Chapter
seven
The House
When I arrived at the house, I knew we were
facing something big. I had feared that all along. I had hoped that this was a simple
break-in. Matt lived in a rather secluded spot just off the highway. The
property also backed up to the high school. My heart sank as we pulled into the
driveway.
My first clue was all the flashing blue and
red lights. There were police and fire trucks from several municipalities and
different locations. Yellow tape surrounded the house and drive.
I froze. I mean I literally froze. My legs
would not move. I was sick to my stomach but not like I was about to throw up.
It was more like I was weak. I believe now if I had gotten up, I would have
fainted. That kind of sick. I had been dealing with this possibility and now it
was happening. All my praying and I was still having to face this! Lord, help
me, please!
Joe got out of the car and went over to talk
to the policemen, sheriff deputies, firemen, and plain clothes detectives. This
was BIG! I simply sat in the car. I don’t remember if I prayed or cried, I
think I simply just sat. Thoughts were going through my mind faster than the
speed of light. That, in itself, can cause nausea.
Matt had told us ways he had gotten money
for his drug use and we thought maybe he had been caught stealing. This was
much worse. Joe returned to the car with the news. It was drug related but the
detectives would not share how at the time because there was an ongoing
investigation. He did tell Joe that Matt
was in over his head.
In over his head? What did that mean? I
could not even think of that at that time. I had a son who might be dying from
a gunshot wound lying at the trauma unit at UAB. In hindsight, I do think the authorities
were more concerned in the drug investigation than the home invasion. No one ever
attempted to locate the shooter.
Chapter
Eight
The
Hospital
When we arrived at UAB we went immediately
into a conference with the surgeon. According to his observation of the entry
wound and the exit wound, Matt had been shot at close range by a high-powered
weapon. Entry wound? Exit would? I had never thought about a bullet making two
holes, but I guess that makes sense. Really, nothing was making sense at the
time.
He explained that the bullet had entered
Matt’s shoulder, possible hitting his clavicle, then exiting just below his
lung. Matt had also lost quite a bit of blood. I was no expert but I knew this was serious.
What he wanted us to do was to sign to give permission to operate. I asked
about our financial obligation and was assured that Matt would be the
responsible party since he was a 30-year-old adult male. He also warned us that
this was a very serious situation. He would not know the extent of Matt’s
injury until he went in for the surgery. There was a possibility that Matt
could lose his arm, or worse, he might not make it.
So
there sat Joe and I, pondering and praying for our son’s life. I had long since
realized I had no control in the outcome of Matt’s life. I had tried every
possible way to control his actions. I had chased him down, traced phone
numbers, looked up car tags, kicked him out, bailed him out, prayed with him,
and prayed for him. I had finally decided to give my problem with Matt over to
the Lord. Only those who have been in extreme situations understand that there
comes a point when the physical body can do no more to influence or control
another individual’s actions. Hopefully, most people will realize this truth
before their conditions become so critical. I was at peace that God was in
control. But Joe had not reached that point. He had left much of the
consequences up to me because we would argue about how to handle Matt. He felt
like I was undermining his decisions but the Holy Spirit would often direct me
to a new path. Add my grandmother to the equation and Joe was very disgusted
and frustrated with everything relating to Matt and rules.
After a six-hour surgery, the surgeon
met with us to explain the “miracle.” The bullet had entered Matt’s arm at just
the right place. A half inch in one direction would have cost him his arm, a
half inch in the other direction would have blown his heart apart. RIGHT WHERE
IT NEEDED TO BE! I honestly got chills when the doctor told me those words. Or
maybe it was a nudge from above to remind me who was in control.
The doctor was able to save Matt’s arm
but the incision was unbelievably difficult to look at. I don’t remember the number of stitches and
staples but his scar runs from the top of his shoulder down past his elbow.
We waited to see him after recovery. It
had been a difficult night for all of us, but Matt had survived. By the Grace of God, he had made it. I knew
at that point God had a specific plan for his life. I just didn’t know how
difficult the plan would be for all of the family. Joe and I talked to Matt
about telling the truth. We soon found out that he had heeded our advice at the
worst possible moment.
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