Why I Count my Blessings
Have you ever read an article in the newspaper which caused your heart to ache for someone that you did not know? You may have read about an accidental shooting that involved a couple of playmates or about the couple, who on their honeymoon, died from a head- on collision with a drunk driver, or possibly read about a parent who abused their child for wetting the bed. Those are some of the news articles that had lingered on my mind long after I had read the newspaper and finished my morning coffee. I used to think to myself, "those poor people, how tragic, how sad."I never realized before experiencing my own newspaper article, how much more devastating it was when it happened to me. Since the near death experience of my son, I have come to learn the power of prayer, and that life should never be taken for granted. It was Tuesday November 7th, 1989, a day that I on often to remind myself not to take life for granted. I was a server at IHOP and my husband was a cook there. We worked different shifts to avoid having to pay a lot of money for daycare or babysitters. On this particular day I was working until 2:30 pm and my husband, Jon, would start his shift at 3pm. Most days before he would arrive at work he would pick up our two oldest children, Brian and Susie, from school. Jeremy, our baby who had just turned seven months old, would have already taken his nap before coming to the IHOP. Several days before, while Jeremy was in his crib to take a nap, he learned to hang onto the railings and pull himself up. He was so proud of himself; he would jump up and down while hanging onto the front railing of the crib. This particular day was no different with the exception of the latch on the railing coming undone while he was jumping. Jeremy had gone tumbling out of his crib, hitting his head on the way down. There was a bureau a couple of feet away which belonged to our oldest son Brian, who at the time shared a room...
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