My Monday memory focuses on one summer day, circa 1950. The accident that happened that particular day could have changed my family’s future in significant ways. Every summer my family headed to New Braunfels, TX to spend a few days as near to the 4th of July as possible. Daddy was able to get the Friday and Monday off every year so it was always a long weekend stay. It was a family affair as we always did a combined birthday celebration. My sister, who was two years older, had a birthday on June 29th and mine was on July 7th.
My aunt, uncle and three cousins always went along, which made the celebration even that much more fun. We traveled in station wagons in those days and they allowed us kids to “mix and match” in either of the cars. It was about a four hour drive from Houston, just long enough to be exciting. We always tried to read all of the Burma Shave signs and played games the whole way. Count all the blue cars, etc. Our moms always cooked lots of food before we left home and brought tons of fried chicken, potato salad and all the goodies.
We stayed in rustic cabins along the Comal river there. The river wound around behind the cabins and we loved floating it in tubes. This was to be my 9th birthday and I my sister was 11. She was such a beautiful lady-like redheaded girl, tall and radiant for her age ~ she turned many heads everywhere she went. I, on the other hand, was a skinny tomboy who didn’t mind getting my brownish hair wet and loved to try and swim in that river. My younger brother was to turn 7 in August. We were a happy little family. My daddy was going to actually teach me how to swim the rapids so that I could jump off the rope swing that summer.
There were such wonderful traditions that we shared in New Braunfels. At least two trips per visit to the Comal Creamery for the best home-churned ice cream cones ~ the biggest in Texas. A trip to the German sausage maker for my daddy’s favorite sausage and a trip to the bakery for my mom’s favorite baked goods. And, last, but not least was my daddy’s first dive into the cold waters of that narrow river. He almost touched the other shore every year.
This year the river was much more shallow than normal. As my daddy came up, he was holding his head and it was bleeding profusely. He had hit his head on a large, sharp rock and was dazed. All of us kids were standing on the shore in tears. We screamed for our mom to come. When she got there she went into the river and walked him out. They were both ghostly white and we kids were scared.
I was first and foremost a “daddy’s girl” for as far back as I could remember. The thought that he had been seriously hurt became evident as my mom turned us all over into my aunt’s watchful care and left to find the town doctor. As it turned out he was working in his flower garden when my parents arrived and rushed them into his kitchen where he cleaned daddy’s cut and stitched him up. (Mom remembered later that he did not wash his hands.) He prescribed some antibiotics and sent them back to our cabin telling my daddy to go to bed and get some rest. The accident happened on Friday afternoon, and my daddy told mom we would be fine going home on Monday.
By Saturday morning, daddy was in pain and was running a fever. Mom wanted to pack up and get us home so she could take daddy to our own doctor. Daddy did not want to spoil our trip and told her the fever would surely break. Every time one of us kids would go to the cabin to check on him, he and mom sent us back to the river to play.
By Sunday morning, daddy’s fever had climbed and he was much worse. Mom immediately started packing and asked our aunt and uncle to take all of us kids back home in their wagon. She told us much later that she drove way too fast back to Houston and went right to the emergency room. They admitted daddy right away. It took several hours for the fever to break and the cut was terribly infected. Our family doctor told my mom that her decision to get him to the hospital most likely saved his life. By God’s mercy and grace my daddy did not die. We were a choir-singing, God-loving church family and gave God the praise and glory as we all joined hands at home in a prayer of thanksgiving.
“Sing praises to the LORD, O you his faithful ones, and give thanks to his holy name.” ~ Psalm 30:4
From a child’s point of view, I was praying for a miracle from the time the accident happened. I wonder if it is because of the child-like faith that was in my heart that I had the courage to ask God for a miracle? I don’t ask for them very much as an adult.
Have you ever experienced a great miracle in your life and known that it was granted by the mercy and grace of God? God is the only one who deserves the praise for anything good in our lives. Remember to keep your focus on God and give Him the glory for the victory He gives you. Will you share God’s miracle in your life with us?
“For the LORD is good. His unfailing love continues forever, and his faithfulness continues to each generation.” ~ Psalm 100:5
“But as for me, I will sing about your power. I will shout with joy each morning because of your unfailing love. For you have been my refuge, a place of safety in the day of distress.” ~ Psalm 59:16
Here’s a link to find out more information about the area (you can see that the Comal river did not contain boulders like the one I used for my picture): http://texashillcountry.com/comal-littlest-river-german-settlers/ (To return to this page after looking at the link, click the x in the tab.)
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