Front Pockets

Wouldn't it be great to have all the pieces to the puzzle? To know why some things happen? Hindsight is always 20/20.  Some things in life that seem so small can be part of God's bigger plan.  Many years ago, Heath and I attended a concert in Foreman.  Tracy Lawrence, Mark Chestnut, and someone else I just can't remember.  And Foreman is like any other small town that claims a country star, everyone knows him or is kin to him and therefore VIP when at his concert.  Now it just so happens that we really were with some VIP's, so we got to sneak side stage - not back stage just side stage.  We ate somebodies pizza.  Like any other concert that is out in huge pasture, there are hundreds - I might even go as far as to say thousands of people crowded around.  People are bumping into one another, hugging one another, swaying and singing along.  In amidst of all this love and Woodstock-like peace, is a thief.  This man (or woman - I'm not prejudice) snuck behind Heath.  Now back in the day, Heath carried his wallet in his back pocket just like hundreds of other Sarepta boys do.  Mr.(or Ms)Thief had easy access to that back pocket amongst all the love.  What Heath probably thought was a simple "oops my bad sorry I didn't mean to run into the back of ya" was probably the pick.  His wallet was gone like that.  Now, this small act set into motion a chain of events that can't be explained until now.  From that day forward, Heath carried his wallet in his front left pocket. Even on that horrible night in August.  

Now fast forward 8 years later, and Heath is burned over 85% of his body.  Not much skin was spared.  We need skin! Skin that will go on the underside of his arms, a place where cultured skin won't take very well.  But wait, there is a place - a place that was so well protected -protected by a leather wallet directly under his left pocket  That is where skin was harvested yesterday. It was then grafted to the underside of his arm. 

If Heath hadn't had his pocket picked so many years ago, he would probably still be wearing his wallet in his back pocket (which is uncomfortable to sit on) and therefore taken out and left in his truck.  He wouldn't have had that place to donate skin from.  He wouldn't be one step closer to be coming home.  So, I'd like to thank that crook for picking my little brothers pocket that night in Foreman, you were part of a plan that none of us knew about. Until now. 

Til Tommorow!