OUR 34 YEAR OLD MIRACLE

A little more than 34 years ago, my wife informed me that she was having strange pains. I was concerned of course, but I didn’t think it was too serious. After all, she was pregnant, and discomfort comes with the territory. Right? Right. It couldn’t be labor pains because she was barely seven months along.

As day turned to night, the pain got worse, so we headed to the hospital, over fifty miles away. When we arrived, we found out it was labor pains, after all. The doctor said it was way too early, and the baby was way too small. He wasn’t due for almost three whole months, so they had to try to stop the labor.

They gave my wife medication for hours, and then hours turned into days. After a few days, the doctor decided he couldn’t stop the labor with the medication. To try any longer could harm the baby if it hadn’t already. He was going to come out.

We knew he was a boy and had already named him Zakary; with that weird spelling. It doesn’t seem that weird to me at all, though. It’s a better way to spell the name than ZACHARY, which I’ve never really liked at all. I guess that’s why I wanted to spell it differently. His mother wanted to name him after Zach from the TV show we loved called Saved By The Bell. She said we could name him Zakary, and call him Zak, which she never did. I got the spelling for the name from a baseball card I had of Zakary Taylor.

For months, we had been anticipating his arrival, and we were so ready to hold him in our arms, but now we were worried; really worried. It’s too early. He’s too small. He may not survive, and if he does, he may have lots of problems.

Wanting to prepare us for the worst, the doctor said, “his lungs are not developed yet. We need to give him a few rounds of steroids to help them develop. Even then, there’s no guarantee. He’ll have to stay in the hospital for a good while. He only weighs about three pounds.”

Frightening news, but we were praying, and begging God to let our son be alright. We knew God could make everything okay. He had so many times before. But, there had also been times I had prayed when things hadn’t gone well, so I was still worried.

After a few more days, and some more steroids, the doctor said he couldn’t hold back the labor any longer. We would just have to deal with whatever problems the baby would have as a result of being premature. So the next step was to go ahead and let him come out, and start working on him to ensure his survival. So, they broke the water, and we waited.

Not long into our wait, the nurses ran into the room and started checking the machines. The machines were working properly. The baby’s heart had stopped. It started back, but his heart rate kept dropping back down. After his heart stopped a second time, they rushed us down to the operating room and began a C-section to get him out as soon as possible. In no time, the doctor had him out and held him up. He was alive and breathing on his own, and he soon let everyone in the room know for sure that his lungs were well-developed. We were so happy to hear him crying.

What a miracle! The premature baby with undeveloped lungs, which the doctor said only weighed three pounds, turned out to have great lungs, and weighed over seven pounds. Praise the Lord! Thank you, Jesus.

As I held my firstborn son in my arms, I was filled with joy and awe. God had given me my heart’s desire; a son. The Bible tells us that children are a blessing from the Lord (Psalm 127:3-5). That day, that blessing was bestowed on me, and I thanked God for giving me a son.

Today, we're celebrating Zakk’s 34th birthday. That’s over a quarter of a century. It sounds like a long time, but in some ways, it seems like only yesterday when I first looked into the eyes of that beautiful blessing from God. He’s grown into a fine young man, and I’m so proud of him. He reminds me so much of me when I was his age. I love him so much, and I thank God for him, and for the awesome miracle he performed for us 34 years ago.

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THE GRASS IS NOT ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER SIDE

I remember when I was twelve years old, we moved to a new place. It was beautiful, especially after four years of living beside the busy highway. The view of nothing but cars and trucks going back and forth, like rows of ants, got old after a while. Now, we were in a new place. A beautiful place. A place that reminded me of the old west that I had seen on TV. There were fields, and pastures with cows, and horses, creeks and springs, hills and valleys, and a big river where we could fish and swim. Like I said, it was a beautiful place.

I remember immediately wanting to explore as much of my new environment as I possibly could, but my grandmother, being the great parent she was, had some concerns. There were snakes, and other critters to watch out for, and she was worried about us being around a big body of water without adult supervision. She loved us, and she wanted us to have fun but she also wanted us to be safe, so we had time limits on how long we could be gone from the house before we had to come back and let her know we were okay. We didn’t have cell phones back then, and who knows what could happen in a place like that? I was allowed to explore, but she said I needed to check in every hour so she wouldn’t worry so much.

One day, while exploring down by the river, I found an open space in the woods, with a mixture of green grass, and brown weeds, that was totally different from any of the other places I had seen around the river. It wasn’t actually beautiful, like a flower garden. It was very interesting. I was so amazed that God would put that spot there in the middle of the woods where very few people would ever see it. I visited that place time and time again. There was just something about it that kept drawing me back.

I also noticed something else very interesting. Directly across the river, there was a spot without trees that looked quite similar to the spot where I was standing. It appeared to be about the same shape and size as the one on my side of the river. Maybe they were both once part of the same spot before the river ever came through. There was something different about it, though. That grass looked much greener and thicker than the grass on the side where I was. I had to get over there and visit that spot; I just had to.

The desire was so strong that, if I had known how to swim then, I might have jumped in the water, and tried to make it to the other side that day, but I used my common sense and resisted the temptation. I formulated a plan, and the next day I put it into action. I had one hour. I knew there was a bridge somewhere down the river because we had crossed it several times going to my uncle’s house. So, I said goodbye to my sisters and my grandmother and calmly walked toward the field that led to the woods by the river. Then as soon as I was out of sight, I ran as fast as I could for as long as I could. I had to make it to that bridge as soon as possible.

I crossed fence after fence and field after field. I kept thinking it should be just around the next turn, only to be disappointed again and again. I started thinking I would never get there. I finally did make it to the bridge and crossed it. Then I headed back up the river on that side in search of that beautiful oasis in the woods. My hour was pretty much up by the time I reached my destination, so I didn’t get to spend much time there, but that wasn’t the most disappointing part. It wasn’t near as beautiful, nor as green as it had appeared when I saw it from the other side of the river. Now it looked exactly like the spot I had viewed it from on the opposite bank. In fact, the spot I had first visited on the other side looked a lot like the spot where I was now standing did when I was on the other side.

When I think about that experience, an old saying comes to mind; “The Grass Is Always Greener On The Other Side.” Well, I can testify that it’s not! I know that phrase is usually spoken sarcastically, and I wish I could say I learned that lesson that day, but, sadly, I can’t. I was raised going to church, and reading the Bible. I was taught to do right, and to avoid “sinful pleasures,” but I still left home at sixteen, and went to the “other side.” After about three years of “sinful pleasure,” I did finally realize that the grass is NOT always greener on the other side. That’s when I truly realized what a sinner I was, and how much I needed a savior.

It’s sad that we humans don’t often learn from the mistakes of others, or the wisdom of those who have been there, and warn us of things we need to avoid. It’s sad that we have to be in the mud with the pigs to see how much better it is to be clean, but that just seems to be human nature.

So when you look at something and think it looks better than where you are now, don’t be so quick to go after it. Investigate first. Pray and see what God says, and remember, the grass is NOT always greener on the other side.

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My Blogs
https://teddylynn.blogspot.com
https://teddylynn.wordpress.com

© 2015 Teddy Lynn – All Rights Reserved

My books are available in paperback and digital format on Amazon @ 
https://www.amazon.com/Teddy-Lynn/e/B01MZDB6L6