I’m celebrating my own miracle after my fall, and the miracle of America | Opinion

For the past two Sundays, I didn’t have a column in The Herald. I got loving emails and texts from many of you concerned about my absence, while some others emailed The Herald directly. I want you to know how much I appreciate your concern.

Well, I am back, by the grace of God. I don’t take those words lightly. It is truly God’s grace and mercy that I’ve been able to sit at my computer and write this column.

Over the years, I have used this column to tell the good news as well as the not-so-good news. I have used it to voice my concerns about the state of our nation and community, to share my losses and victories, to tell your stories and to forge new friendships. I have not been ashamed to share my faith with you. And, in turn, many of you have shared your faith with me.

Today, I want to share with you several miracles that have happened in my life since my last column.

In my church we sing a gospel song that goes like this: “When I think of the goodness of Jesus, and all He’s done for me, my soul cries HALLELUJAH! Thank God for saving me.”

The words of that song have been ringing in my mind more than ever over the past two weeks. Let me tell you why:

Recently I visited Nykki Burkes, one of my goddaughters. She lives in Atlanta. Nykki had a double-lung transplant a few weeks ago. Initially her doctor told her the operation would take 17 hours. Nykki’s surgery took only seven hours. To me, that is a miracle.

While she is recovering very well, I wanted to see for myself how she was doing. Hence, the reason for my trip to Atlanta.

On the day after my arrival, Nykki wanted me to go with her and Maya, her caregiver, to Emory, where she had her lung transplant. She wanted me to meet some of the people who helped her through the surgery and recovery. And I wanted to meet them.

Nykki lives in a two-story house, with all the bedrooms upstairs. That morning, I was coming downstairs and had cleared the first four steps, when I slipped and fell down the rest of the stairs – all 10 of them. I fell head over heels backwards and landed on my back at the front door. It seemed like I was falling in slow motion in a bad dream.

I have often said I believe in miracles. And I do. I believe that Nykki’s transplant operation was a miracle.

And I believe that I, an 88-year-old woman, who tumbled down a flight of stairs and lived to talk about it, is another miracle. As another song says, “I am a walking, talking, living testimony.”

I can sing that song in truth because as I tumbled, I struck my head on the edge of the stairs and landed on my back with no broken bones or concussions. And I never blacked out. To me, that is a miracle.

Miracle No. 3 was my being able to get up from the floor, with Maya’s help. I have heard of much younger persons who have had similar falls. Some ended up with a broken neck or back or were left paralyzed, or even dead. I often say I am a blessed woman. I have never felt more blessed than right now.

I spent the rest of that day at the hospital getting X-rays and CT scans. The doctor was amazed that I didn’t have a concussion or any broken bones, or that I could even walk.

Except for a few bumps and bruises, and being extremely sore, I want to report that today I am doing very well. And that, my friends, is nothing less than a miracle to me.

As we Americans celebrate the 250^th birthday of our nation, I believe this, too, is a miracle. In comparison to some other countries, we are a young nation. Yet, America has seen some harsh times — from the first day the pilgrims set foot on this soil, to the days of slavery.

We have come through wars and the abolishment of slavery and Jim Crow. Some of us fought for equal rights for everyone during the Civil Rights era and struggled through desegregation.

My generation has lived to see America put a man on the moon and explore the mysteries of other planets in the universe. And yet, while we have made tremendous strides as a nation, even celebrated the election of our first Black president, I am sad to say, we haven’t gotten there yet. Still, I have hope for a better and brighter America.

So, while I celebrate my own personal miracles, I am also celebrating the miracle of America.

We sing our national anthem with hope. But I am believing that one day we when we sing these words — ... ‘’O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave/O’er the land of the free and the home of the brave?’’ — they will ring true for every American, regardless of his/her ethnicity, color or religion.

When that happens, we will truly be the land of the free and the home of the brave. I believe we can and will get there.

As we continue the birthday celebration of our nation, I am also celebrating life and hope and miracles and you, my readers. And I am speaking blessings over our country.

God bless America.