Yesterday I went to the Medical College of Georgia in Augusta to the Burn Center. I accompanied my daughter and her 3 year old, Miller, who had accidentally placed his hand on the hot stove eye. Miller burned his thumb, 3 fingers, and palm. Blisters and dead flesh were all that was left of that small hand.
Now you must know that Miller is an active guy who moves like the speed of light. He has two speeds off and full speed ahead. Miller pushed up a chair to “help” Dad cook. Maddox yelled from the other room and when Dad went to check, Miller decided that he needed his DS out of the cabinet and proceeded to crawl across the stove top to get it.
Dr. Henry dressed the wound and made arrangements at the Burn Center. So by 6:00 a.m. the three of us are on our way. Miller was sedated and the specialists removed several layers of skin on his hand. The burn went deep but the doctor cleansed it and applied a graft of cadaver skin. Owing to Miller’s youth and good health, he foresaw no permanent damage only perhaps a scar. And knowing Miller, it will be only one scar of many.
The drive took 2 hours, the wait was 2 hours, the surgery was 20 minutes. Miller was his old self on the way home asking for an Orange Slurpy and popping M&Ms as fast as I could pass them to the back seat. My daughter remarked on the answered prayers, the safe drive, and the clear weather when suddenly one of us remembered that it was Palm Sunday.
Someone”s loved one donated their skin so that Miller could have this much needed graft. Someone who possessed within them the Christlike spirit that we celebrate on Resurrection Sunday. This day on the church calendar will never again be the same for me. Palm Sunday has a double meaning both physical and spiritual — one of sacrifice and love.