Nearly Two Minutes Too Late

“The lawn really needs to be cut; it is too long,” I said to my son. “I will phone Tony and see when he can do the job if he is not trucking still,” I called over my shoulder as I walked to the phone. Maybe his mother would know, I thought.

When the call was connected, I said, “Hello, Muriel! This is Muriel in McBride [our same-name joke]. Can you tell me where I can contact Tony? For three days, I have been phoning his number and no answer.” She replied, “Haven’t you heard what happened to him?” I had not heard, I told her. She continued.

“He is in the Prince George Hospital.” “What!” I exclaimed in shock. “Whatever happened? Did this occur while he was mowing someone’s lawn or hauling a load of logs up north?” I continued. His mother sadly replied, “No one saw the lawnmower accident actually occur. Shortly after the accident, a nearby workman saw that something was wrong, ran toward him, and shut off the motor. He endeavored to stop the bleeding. With help, they rushed him to the town hospital, where the doctor applied a tourniquet to arrest the bleeding of his left arm. He was then whisked one hundred and twenty miles [193 kilometers] to the large Prince George Hospital. There Tony was given thirty-plus units of blood to keep him alive. He had lost so much blood the doctor said that two minutes later, it would have been too late to save him.” Tony realized that God had saved his life —by two minutes! “Muriel,” I told Tony’s mother, “Mark and I will be going to Prince George on Friday. I am to have surgery, and we’ll go early so we may visit him.

We will also be praying for him.” On Thursday, we kept our appointments, bought our groceries, and ran other errands.

Then we went to see Tony in the afternoon.

Recently, I heard that Tony is able to drive his truck again.

He is of good courage and planning for the future.

God hears and answers our prayers.

Muriel Heppel