When my middle son was a toddler, I had stepped out of the room he was playing in for just a minute. I was on my way back to the room, when I heard him cry out. I ran in, to find him face down on the floor, holding two crayons tightly in his hand. His brother had been coloring and the crayons had been on the table, and as soon as I stepped out, Aaron somehow got the two crayons from the table and was walking with them in his hand – then stumbled and fell, face down.
As I ran to him, I saw the crayons still tightly clinched in his hand, and I did not know what I would find when I rolled him over. I could see where the blunt ends of the crayons he was holding had hit the floor with the impact. Aaron was still crying. When I rolled him over his eyes were tightly closed and there was fluid underneath his eyes. I did not know if it was just tears or fluid from his eye if perhaps the crayons punctured his eye when he fell. As I held him, I gently pulled the eyelid open to see his eye. What I saw looked like a damaged eyeball, rolled back in the eye socket. I frantically called my pediatrician, who told me to bring him to his office immediately.
Aaron was still crying, but not a screaming cry. It was a sad, constant cry. He would not open his eyes, and he would not stop his mournful cry. As I put him into the car, he was still crying, and still not opening his eyes. As I drove to the doctor’s office, trying so hard not to be completely frantic so that I couldn’t drive, I cried out with all my heart to Jesus for help. It is the first time in my life I remember crying out to God from the very depths of my heart. I remember where I was on the road, about 4 miles from our house, when I was asking God not to take my little boy’s eye. I told him I would do anything, that He could take my eye instead, but I was begging him not to take my child’s eye.
I continued driving and praying. Aaron, in the middle seat of the van, continued crying that moaning cry and still would not open his eyes. I would glance back at him in my rear view mirror periodically to check on him, but there was never any change.
When we were about 3 miles away from the doctor’s office, Aaron immediately stopped crying, and said, “Momma”. I looked in the rear view mirror and he was looking at me. No tears, no crying, no wiping his eyes, nothing. He was fine in that instant. But I was not going to stop praying until I knew for sure he was alright. I kept praying until we reached the doctor’s office, pulled in, and the nurses took us immediately back for the doctor to examine his eye.
A young doctor came in immediately to examine Aaron’s eye, and while doing so he wanted me to tell him what had happened and what I saw when I pulled the eyelid back. I told him exactly what I described above. The nurse put some special dye in Aaron’s eye to make any tears or scratches show up better. The doctor listened closely as I told him every detail. He then left the room, and just a minute later, came back with our regular pediatrician. He asked me to tell what had happened, what the eye looked like when I pulled his lid back, everything. I told the whole story again. Both doctors examined both of Aaron’s eyes. They finally stood back and my regular pediatrician said, “Well, all we can find at the very most is maybe a small scratch. There is no damage to his eye.”
