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Six days before Christmas in 1998, my dad, my brother Michael
and I were putting up Christmas lights. My dad stood on a 16-foot
ladder, attaching lights to the top of the house. We had another
strand of lights that had a few bulbs that didn’t work, so Dad asked if
Michael and I could replace the bulbs.
We weren’t in the garage for more than two minutes when we heard
a loud thump, followed by a moan. Michael and I jumped,
then ran from the garage to my dad. He was on the ground bleeding
all over, and his face was cut up.
I started crying and screaming. The rest of my family came running
out of the house. My mom looked at Dad, started crying and yelled
at Michael to call 911. Soon loud sirens and bright lights filled our
yard as Dad was rushed to the hospital.
My mom stayed with us a few hours then had a friend baby-sit us
while she went to see my dad. She spent the night in the hospital.
The following day, my sister Melody and her husband picked us up
to go to the hospital. I was very nervous.
When we got there, we found out that my dad had broken his right
kneecap in five places, broken four teeth, bruised his nose and
cheekbone, and had cuts all over. All I could do was cry, but my
mom said it would be all right.
And Mom was right. Here it is five years later and my dad is
completely healed, although he has a few metal pins in his kneecap
to hold it together. You would have thought he’d have about 25
scars, but he doesn’t. He only has one! Now that’s a miracle. Thank
You, Jesus!
Kimberly, 14
Washington
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