Through The Eye's Of A Child

When I was a little girl my Mother had to have several moles removed. On 'stitch removal day' my Mom, Dad, Sister and myself loaded in the car to drive to a town two miles away to see the doctor. Everyone went, you see it was 'way back when' and there wasn't much to do. No color TV, computers, hand held games; they had barely discovered electricity.

On the way home Mom and I decided to race to the only bathroom in our quaint little trailer house. When the car came to a stop, we both sprang into action. As we rounded the corner of the bathroom laughing, pushing, shoving to be first, both of the freshly healed wounds broke open to every one's horror. Mom lay on the couch bleeding, my much older sister Melinda began to cry as Dad made that long distant phone call to the doctor 2 miles away.

I being the bright innovate child of the family, grabbed a banana, removed the Chiquita sticker and placed it squarely on my mothers forehead as I waltzed out the front door. When I arrived at the next door neighbor's house I said, "May I please stay here? My house is going crazy. My Dad is nervous and calling the doctor, my sister is crying and my Mother is bleeding all over the furniture."

I've learned a lot since then . . . for instance, it takes more than a Chiquita banana sticker to bind up a wound. Psalms 147:3 says, "He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds."