Speaking of Christmas miracles, well, I had one.

It just all depends on how you define a miracle.  We don’t often see miracles of biblical proportions in relation to how folks speak of miracles today.  On the other hand, by different measure, we see miracles frequently and all around. God is working all the time, and we ought not take it for granted.  We may miss miracles while looking for other things in other places. Well, this one was called a miracle, and I lived to see it. Rather, I should say, lived through it.

In most of His miraculous doings, God works on or through people.  God uses means, and we should always remember it lest we remove ourselves from His service.  Nothing has been quite as rewarding to me as the knowledge that I have been able to be used of God.  Several individuals had parts in my Christmas miracle although I’m sure they weren’t thinking of it in those terms at the time.  God uses people to bring about His plans, but human error is involved, even in the miracle business. It’s really just like life in that God uses faulty people and faulty deeds to bring about faultless beauty.

Santa Claus was coming to town, and I had gotten a haircut to make myself presentable on his arrival.  My dad had taken me to Paige’s Barber Shop on December 23, 1964, and we were just leaving to add our ingredients to the holiday bustle when time stood still.

The beginning of errors was fomenting in my childish mind as we stood on the corner hand-in-hand.  Inexperience can be dangerous. I was thinking of the Road Runner cartoons when I released my father’s hand and said, “Hey, Dad, I’ll race ya to the car.” I didn’t make it across the street.

My uncle was driving toward the intersection.  He and my father were best friends in high school.  As the eldest grandchild, I got a lot of his attention and felt he doted on me.  On this day, he did much more than that. We met in the middle of that small street.

The collision pulled me under the car.  I can only imagine the horror of the moment.  The second error was one of reflexive action. I was underneath the front axle with my head inside one of the wheel wells.  It was later said that another revolution of the wheel would have crushed my skull. Dad pulled me from under the car, not thinking of possible spinal cord injury.  I am grateful that I am not paralyzed today.      

My father told me that for years he could hear the sound of the collision when he closed his eyes.  The foolishness of a child and the well-intentioned but uninformed response of an adult could spell disaster for anyone, and there have been many for which either has done just that.  We do not know why all of us are not destroyed, only that God sometimes allows the mists of our lives to continue for brief duration. I have lived times over my age on that day and have experienced grace for grief on many other occasions.  

The third error was procedural in nature.  Two police officers were just down the street when the accident occurred.  They came quickly to the scene whereupon one officer informed, “Don’t worry, I saw everything that happened.”  The other made a judgment call for which a write-up might be in order today. He said, “I’m not waiting for anybody else.  We’re going to the hospital.” By some measures, they may have been out-of-line, but I’m thankful they took charge. God is still looking for people to step up to the plate and do what needs to be done in an emergency.

Though it has grown substantially, Greenville, NC was not a large place at the time.  Pitt Memorial Hospital is state of the art today, but I don’t know what state the art was in at that time.  My father climbed into the back of the squad car with me in his arms. For all they knew, I was dead. I was not breathing and showed no signs of life.

As the patrol car made its way to the hospital, I screamed, fell silent and began to breathe.  One of the officers said, “That’s a sweet sound.” Today, emergency medical preparedness is quite advanced.  I’m glad it was sufficient for me on that day. I would not be at Pitt Memorial long.

The next morning, Dr. Harr told my parents, “There’s nothing we can do for him here.  In the next few hours, he’s going to take a turn one way or the other. I have made arrangements to send him to Duke University.”  Now, Duke was a top five medical facility nationally, but medicine can only go so far. It may have seemed incongruous that there were not many discernable injuries, and I had no broken bones, but, in 1964, there was far less could be done for closed head injuries at current.  

In all, I was unconscious for four and a half days.  My pastor sat with my parents during this bleak time.  He cast his bread on the waters, and it returned to him when my parents were able to comfort him after his daughter’s fatal car crash.  I was fortunate to be attended by Dr. Blaine Nashhold, one of the top neurosurgeons in the southeast at the time.

In heaven’s time, Dr. Nashhold came to my parents and said, “It’s a miracle.”  I honestly remember waking. There was a Christmas stocking on the end of my bed, and I said, “Santa Claus has been here.”  But Someone Else had been there, and, now, I know that the One for whom the season is named was the real attending.

Several years ago (and many years after), I was mixing at a National Association of Free Will Baptists when a woman, older than myself, approached me from behind and took hold of my arm.  Breaking my conversation, I turned to see inquisitive eyes and a slightly puzzled expression. She asked, “Are you Sterl?” Always glad to be recognized, I smiled and nodded in the affirmative.  Smiling back, she said, “We prayed for you.”  

Really, I suppose I missed Christmas, but I didn’t miss Christ.  I committed my life to Him six months prior on a Sunday morning in Jacksonville, FL.  Christ was in the room with me at Duke University Hospital and cradled me under the automobile on Dickinson Avenue.  He is with me now as I write these words. I believe there is a purpose for my life.

While I don’t remember the gifts I received on Christmas 1964, I will never forget God’s watchcare over me.  

Sterl