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Grandpa’s Left Foot

:: My mother contributes another story to my family history project:

    When I was about 8 or 9 years of age, my wonderful father got blood poisoning in his left foot. His foot swelled to a size that resembled a small football. Our dear Dr. Robinson knew our family of 6 children had very limited income. Because of his devotion to his calling to care for and heal the sick, he lovingly came to our home several times that week to check on my father’s condition.

    His instructions to my mother were to bathe my father’s foot in hot water with epsom salt, three to four times daily. My father’s bedtime ritual always included kneeling to say his prayers. My mother had helped him ready for the night, elevating his foot on some pillows. My bedroom, which I shared with my younger sister Carol, was directly opposite that of my parents. While I lay in bed trying to go to sleep (as I had been instructed, “Go to sleep now, you have school in the morning”), I noticed my father get out his bed and kneel to say his prayers.

    I literally jumped from my bed and ran to his side, pleading with him to get back into bed, as God knew he had a sore foot and would not mind if he did not kneel until his foot was better. With much love in his eyes, my dad reached up, and touching my shoulder, invited me to kneel beside him and pray. By this time I was in tears, certain that his foot must be hurting him more than ever. I knelt, and together we prayed and I asked God to make my daddy’s foot better.

    Some sixty plus years later, I still remember vividly that night, and realize how much this influenced the prayer life I have had since my early childhood.

Dr Robinson and me, 1954

My mom’s parents were named Marie-Ange and Jean-Charles Carriere, but everyone called them Mary and Charlie. They were wonderful grandparents. As for Dr Robinson, he was around for a long time. Not only did he deliver my mother, he also delivered me!

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