Don't waste a tragedy - use it to help others!

In the mid-80’s I had my first heart attack.  I was not sick and I certainly was not aware that anything was wrong with my heart.  It was a beautiful morning and I decided to go on a bike ride with my nephew who was about ten at the time.  When we got a few blocks from our home I noticed that I was un-usually tired.

I kept pushing myself because my nephew was excited about going on a ride with his Uncle Tommy.  I told him as we approached a bridge that when we got to the other side to take the side road and stop.  As we reached the spot where I had instructed him to stop I fell from the bike and I knew I was going to pass out.  I felt NO pain!  I told him to go to a payphone and call Jesus Martinez an employee to come immediately.  When I came to I was at the Methodist’s Hospital in Houston, Texas being prepped for surgery.

At that time heart surgery was much different than it is today.  The time in I.C.U. and in a hospital room before being released was much longer.  It took months to recuperate and return to work.

I recuperated at a small farm I had in Highland, Texas.  One Sunday morning before church I got up before the others and walked down to the pond to pray and read my Bible.  When I began to return to the house I noticed this large pile of logs that had been cut about two years earlier and had never been burned because it was so large I was afraid the fire might not be manageable.  Then the switch went off in my brain that today was the time to burn that eyesore.

I went to the barn to get a five gallon can of diesel fuel and discovered there was none, but there was a five gallon can of gasoline.  I took the gasoline climbed up on the pile and poured it out over the logs.  I went to the house and got a newspaper and made it into the shape of a basketball. I intended to throw it upon the fire from a distance. 

As I struck the match to light the newspaper there was instantly a rush of fire from the pile of logs to me.  My clothes were made of nylon and they melted to my body. All my hair was burned off.  I first began to run and then I fell to the ground and rolled to put the fire out. 

I went to the house and got in the shower and called to a family member to come to my room where I was showering in cold water.  I told him what had happened and that I needed to go to the hospital.  He opened the shower door and yelled, “My God, I have to get an ambulance.”  I told him I did not want to wake anyone else up and just drive me to the hospital. 

At the time I guess I was in shock and did not realize how bad it was.  On the way to the hospital the pain began and it was like no pain I had ever experienced. 

Infection is the enemy of a burn and there is a process called debriding of the skin that must be done.  The process requires that the skin be scrubbed to get rid of the dead skin and needless to say it is painful.  There are exercises that must be done to stretch the skin so you can eventually move as normal as possible.

The doctors advised me that I would most likely have scars and it was possible that plastic surgery could not repair all the damage.  There were no mirrors in the room because they do not want you to see the damage until they think you are mentally prepared to deal with it..

As a young minister I was assigned to the call on patients at the burn center and I often said, “I know it hurts” or even more stupid, “I know how you feel.”  I realized when I actually experienced the same thing how foolish those words were.  I had no idea at the time I spoke them what they were going through or how much pain they were in.

Many times I said, “Why me God!”  I could not imagine anything good coming out of this experience.  I certainly did not see how it benefited God in anyway.  It would be months before I could return to my ministry.

Years later I got a call late one Saturday night from a man in our church.  He said, “Father I do not think we have enough wine for services in the morning.  I got up and dressed and went to a twenty-four hour Wal-Mart.  As I stood in line to check out I noticed a young boy bandaged as I had been sitting with his mother.  When I checked out I went to him and began talking to him and his mother said, “Father, he will not talk to you.  He has not spoken to anyone in three months.” 

I continued to talk to the boy and I told him I really did know what he was going through because I had been through the same.  After a while he said, “If you were burned where are the scars?”

I told him the doctors had told me I would be scared, but I prayed and I did everything the doctors told me to regardless of how painful it was. 

My recovery was so remarkable they video the process and the video was used in teachings medical students and doctors on treating burn patients.  

I continued to visit the boy at the Shriner’s Burn Center in Galveston, Texas until he returned to Argentina.  Unfortunately he did have some scaring, but when he left he was optimistic and anxious to see his friends and family back home.

All those years I wondered “why” and then I realized God had given me an opportunity to minister to and help a young boy that was going through the same tragedy I experienced.  No one can comfort someone like a person that has experienced the same pain they are going through. Christ needed to experience the same suffering and pain humans do to understand what we go thorough and to be truly human.

One other miracle in the story is that when burned people normal take a deep breath and it damages the lungs.  As a matter of fact the doctors said they had never seen anyone burned as I was that did not have lung damage.  The only explanation they could give was I mush not have gasp because I had no lung damage.

Please, don’t waste a tragedy.  Learn from it and find a way to use it to benefit others. I do not always understand why bad things happen, but I am convinced God can use any tragedy for His good and for the good of others.