A Toddler Almost Lost by Thornton Cline (excerpt from “Not My Time to Go”

When I look back on how I almost faced death at two years old. It is not only frightening but humbling. I was too young to understand anything about dying.
It was a peaceful Saturday morning in early March the day I almost died the first time. On that morning, my mother noticed that I wasn’t awake yet. She looked more closely. I was lying my crib unnaturally still. My mother, Phyllis, carefully lifted me, and found my body lifeless, burning with heat. My eyes rolled back into my head. Phyllis felt a stab of panic as a sudden vision of me lying in a tiny coffin inside the sanctuary of our church ran through her mind.
Something’s wrong with my baby. Dear Jesus, help him.
My mother quickly tried to revive me, covering my body with a cold washcloth. I did not respond. My temperature had risen to 104.9.
Paramedics arrived and loaded me into the ambulance after given me oxygen and checking my vital signs.
I vaguely remember lying on that hospital table, wired with dangling tubes from my arms and chest. The hospital staff worked frantically to revive me as my heart had stopped. They struggled to bring me back.
An overwhelming, heavy silence suddenly fell in the room. And then, a miracle happened. My tiny lungs gasped for breath and filled with air. I could feel the thump of my heart in my chest. I started crying. My mom and dad were speechless in disbelief. Their prayers had been answered.
I had always been a fighter and not a quitter. Perhaps I had a strong will to live.
There were undeniable divine forces in that room that day. This would be the first of many close-call brushes with death. God had purpose for me here on Earth. It was definitely not my time to go.

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