My Son My Hero
by Duane Baggett
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In a life, that is as a vapor. We need to find all the things that are beautiful, sweet, lovely, and innocent.
I think back to how fearful I was, and how helpless I felt, when I was told by my doctor, while in the hospital, that my liver was almost gone, and I was terminally ill with end stages Cirrohsis of my liver, and how I needed a transplant and how I would succumb to the disease in a very short time.
I found out that I had Hepatitis C, some years earlier, while donating blood to the Red Cross, to send to our troops in Operation Desert Storm. I remember the day the letter came, and I read about the illness that I must have contracted, while working as a medical professional. I remember how fear came into my heart, because I had just fathered my son, and he was a baby. I remember praying to God on the spot, to keep my son from the disease. I felt like a betrayer, and a bringer of death on my new little boy. Praise God. He never got it. Praise God that we can know His nature and character by the renewing of our minds in the Word.
I came to know in some later years, that Satan was after me, and my son. And I know why.
Not long after the discovery of the hepatitis, I was at a Labor Day picnic with people from my job. It had rained heavily the night before, and the softball diamonds were muddy. We had came to barbeque, and to play softball. The diamonds were so muddy, we couldn't use them, so we made makeshift bases in the grass, chose up teams, and started to play.
I wish that I had wore other shoes that day, but all I had on was my Wal-Mart specially priced velcro sandals, and they weren't the safest things in the world to wear in the wet grass. I had to go running after an overthrown ball, that sailed over my head while I was playing firstbase. As I ran for it, I saw a puddle of water in the grass, and attempted to jump over it. (I didn't want my already waterlogged sandals to get any wetter. Go Figure) I came down on my left foot, after jumping, and lost my footing completely, my legs flailed into the air, and I felt like a cartoon character that had just lost its footing, and did a slow motion into the air, and then falling battering itself to pieces. I had landed on my left side, and I didn't know it at the time, but my back was broken.
From that day forward, I was on some kind of pain medicine to help with the pain of a commpression fractured back, and 2 herniated disks, along with a displaced tailbone. Needless to say. "I was a mess."
I was put on a drug called Methadone for chronic pain, and I was on it for almost three years. It was this medicine, and others that completely ruined my liver. The Hep-C was a huge factor, but it was the drugs in the end that did it.
I was in the hospital. I found out I was going to die, and didn't know how to tell my son. I finally determined myself to tell him, and when I thought he would break down, and cry. He did a most incredible thing. He looked at the ceiling and said, "God my daddy is sick, and is going to die please heal him." I grabbed him hugged him, and cried for a long time.
My sons prayer lit a fire under me to dare and believe God for healing.
I am now in a Evangelical ministry. It has been almost two years since his prayer. I am doing well. My son saved my life with his little prayer of faith. He is my hero. He is my son. He is the reason I look to things that are beautiful and lovely, and innocent. And I praise God for how He used what Satan meant for evil, and used it to help me, and to help others, I come across in ministry.
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