| Click Now to Order
It started out a lazy Saturday morning. All of the boxes were unpacked,
but we still had much work to do after the move into our first home. After
my first cup of coffee, I decided to hang the new doors between the kitchen
and the den.
We took out the sliding glass
doors and were replacing them with some wooden ones. I didn't want to take
the chance of one of my small boys walking through the glass and getting
hurt like my Dad had several years earlier.
We had an industrial fire extinguisher
on the wall next to the doors. This was a central location in the house,
and we thought it was a good idea to have the extinguisher near the kitchen.
We removed the doors, replaced
the tracks and took the new doors out of the box. Now came the big moment:
I was positioning the first door in its place, the whole family gathered
around to see how it would look.
I had some trouble fitting
it into place. I applied pressure, and the door jumped out of the track
and hit the fire extinguisher, which slipped from its holder and fell four
feet onto my preschool son. Blood was everywhere.
I dropped the door, snatched
up my son, and sped to the hospital emergency room. I was in such a hurry
that I left my wife behind. I knew I had to take him to someone who could
help him. In that moment, nothing else mattered-- not traffic laws, not
money; the only thing that mattered was getting help for my son.
We were doing our best to provide
a safe environment for our son. We removed the glass doors and hung the
fire extinguisher as safety measures. Yet our best efforts resulted in
his injury. I'm grateful that God protected Stephen from our "protection."
Today, Stephen is sixteen years
old and is just fine. However, every now and then he talks about the day
Dad hit him with the fire extinguisher. He always laughs--I don't.
sermon that corresponds to this devotional.