? 
The birth of a daughter is one of the two greatest experiences on this planet.?  The other is the birth of a son.?  That??™s the order in which my children came.?  Rebecca sailed through childhood with a minimum of fuss, the usual scrapes, few illnesses and wonderful academics.?  Michael didn??™t sail.?  He skipped, ran, hopped, rolled, teetered and bounced, from early years to adulthood and beyond.?  The only things he liked about school were recess, lunch (sometimes) and sports.

As a toddler, Michael??™s feet turned inward, one of the most severe cases of ???pigeon toes??? that the pediatrician had ever seen.?  Every night for two years, Michael had to wear a metal brace, which had a high-topped shoe attached at each end.?  Periodically, the shoes were turned outward by a few degrees, causing his little feet to grow straight.?  We grew accustomed to hearing the clank and clatter of the brace against the sides of the crib in the middle of the night.

? Michael also had to wear his shoes on the wrong feet until he was nearly four years old.? ? ? ? ?  Many strangers stopped to tell me that my little boy was wearing his shoes on the wrong feet!?  Rubber wedges were attached to the soles of his shoes to hold his feet in the correct position.

When Michael was five, he woke up one morning with a severe nosebleed.?  I took him to the doctor, who packed his nose with gauze, and sent us home.?  What we didn??™t realize was that his nose continued to bleed, and the blood ran down his throat.?  By mid-afternoon, Michael didn??™t respond when we talked to him.?  He was going into shock from blood loss. We rushed him to the hospital, where he was admitted.?  He has the most rare blood type, and no blood of that kind was available for transfusion in our little rural hospital back then.

Our pastor and an evangelist, who was holding a revival at our church, came to the hospital after ten o??™clock that night, where my husband and I stood at the bedside of our little boy.?  The two men prayed for him and with us, laying hands upon Michael??™s cold forehead.? 

? Nurses took his vitals every fifteen minutes throughout the night.?  The next morning we learned that the bleeding had stopped, for no apparent reason, near ten-thirty that evening.?  The doctor on call told us, ???A Higher Power was with us on this one.???? ?  We already knew that.

At the age of six, Michael was one of the most adventurous boys I had ever seen.?  He loved to climb trees, the higher the better.?  Afraid of scaring him and causing him to fall, I have calmly talked him down, while my heart was in my throat and my knees felt like jelly.?  No scolding, spanking, or any other punishment kept him from climbing. (No, spanking wasn??™t illegal in those days.)

During a family gathering, Michael and a friend both climbed into the hard maple tree in our back yard.?  Trying to get just a little bit higher, Michael misjudged the strength of a limb, and it broke. He plummeted twenty feet through the branches, fell onto the hood of a car and bounced, hitting the ground.?  Mindless in our terror, my husband and I discovered that Michael had suffered one tiny scratch that didn??™t even require a band-aid.?  Had I not been so grateful that he was alive and had no broken bones, I would have killed him!

When Michael was fourteen, his dad bought him a Honda dirt bike, a purchase that caused me to consider divorce or murder.?  I had always stated that a motorcycle would take up residence on my property over my dead body.?  It was inconceivable that one of those deathtraps was going to carry my son all over the countryside??”and with his father??™s approval! ? I think I gave both my husband and son the silent treatment for at least a week.? 

I had to come to terms with the potentially lethal machine; so in my mind, I buried my son.?  I was terrified that he would kill himself on that bike, but I had to give my fear to God and trust that the boy would grow up to give me grandchildren.? ?  I knew his reckless sense of adventure, and he never once left our farm without my prayers enveloping him.

Fortunately, he survived the motorcycle.?  However, in recent years Michael has told me about his many wrecks and near misses on the contraption.?  I have asked him to leave me some of my illusions, shuddering at his lack of recognizing his own mortality.? ?  I used to shake my head in despair and say, ???He??™ll be tough, if he lives!???? ?  We used that remark about several young men in our family, and there were some who did not survive their reckless teenage years.

Time passed.?  One summer Michael fought a hive of wasps and lost.?  He received several stings, and one of his eyes swelled so badly that his eyelashes weren??™t visible.? ?  He played basketball in grade school and on his high school varsity team, suffering sprained ankles, bloody noses, near concussions and black eyes.?  He spent nearly as much time with his foot in a bucket of ice as he did on the basketball court.?  I have forgotten how many times I received calls from the school nurse, announcing yet another injury to my son.?  I became almost blas?© about them.? ? 

Somehow, the boy survived.?  He grew up, married a beautiful, dark-eyed young woman, and fathered two children, a son and a daughter.?  Michael became a partner in his dad??™s business, a dangerous occupation that he grew to love: select cutting of timber.?  Safety measures were stressed above all else; and probably most of the time, Michael followed them.?  Shortcuts, no pun intended, are deadly in the timber.?  Two things especially are not done:?  YOU NEVER CUT DOWN TREES ALONE and YOU CUT SMART AND DON??™T TRY TO OUTRUN A FALLING TREE.

One day Michael did both.?  The tree splintered, snapped and the trunk flew upwards, striking Michael??™s head.? ?  He remembers being airborne.?  When he regained consciousness, he was draped across the trunk, one hand still on the running chainsaw, wedged beneath the tree.? ?  He freed his hand, but it took three attempts before he could stand up without passing out again.?  His hardhat saved his life, but I??™ve always wondered if his hard head wasn??™t also a major factor??¦that and his guardian angel.?  That evening, after I learned how closely he came to leaving his children fatherless, I drove to his house.?  I had to see him, to touch him, to reassure myself that he was all right.

???Now, Mom, don??™t go all crazy on me,??? Michael chuckled.?  I looked at him, held out my arms, and locked him in an embrace that should have hurt him.?  He put his big, muscle-y arms around me and held me just as tightly as I was holding him.?  My head doesn??™t even reach his chin.?  I didn??™t lecture him.?  He??™d heard it all before, numerous times.?  I just needed to touch my son.

? A couple years later, Michael ruptured a disc in his lower spine.?  The pain was horrendous.?  He didn??™t want to have the surgery, but the pain became so bad that he had to agree to the procedure.? ?  He was taking dangerous doses of pain killer, with no easement of the agony.?  One day he told me that if he could get no relief, ?????¦just let me die, Mom.????  He has no memory of saying that to me.?  It broke my heart.

Last May, I woke from a dream, which I immediately related to my husband.?  In the dream, Michael had called and said to me, ???I??™m in trouble, Mom.? ?  There??™s something wrong with my heart.????  My husband laughed at me.

???Oh, you and your dreams!?  You??™re always dreaming something silly.?  Mike is forty years old.? ?  There??™s nothing wrong with his heart.????  I agreed with him, but the dream had been frightening.?  I couldn??™t shake it.? ?  Less than a week later, I answered the phone in the middle of the afternoon.?  It was my son.?  He was calling from his car.

???Mom, I don??™t want to scare you, but I??™m in trouble.? ?  There??™s something wrong with my heart.?  Joyce made me go to the doctor, and he??™s sending me to the ER.?  He told me I might not live to get there.????  Mike??™s heart had developed an irregular beat so severe that the doctors were afraid that he would go into cardiac arrest.?  A heart cath showed no damage, and medicines are controlling the irregularity, for which we are all very grateful.?  My husband has refused to discuss my dream.

Don??™t ever ask, ???What next, Lord?????  For years I have fussed at my children and four grandchildren about their laxness in using sunscreen.?  Most of them get periodic sunburns, sometimes declining to see me until the redness has faded.? ?  They know that I??™m going to react with frustration and impatience.? ?  I often told Michael that he wouldn??™t look very pretty without a nose.?  That remark came back to haunt me.?  Last October, Mike??™s sweet wife finally convinced him to see a dermatologist about a small place beside his nose that bled every time he washed his face.?  I was convinced that the biopsy would reveal skin cancer, but I wasn??™t prepared for the report.

???Mom, I got gypped again,??? Mike told me on the phone.?  I chuckled a bit.

???You have skin cancer, don??™t you??  Don??™t worry, Honey.? ?  Doctors can get that right off.???? ?  There was a long pause before Mike answered.

???Mom, it??™s melanoma,??? he said.?  I felt as if someone had driven a fist into my stomach.?  I couldn??™t breathe.?  ? Oh Dear Lord! I cried silently.?  Melanoma kills people!?  Our families have already lost so much this year!?  My daughter-in-law??™s young brother and grandmother and Mike??™s grandmother all died within the year!?  Mike is already dealing with a heart problem!?  Enough, Lord!

? Mike explained to me about the additional biopsies and the ring biopsies and the further testing and the possibility of metastasizing melanoma, but I barely comprehended what he was saying to me.?  Somehow I found encouraging words and reassurances for him; but when I hung up the phone, I fell to my knees in tears and desperate prayer.

The next few weeks were filled with alternating states of fear and hope and faith.?  Additional biopsies showed that the cancer filled a larger area than first thought, but the doctors were hopeful and encouraging.?  They felt confident that all of the cancer could be removed and that there was very little possibility that it had spread anywhere else in his body.?  Their main concern was the reconstructive process, since such a large area would have to be removed near his nose, even a small part of his nostril.

The surgery was done, successfully; and for many days Mike had to wear a bandage in the middle of his face.?  After it was removed, there was a red, swollen area that wasn??™t very pretty; but it improved daily.?  I didn??™t care what it looked like.?  I was just happy that the cancer had not invaded a vital organ.

? The other day, for the millionth time, I looked at my handsome son.?  With my eyes, I traced the fine line that runs from just below his eye to the curve of his nostril.?  The surgeons did a remarkable job repairing his face.? ?  I told Mike that his scar is a war wound, a badge of honor, regardless of how it looked, and that it added character to a too-handsome face.? ?  He thought about that for a minute before he replied, ???Huh!?  You??™re right.?  It is a war wound!???

My husband and I dedicated our children to the Lord when they were babies.?  They were brought up in church, and both of them gave their hearts to Him when they were young.?  Living good lives carries no guarantee that circumstances will always be favorable.?  Bad things happen to good people all the time.

? I??™ve learned that nothing hurts us more than watching our children hurt, regardless of how old they are. I??™ve learned that faith isn??™t faith until it??™s tested, and I??™ve learned that we don??™t know whether we really have it until we need it.?  We can walk away victorious in battle, but we often carry scars to prove the victory.? ? ? 

? The remnant of cancer on Michael??™s face is a line about the width of two strands of thread, a fine scar??¦a beautiful scar.? ?  It is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen, and I thank God for it, daily.?  It??™s a constant reminder of how fragile we are, a reminder that we are simply made of flesh and bone, held together with skin.?  Michael??™s scar is a token of mercy, grace, and healing, things I don??™t want to take for granted, ever again.

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Barbara Elliott Carpenter contributes to many online publications.?  An award-winning author and poet, she continues to work on the sequel to her novel, Starlight, Starbright??¦?  ? It just keeps growing??¦and growing??¦and growing??¦ She can be reached via email: bjlogger2@aol.com, a new email address.? ?  There is also a new website: www.barbaraelliottcarpenter.com?  and the old one: www.bec.newsmoose.com? ? ?  Inquiries and comments are welcome. The novel is available through all major online booksellers, through any major bookstore, or the publisher??™s toll free number: 1-888-280-7715.?  Autographed copies can be obtained from the author, at a discount.?