Life of Miracles

The flames were going over my head in no time. Dovie seeing me on fire ran in panic to tell. One look at Dovie and mommy ran to the living room! There was a bed in the living room at the time, for added warmth from the fireplace. Mommy quickly pulled the blanket off the bed rolling me up in it to put out the flames, carrying me in the blanket she ran outside. Our living room smelled of burning flesh. Thelma was sent running for help, she ran all the way to Aunt Mae and Uncle Lafe’s house, up and over the hill, about a mile away. Mommy and daddy knew that Uncle Lafe had an old car. They were better off financially than our family, but we were better farmers. Thelma being out of breath, franticly told them what had happened. Uncle Lafe, trying to hurry as fast as he could, had to get his old car started before being on their way. Transportation and support at such a needed time was truly God and His provision. I wasn’t old enough to know the extreme emergency to survive, neither did I know the plan God had for my life. God is mindful of us, our situations and needs.

They drove by our family doctor’s office on the way to the hospital, not knowing if Doctor Porter was there. We found him to be in. The doctor looked me over and shook his head and said, “I can’t do anything for her.” He went on to say, “She won’t live through the night, take her home and keep her as comfortable as possible.” My mother and father stepped outside the office door and my dad said, “We can’t do that!” Knowing they shouldn’t have stopped at our doctor’s office, which was eighteen miles from our home. They continued the journey to the hospital in Huntington an additional twenty miles.

My mom told me she held me close, as I just quietly whined. She tried to get my mind to focus on something other than my pain, showing me the pretty colored street lights. We didn’t have the lights in or around School House Hollow where we lived. As we came closer to the city there were more and more traffic lights and colored lights to hold my attention.

It had been five hours since the horrible trauma of the fire. We finally arrived at the hospital in Huntington, West Virginia. I was burned so badly over my body that there was an opening on my stomach. I would need many surgeries and skin grafts. The extended hospital stay included surgeries and treatments for my critical burns and using all they had to work with at that time. “Our best” is the deepest concern and desire to give and do that which is most needed of our ability, physical, and spiritual being.

Fortunately, I don’t remember any of the pain from the burns. At two years old and greatly injured, it may have been so horrible that my conscience wiped it from my memory. In fact, I don’t remember wearing my long gown, playing with my sister and brother, or even sticking papers in the fire and watching them go up the chimney. I don’t remember going to the hospital or the pretty street lights.

I don’t remember my mom staying with me at the hospital for the first two weeks. I don’t remember being held down in the Epson salt water. I am sure my mom helped the nurses and came as often as she could. She told me later that she wished she could have spent more time with me at the hospital. Her heart was with me. She was a dear mother. But, it was just not possible with so many young children at home and no transportation. I can’t remember her visits anyway, but I am sure she was so concerned about her baby.

In 1947 after seven long years, I returned home from the Huntington Orthopedic Hospital for Crippled Children to be with my family in Schoolhouse Hollow! After I came home from the hospital, this time for good, our parents soon moved us to the farm on Beechy Branch Road. My dad being a wise man, must have had this handpicked farm in mind for when we could all be together. The land was rich and fertile, good for growing crops. It was a good location and a beautiful place to live.