Last week the Progress featured a story about a two-year-old who emerged from a hospital virtually unscathed after being accidentally run over by his mother.
To get the full impact of what happened, you need to see the photo of the child in his mother’s arms standing with the rest of the family around a sturdy wooden cross they keep permanently in their front yard.
That they are devout Christians goes without saying. Looking at the boy, he is as small as toddlers are. The mother holds him without effort. In contrast, the vehicle involved was a Chevrolet Suburban – among the most humongous SUV’s on the road.
Even before we had the story on the page, staff members were speculating on different explanations: maybe the car didn’t go right over the child; maybe a toy wagon that was also crushed bore the brunt of the vehicle; maybe it had something to do with the tires.
Maybe all those things had some factor, but maybe it was just a miracle. Sherlock Holmes regularly advised Watson that when you rule out all the wrong the answers, the solution is found. In this case, the fact that the boy not only survived but literally toddled away is a miracle. Period.
The speculation about the tires or the toy wagon don’t explain to any rational mind why the kid was spared serious injury.
To be clear, the child was hurt––his hip bone came through the skin, and he was bloody. When he got to the local hospital, they saw fit to transport him by helicopter to Egleston Children’s Hospital in Atlanta. This wasn’t a case where the kid was just bumped or the car merely grazed him. You don’t get life-flighted for minor contact.
All experienced parents know children are much tougher than non-parents and grandparents believe. They survive all kinds of mishaps that would cripple a professional wrestler: bike wrecks, falls down stairs, furniture landing on them when tower building goes wrong.
But there’s no way even the toughest hellion kid at two years old and less than 50 pounds walks away from an encounter with the underside of a Suburban. Based on an Internet search, a Chevy Suburban’s weight varies depending on exactly which model it is and which year it was built, but the lowest estimated weight was 3,500 pounds with several estimates above 6,000 pounds.
So, as far as we’re concerned, it’s a miracle. No other explanation comes to mind.
The marquee on a Cove Road church recently said something to the effect of “Where science ends, God begins.”
The family involved said they saw visions before the accident, including a “death spirit” underneath the car. They believe their prayers in advance kept the child safe.
Few attendees at mainstream churches cite visions any longer. Also rare are people who acknowledge miracles on a regular basis.
Maybe we’re too jaded and sophisticated in this modern day to put stock in visions and prayers.
But one thing is for sure: that toddler is still walking around, and that is miracle as far as we are concerned.