A Playground Accident

When my wife hung up the phone she could hardly get her words out, “Our son just fell off the slide at school. He’s hurt.” It was 1982. Our oldest child was six years old and in first grade at Whiteman Air Force Base Elementary School. He was a typical six-year-old, full of energy and not afraid of anything. Tall slides were nothing to be afraid of. Neither were asphalt playgrounds.
Fortunately, I was off duty that day, so as soon as I heard the news I was out the door without even waiting for my wife and on my way to the school. I didn’t know what to expect, but my mind was thinking of worst case scenarios. When I was his age I broke both the ulna and radial in my left forearm after falling from bicycle handle bars only three feet from the ground.
Picturing him with a broken arm or leg was nightmarish. Even worse, I remembered the story of a man who fell from a second story balcony and landed head first on the sidewalk. He fractured his skull and bled out. The thought that my son would be lying in a pool of blood was beyond terrifying; it was horrifying. The fear made it feel as though my car was instantly transported the mile or so from my home to the school.
I prayed for the safety of my children every night at bedtime. I took seriously the concept that the father is the priest of his family. I still pray for them every day even though my four children are adults and three of them have their own children.
Upon arriving at the school, I found a few students clustered in a small circle on the playground. If any teachers were there, they are gone from my memory though I’m certain they would have been there. My heart sank and the anxiety increased, despite my faith, as I ran toward the cluster.
Finding my son on his back with his eyes closed seemed to elicit my worst fear. Is he dead?
I knelt down beside him and placed my right hand on his forehead. I prayed for his life, for his health, for his total recovery from the fall. Looking around I wondered why the ambulance had not arrived. But I knew that if I prayed God would hear. I knew that even though a young boy fell from the top of a slide to land head first on asphalt, God could still take care of him.
As I knelt beside my unconscious son, I continued to pray. I knew the Bible said that through the stripes Jesus received, we are healed. After a few minutes my son opened his eyes. A few minutes later he sat up. A few minutes later he stood up.
There were no broken bones, no fractured skull and no blood. There was not even a concussion or contusion. He didn’t even have a bump on his head. How could it be that a young child could fall from the top of a slide and land on his head without serious injury? The Bible says the fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much (James 5:16). When I pray in Jesus’ name, God hears and answers. This time the answer was to heal my son. The Bible also says that underneath are the everlasting arms (Deuteronomy 33:27). Through His grace, God’s everlasting arms caught my son on his way down and saved his life.