When
I was 11 years old, I had gotten up by myself one February Sunday
morning. My neighbors were coming to pick me
and some other neighborhood kids up to go to church in town. We lived
way back in a holler not unlike where Loretta Lynn grew up. My mom told me
our house was originally a chicken coop. There
were seven of us who lived in that little 3 bedroom coop of a home, with no
indoor plumbing. Heat was a wood stove. Our hot water heater was a kettle on the wood stove. An old primed hand well pump for
fresh cold water was at the kitchen sink. It was spring-fed and the
sweetest water you ever tasted! (I know there's a good sermon point
here somewhere). Foolishly, when my parents weren't up yet, I decided
I would take the tea kettle off the stove to pour into the kitchen sink to
wash my hair. I didn't lift it high enough, which caused that scalding water to spill over my
legs and feet. I was transported by ambulance to the county hospital with
first to third degree burns. The pain was unbearable. The attending
doctor said I would most likely need skin grafts. I was treated and sent home. Day and night, it seemed like it would never stop burning. In a short amount of time, I had huge blisters from both knees down to the ends of toes, and then the skin turned a nasty, gross green. Infection was always a concern. The remedy for healing, always strange to me, was for my mother to soak my feet and legs in warm to hot water with pure soap in it. And then apply vitamin E to them. Good times!
In
a follow up visit, my family doctor said
he would have to get all that old skin off. He then began a procedure at
the top of my legs and SCRAPED all that dead skin off down to my toes. There was nothing administered for pain, and it seemed like
an eternity! It was more than my little mind could comprehend! I thought my precious Mother would lose hers too as she and the doctor's nurse
held me down! Later a friend of mine, who is also a nurse, told me it
was called 'Scaling'.- how appropriate. That accident was an absolutely miserable, painful, drawn-out
experience for me and my family.
But I
remember, right after the accident happened, church members, full of
faith, who attended the little church I went to, asked my parents if
they could come and pray for me. My
parents were not Christians, but agreed. Members came to our home, laid their hands on
my legs and feet and asked God to heal me. In time, God did just that. Do you know that I did not have to have
any skin graft procedures or any surgeries? I do not have ONE residual scar, pain
or any problems as a result of that accident. I can walk fine and my skin
looks beautiful. Today, I give God praise for that awful experience.
It taught me so much about faith and prayer. And every time I experience a burn of any sort, it takes me back to that Sunday morning. It reminds me that the Lord does heal and He
did it just for me-and those that prayed that prayer of faith. It also is a reminder to me of His willingness to go to the cross in our place. Because of Christ, no one has to go where the fire is not quenched!
