Saying Thank You to the Man with the Healing Hands

Sitting at my desk today, coffee mug at hand, I can see them still. Running, laughing, leaping, darting here, wriggling there. All those children…

I’d told his story before in a column. How he’d been so sick when he came. How we’d prayed and God healed, and why ours and not others’ babies, I couldn’t explain it at all.

Looking at the card that had come, the kind doctor’s face shining on the front, we decided it was time. He was six now, Little was. Just this fall, the Class of 2025 had gone to school, and a new season had begun. Too, our boy had prayed the prayer that really matters, asking Jesus to be his Lord and Saviour for time and eternity. His love for Christ was true and sure, and this was a part of his story.

We told him again how he’d come too early. How he’d been very sick, but the Great Physician, He’d sent him one with skin on, a nice man who’d helped him get all better. Told him that God, He’d been watching, and He had a plan for his life. And off we went to the alumni reunion at the HealthWorks museum.

Standing at the bottom of the slide, watching for Little’s sneakers to come sailing down, I saw her. A young mother stood beside me, an infant strapped to her tummy. Up the ladder was her husband with a matching infant strapped to his. And down the slide came – not Little, but a tiny bottle rocket in panda shoes. Which, I noted, were on the wrong feet.

Turning to her, I smiled. “How old are your twins?” I said, offering Baby Isaac a finger.

“They’re four months old,” she said. “And her? She’s two. And that one there, she’s three. They’re mine.” I stood, mouth agape, looking at this cheerful, brave-spirited mama, her with the four tiny souls, ages three and under.

“She’s a miracle baby,” she continued, pointing at the “bottle rocket.” And she explained how they’d taken her early because of the dreaded Rh factor and the shot that didn’t work. How the numbers, they’d exploded, and she, she should’ve been dead. But she wasn’t. She was deaf, that’s all, and the implant behind her ear told that story.

Oh, she was a spunky one, the little mite in her panda shoes. God had a plan for her, and her parents were grateful.

Turning around, then, we saw him. There he came, Dr. Okanlami, bending low before a young boy in a wheelchair. Speaking gentle, smiling sweet, he knelt by that chair, parents hanging shy in the back.
And then it was our turn. We introduced him to Little. Told how grateful we were. Told what a difference he’d made in all of our lives. We shook his hand, looking straight into his kind face and said the words that seemed too small: “Thank you.”

And here is a fascinating followup: On the day the column sharing Little’s story was published, I contacted the media department at Memorial Hospital, wanting to share it with them and one more time, to say, “Just – thank you.” The manager of the media department was thrilled to hear about it. This is part of the email I received from her after she read Little’s story:

“What a beautiful moving tribute to an amazing man and your wonderful family. I read it with tears in my eyes, from the perspective of the other mom in your story. Dr. Okanlami also cared for my little boy, but sadly he did not live to play on swing sets. But without Dr. Okanlami’s expert care and loving hands, we would not have been given those amazing 5 months with him. Thank you for sharing your story.”

About Rhonda Schrock

Rhonda Schrock lives in Northern Indiana with her husband and 4 sons, ages 22 to 6. By day, she is a telecommuting medical transcriptionist. In the early morning hours, she flees to a local coffee shop where she pens “Grounds for Insanity,” a weekly column that appears in The Goshen News. She is an occasional guest columnist in The Hutch News. She’s also blogged professionally for her son’s school of choice, Bethel College, in addition to humor and parenting blogs. She is a writer and editor for the magazine, “Cooking & Such: Adventures in Plain Living.” She survives and thrives on prayer, mochas, and books. Her new home in cyberspace is at http://RhondaSchrock.com.

Comments

  1. Barb Snyder says:

    This is such a touching story and one of my favorite columns that Rhonda has written. This is the second time I’ve read it and I got chills all over again reading it this time.

  2. And you are blessed to know Little, aren’t you? You can’t look at that face (or those blue eyes) and not lose a bit of your heart. 🙂

  3. Beautiful story, Rhonda! Thank you for sharing it.

  4. This is one very special story to me. Our son came to us with a birth defect. He was in the children’s hospital in Indy for 20 days. I understand how you feel about that doctor.

  5. I’m sure you do, Cecelia. Thank you for telling me this. 🙂