Lets take a ride in the DeLorean and go back to June 24, 1975. We arrive in front of Sherman Hospital in Elgin, IL at 9:50pm as my parents, Robert and Paula Shreckhise, welcome me into the world. This beautiful moment is dampened by the news that I was born with an inguinal hernia. This is a kind of hernia that sometimes happens during delivery, most common with premature babies (which I was not). Over the following months, every time I had a fever, the area around the torn tissue would swell and fill with water. Sometimes the swelling would be so bad the skin would become almost transparent. The doctor told my parents that if the tear didn't heal by the time that I was eighteen months old, I would need to have surgery to repair it. Great Scott! The thought of having a procedure done on me at such a young age, and the expense it would incur, worried my parents to say the least.
At the time I was around eighteen months old, my dad was enrolled at Trinity Bible College in Ellendale, North Dakota. I had become sick and the area was once again swollen. The thought of surgery weighed on my dad’s mind. That week they were having a series of special services in the college chapel. My dad asked that those present pray for me, and they did. Within an hour after coming home from the service, my swelling had gone down. Within a week it was completely gone. It never came back. My parents’ prayers were answered. I know what you’re thinking - this is heavy… but weight has nothing to do with it.
Program the Time Departure Circuits to 1981 and we’ll head… back to the future! I am now six years old. My family is getting ready to move to Wisconsin, where my dad has taken a job as senior pastor of a small town church. He had to travel from our home in Illinois for several weekends to preach there before we moved. On one such weekend, I had a cold when my dad left. He returns to find me very sick. Since he left, I had rapidly gotten worse. I had a fever that was spiking, my left eye was swollen shut, I was delirious, irritable and I had a rash all over my body. My mom and grandma didn't realize how ill I was. They thought my demeanor was ordinary crankiness from having a cold. I was immediately taken to the doctor and within the hour, I was admitted into the hospital and put into isolation. It was serious.
Tests discovered I had a virus that had invaded my eye socket through my sinus cavity. The virus was heading toward my optic nerve and the doctors feared that from there, it could enter my brain. This was very dangerous, potentially fatal. The virus had also gotten into my blood steam, which caused my rash. They didn't have time to try to figure out what had caused it; they had to treat it swiftly before it spread. I was quickly put on three different antibiotics. Two of them were on a constant drip. One of them was only given to me every four hours because it burned the lining of my veins. I still remember that discomfort.
The first afternoon that I was in the hospital, a pediatric surgeon advised surgery. Squeamish warning: he wanted to take my eyeball out of its socket to clean out the infection by hand. Our family doctor advised my parents to wait and let the antibiotics have a chance to work. My parents were faced with a difficult decision.
They decided to wait and pray. They also called the church and they began to pray. My dad spent that first, very long night by my bedside praying. Morning came and with it, hopeful news. My fever was almost gone, the swelling in my eye had gone down and I was sleeping peacefully!
I spent a week in the hospital and was on antibiotics for a total of fifteen days. To this day, I can’t stand the flavor of artificial strawberry thanks to children’s penicillin. During my recovery, I remember watching a lot of Sesame Street and Electric Company (my favorite part was Spider-Man), I remember not liking the hospital food except for the Jell-O, and, I remember the innumerable people from the church that came by to pray for me. Along with my parents, they had faith that God would be there, and without a doubt, He was. Though I didn’t really understand all that was going on with me physically, I knew that others were praying for me and their faith in God and their dedication to the practice of prayer was a tremendous example to me.
These are just two of the experiences that have helped form my belief in God, but there are many others. If you think these are intriguing, stay tuned, my journey has had many unexpected stops along the way.
See you next time, same bat time, same bat channel…
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