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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