Where the expressions of science met the guardians of elegant sufficiency
I sat beside my Grandfather the day he died of a heart attack. He was seated on our living room couch, sharpening a pencil with a whittling knife. He did not make a sound when he passed; he just stopped moving. Our yellow parakeet had somehow escaped its cage and was wildly flying around the living room, chirping fearfully, quite alarmed. I felt a strong presence of spirit in the air and sensed it was Grandpa. I was five years old and didn’t understand death yet.
Grandpa had always treated me with loving kindness, encouraged me by spending time with me, and he taught me how to whittle wood. Sadly, shortly after he passed, I broke the jackknife he gifted me. I ‘made do’ with a paring knife from the kitchen drawer. I industriously keep my eye open for interesting pieces of wood to whittle, and no matter where I went, I faithfully carried that paring knife in the back pocket of my “britches” as my Grandpa used to say.
One day, my brother and I went over to a friend’s house to play, but nobody was home. We amused ourselves on their backyard tire swing, played on monkey bars, slides, etc.
An idea from school captured my curiosity and had been percolating in my little brain. Whenever I learned something new or fascinating, I would always pass that lesson on to my little brother. Having learned about electricity from a teacher, I decided to show him what I learned. The teacher had earnestly cautioned us that water and metal are conductors of electricity, and assured us that wood in not a conductor of electricity. To provide evidence to my little brother that an electric current cannot travel through wood, we walked over to a 220-Volt socket to conduct my first Show & Tell speech.
Since my paring knife had a wooden handle covering the metal, I believed I could safely insert it into the socket. I pulled open the gray metal safety guard from the socket and drew the paring knife from my back pocket. I told my brother to watch me, as I began explaining the laws of electricity.
I boldly went where no bright boy had gone before, and confidently plugged my knife into the socket. My lecture ended as I experienced 220-volts of electricity coursing through my body.
Suddenly, I became terrifyingly aware my lesson went awry. My young mind hadn’t considered that metal rivets held the wooden handle of the knife together, and I was touching them. The powerful current flowed through me, holding my entire body frozen in place.
My brother must have sensed something was wrong, (maybe because for once because I was not talking). He said, “Are you alright? Are you alright?” Unable to move my lips due to electricity coursing through my body, I strained out the words, “I ant oove! I ant oove!” (‘I can’t move, I can’t move’). With trembling voice, he asked, “Do you want me to pull you away?”
I quickly responded, “Oh! Oh! Own ush e! Own ush e!" (that is, ‘No! No! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me’!) I remembered the teacher warning us about the dangers of touching an electrocuted person is that they are victim to a bigger jolt than the electrocuted person.
At this desperate point, I thought a silent, frantic prayer for help, thinking, “God, help me.” Just then, I felt two large, strong hands pressing down firmly on my shoulders. Those hands yanked me backward away from the plug, freeing me from my electrical prison!
Stunned, I turned around to see who helped me. Only my wide-eyed brother was there. While I knew my brother could not have been the one that saved me, I was befuddled by what happened. I gave my brother a stern parental look and firmly demanded, “Did you touch me?” With quivering fear in his voice, he said, “No.”
Perhaps the two strong hands on my shoulders belonged to my guardian angel. Maybe it was my grandfather.
In later years, I once sensed that my grandfather was helping me. I was on the way to the hospital for a biopsy and was afraid I would die. I read that a small number of people die from the biopsy needle piercing a vein, and the patient dies. On the way to the hospital, I was praying hard for comfort and protection. I then heard a gentle male voice say in my ear, “You’ll be OK.”
The voice possessed a peaceful love that poured through my soul. And the voice seemed familiar, somehow. I wondered at the time if it was my grandpa. Maybe he is an angel?
Today, I view this early experience as evidence that God has a purpose for my life. At the very least, it was an answer to prayer. Through the years, I have had supernatural experiences that have saved my life. While I cannot say for a certainty what precise design appears scripted for my life, it seems I had been protected me from harm. To me, it is today less important that God shields me from harm in this world. As one of God's faithful servants said in the Bible, “Yea, though he slays me, yet will I love Him.” Selah!
Psalm 91:11 “For he shall give his angels charge over thee, to keep thee in all thy ways.” KJV
Chapter 1
Plug for a Paring Knife