That morning, a slight suspicion of Fall stirred the leaves of the Japanese landscape
as the young American walked to his Honda. It was a beautiful day, the kind that made
you say, “This is the day the Lord has made.”
The children’s English class had gone well and now his family was waiting for him. Today
they were to go shopping for his young son’s birthday present. The motor of his compact
car hummed. A sense of well being all but overwhelmed him. It was great to be alive!
The train crossing was just a few minutes from his house. The red warning lights suddenly
flashed on. “These lights were always too early!’ he thought to himself. Tim had crossed
here many times—to wait seemed so useless. Quickly, he gunned the motor. Once past the
bushes, he checked to be sure the tracks were clear. Horror overwhelmed him. Not more than
50 feet away, a giant train towered over him. Frantically, he shifted into reverse. Time
stood still for Tim, knowing that the next split second he would be in eternity. Was that his
own voice echoing hollowly against his ears? “Oh, God… Oh, God!”.
 The grinding noise was stifling. He was wet. He couldn’t see and in anguish, realized he was saturated with his own blood. As though he stood over his own body, he heard his screams. “Chi o tomete chodai... Chi o tomete chodai!”. Stop my bleeding!
The grinding noise was stifling. He was wet. He couldn’t see and It was dark. The sound
of a thousand motors roared and in an instant, fell silent.
Although her husband was almost an hour late, Teruko was not really worried. He had probably
stopped by his parents to say hello. Still, a sense of relief filled her as she heard footsteps outside. At last, they could get started. Their two children, the four year old girl and the two year old boy, hurried to the door. Their Uncle Nathan’s face was white and drawn. The pain was clearly visible.
“Teruko”… he hesitated… “It’s Tim… an accident.”
In the hospital emergency room, a policeman tried to comfort the young wife and prepare her for what was coming. “The worst I’ve ever seen… I’m so sorry…”
Teruko surveyed the tragic body stretched out before her. It bore no resemblance whatsoever to her husband. She looked unbelievingly at the swollen head. It was cracked in several places and gray matter oozed out. The face was swollen, bruised and battered beyond recognition. His feet were crushed and torn open.
She trembled. From the depths of her agony, she begged God to spare him...for her...for the children.Yet how could anyone survive this?
How desperately she needed strength. In total submission, she bowed to God’s will. “Lord, if You want him, Your will be done.” Her frail body shook. A tremendous sensation of peace and tranquility filled her as she started for the waiting room.
Seven long hours passed before the head surgeon wearily approached the anxious family. Slowly, sadly, he shook his head and sighed, “We’ve done what we could. Now what we need is a miracle. Go home and rest. There is nothing more you can do here.”
Tim’s father took over the vigil at the hospital while the others headed home to face a sleepless, restless night of waiting, praying and wondering.
As dawn pierced the sky, the sound of a car in the driveway brought everyone scurrying; hearts pounding, eyes questioning. “He’s alive. If he can survive another 72 hours, he might live.”
Outside the intensive care unit, Nathan and Teruko hesitated. Inside, six young men lay close to death.
Five were victims of Vietnam fighting; one, a victim of a train-car accident. All were covered with
only a small sheet towel. Nathan entered the sterile room. After looking at all six men, he asked the
nurse, “Tim Brooks, my brother is supposed to be here…”.
The nurse was pointing at the bed he stood in
front of. He couldn’t even recognize his own brother! From the small window, Teruko watched as Nathan’s
face twisted in grief and despair. Slowly, Nathan left the room so pregnant with the sense of death.
Silently, he took Teruko back home. His anguish was physically visible. He could neither eat nor sleep.
Unceasingly, he prayed to Jesus Christ to spare his brother. Tim’s father, a Christian missionary, began
a prayer vigil. At his request, churches in Japan and America began prayer for a dying son.
The following day was critical. Teruko returned to the hospital and entered the small intensive care
unit. Two beds lay tragically empty. Quietly, she stood beside the bed that cradled the body of her
beloved husband. His head was bandaged and swollen; his eyes blackened. One eye was so swollen that
doctors feared his eye was gone. Although shaved and stitched, dirt was embedded deeply into his body.
Her eyes filled with tears. She recalled his strength and vigor, his love for Karate and how he had
persisted in his studies and achieved the coveted Black Belt. Slowly, she bent over him.
There was no
hint of awareness on his part. Her lips only inches from his ear, she whispered, “Tim, can you hear me?”.
Almost imperceptibly, his head moved. Could it be? Was he actually able to hear and respond?
“Are you in pain?”. With tremendous effort, almost inaudibly, his lips still rigid, he struggled to respond.
“Are my legs there?”
“Yes, Tim. They are there.”
“Are my arms there?”
“Yes, everything is there.?”
“Let me see your mirror”.
Forewarned by the nurses that he could slip into shock were he to see himself, Teruko denied having a mirror. As unexpectedly as he had spoken, he drifted back into sleep. He had talked to her! He was coherent. He was alive! This was surely a miracle.
Four days after the accident, Tim was transferred to Keshine Hospital in Yokohama. This hospital specialized in patients receiving brain-damage. Not until this time was it discovered that in addition to his other injuries, his jaw had been broken in three places and his hand was broken. At this time, there was very little feeling in his right arm and because of the brain damage, the doctors feared that this strong young body may never walk again, let alone train with his Dojo mates in the strenuous art of karate. Although he earned his living teaching English, karate was his life and to teach it would someday be his calling. If he could no longer train in his beloved karate, but such thoughts must be banished. He was alive! One miracle at a time.
It had been one week since the accident had occurred.
Different foods were ground into a fine liquid and fed to him through a straw. The doctors predicted a long, slow recovery and prepared Teruko for the dismal future that lay ahead of her. Her husband would undoubtedly be paralyzed. As she studied the mangled body, she recalled the many karate tournaments they had attended. The beauty of the Kata (forms) and the quickness of
the Kumite (sparring) stirred her memory. Friends at the Dojo grieved for the loss of such an excellent student of the art. Suddenly, she was wrestled from her thoughts by the almost convulsive struggling of the mummy-like figure before her. Had he lapsed into delirium? He was, yes, he was trying to rise from the bed! Overcoming her panic,, She rang for the orderlies, attempting at the same time to soothe and restrain her husband without
injuring his maimed body.
“The bathroom,… I must...must walk.” He shook off the medical paraphernalia and struggled to stand. Aghast, the orderlies rushed to his side. Instinctively reacting years of training, they cradled the struggling mass of bandages into a standing position and half-carried, half-guided him to his triumphant first steps.
Conversations at the Dojo where Tim had trained often centered on the young American and his tragic accident. Although he had made astounding progress that had baffled even the surgeons, he would surely never be the same. They predicted his right arm would only have about 50 percent of use; his skull was fractured so badly that he could certainly never return to strenuous exercise; his body so debilitated by the drama of the accident that
full use would certainly never return, let alone the former lightning speed and agility they had so often witnessed. The doctors predicted a year in the hospital and in all probability, the remainder of his life as a cripple.
Once month had passed since the accident had sliced the small compact car into pieces. Tim stood before the Karate Dojo. His face was still swollen and discolored, his right arm in a cast so heavy that even with support, it pulled his head and neck muscles. Astonished and overjoyed, his fellow karate-ka crowded about him.
Doggedly, he brushed off their concern and begged to be permitted to resume his training.
Pain etched lines into his face. Sweat covered him from the effort and strain of forcing atrophied muscles to move again. By God’s grace, no wheelchair could confine this spirit. Day after day, he returned to the Dojo to stretch, to pull, to shudder in pain. And still another miracle. The man who just a few weeks ago lay at death’s door, the man whom medical experts had predicted would be extremely lucky if he ever walked again, not only lived...but resumed life as it had been before it was almost ended. His ability to endure, his determination to survive, the love and prayers of his family and friends and above all, the healing power of Jesus Christ, these had achieved what had been considered impossible. Yes. Jesus Again defied death.
He had confounded the medical experts. He had reconditioned a body believed to be beyond reconditioning.It was to be months, even years before the total effects of the accident were to be realized. Internal injuries, embedded glass slowly surfacing, the slow deliberate healing of so many fractures—all were to be endured and overcome.
Very few are aware of the tragedy that once came so close to extinguishing this light that shines for so many others, but those who do know, only smile, for they are aware that God still performs miracles and that because of Him, sometimes even the impossible is in fact possible |
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