I want to tell you a story. In my mind and in my heart, it’s one of God’s miracle that He allowed me to be a part of. By the time you get to the end of the story, you can come up with your own opinion – miracle or not – but your opinion won’t sway mine. I want to share it with you just the same.
Like most 15 year old boys in Jinotepe (and various parts of the world also from what I’ve seen), he enjoys playing futbol (aka Soccer). He loves it. He plays in Crocs; you know those weird looking foam-type material shoes? He wore those a lot. Some days he’d play barefoot, which always made me a little nervous since we’d play on a driveway that had all sorts of sticks and debris that could hurt him. One particular day, it was starting to get dark and he was playing futbol right after I’d just left to go inside. He was wearing his Crocs. Not too long after I’d gotten into my room, Keryn came running in and told me “Kevin hurt his foot, and there’s a lot of blood. There’s a lot of blood.” I ran outside with my handy first aid kit (that thing has been ridiculously useful) and sat down by Kevin. He was laughing and joking but clearly in a lot of pain. And when I looked at his foot, Keryn’s words were confirmed – there was a lot of blood.
For a while I couldn’t figure out where the blood was coming from. It was just all over his foot and dripping everywhere. Then one of the guys he’d been playing with showed me an inch-long spike that he’d pulled out of Kevin’s foot.
It had almost gone clear through the poor kid’s foot.
By now I needed more light, so someone got me a headlamp. With the light I could see more. First off, I could see his foot was swelling at a pretty fast rate. Secondly, there was still some of the spike left IN his foot – but it was so deep there was no way I’d be able to get to it.
I’m not a nurse. I’m studying to BE one, but I’m not there yet. So while I have some knowledge, I’m far from having things figured out. Sitting there, with Kevin’s foot in my hands and realizing there wasn’t much I could do for him really hurt. My mind jumped to the possibility of him getting an infection and losing his foot. Maybe that was an irrational and pessimistic thought process, but that’s what I thought. I kept cleaning his foot and started praying, both out loud and silently, Lord don’t let him lose his foot. Heal him and make it better.
This had happened about 2 days before we would be leaving for debrief in Granada. I was really worried that his foot would get infected. So over the next couple days I was still in Jinotepe, I demanded to look at his foot and clean it out and demanded that he not play futbol for a week – I know, I’m cruel. The last time I looked at it was the morning before I left.
I was afraid of how it would look. Up to that morning, his foot was still swelling and was pretty warm to the touch. A possible infection? I didn’t know. I could see that part of the spike was still inside his foot and didn’t look like it was going anywhere anytime soon.
The last morning, I had him sit on the bed and I took off the bandages I’d put on the day before. I was praying still at that point, please God just make him better.
The swelling had gone down.
The redness had gone down and so had the pain.
His foot wasn’t hot anymore.
I was thrilled but could still see a little peice of something in his wound. I started cleaning it out just like I had the times before, and that little stubborn tip of the spike?
Just came out like nobody’s business.
It just…came OUT. Practically on it’s own.
Kevin might’ve thought I was a little crazy when I said, “AH! Praise Jesus!” and squeezed his hand, but I thought it was a perfectly legitimate reason – God did something with that boy’s foot.
Fastforward to debrief in Granada. Kevin came to see us twice while we were there (stubborn, disobedient boy that he is!) and the first time he came, he wasn’t limping at all. AT ALL. Not even a slight limp, like there was still a little pain. When I asked him, he said it was fine. It was great. No pain.
No pain. None. None? After a spike had just about gone through his foot? I couldn’t believe it. And yet, there he was, walking around like it hadn’t ever happened.
Like a lot of miracles, we can find ways to explain them away. But I’m not doing that with this one. All I had was neosporin and some cheapy bandaids, and the hand sanitizer towelettes I got before I left home. There’s no infection and no complications, no swelling or anything – he said that it’s back to normal and I believe him. I believe him because I believe that God is powerful and He answers prayers. He does.
So take from this what you will.
It’s up to you.
I choose to believe 🙂
