something sticking out of a tree that had fallen and was hollowed out. A fox? It had red head. Upon further inspection it was obvious what it was.....DAISY!

He tried to get her out and couldn't. Apparently she had chased something into the hollowed out tree and it was smaller and got out of a TINY squirrel hole. Somehow, we do not know how, she got her head through this hole and couldn't get it out.

EVEN WE COULDN'T GET IT OUT!

The snow had covered up the entrance to the log. She had definitely been there the whole time. Seven days of rain, sleet and snow. Her body was protected but her head was exposed.

Steven cut the log on both sides of her body (allowing enough room for her). I could touch her body but we couldn't get her head out. He then took an axe and split the log. Her body was then exposed, yet her head was still on the other side of the log. Finally, with me holding her up, we turned what remained of the log on its side and he hit it with an axe. As it started to split he took his hands and pried it apart down to the hole.........freeing my dog!

Aside from being extremely weak, thin and stinking to high heaven, she appeared to be fine. Still shaking, I took her inside and gave her food and water. She didn't want the food at first but drank the water. I then bathed her twice.....hoping to get rid of the putrid smell. It helped some but still...........

This has made "awakened" me yet again. All things are possible. A tiny little dog, stuck in a log for seven days, nothing to eat, "drinking" the snow......

If not for my hubby staying home with the kids, he wouldn't have been home until dark, if not for the cows being separated, or the tree falling on the fence, or the snow falling so that she would have something to drink...........if not for miracles.

Once again, God slowed me down. He slowed me down to help me to realize that I need to not take for granted that which I hold dear.

Miracles come in all shapes and sizes. This one came in the form of a tiny dog stuck in a tree.

Sorry the picture of her in the log is blurry. I was shaking so bad and didn't want to take the time to focus while she was stuck........