When a teen's eyes are injured in a
chemical explosion, his prayers receive an answer.
By Mel Ely, San Diego, California
Once we were in college, the kids
from my church’s high school youth group only saw each other in the summertime.
We’d been looking forward to a get-together by the lake that day in 1952. So we
were surprised when one of us, Harley, didn’t show. Finally our pastor arrived
to explain what had happened.
“Harley’s had an accident,” he said.
“I don’t know all of the details—I think he was working with some chemicals and
there was an explosion. The doctors have bandaged his eyes. They’re not sure
he’ll ever be able to see again.”
All of us prayed nonstop over the
next few days. I hated to think of Harley losing his sight. He was so smart and
talented, with so much to give and his whole life in front of him.
God, please heal him, I asked.
Finally the bandages came off.
Harley was okay! His vision was restored.
Life soon sent us all in different
directions. I moved to California. Harley stayed in Oklahoma. Occasionally my
mom gave me updates on what he was doing. I knew he went to medical school and
became an ophthalmologist. Then I lost track of him for years.
One day I decided to see if I could
find out what had happened to Harley. I looked him up on the internet and
learned that J. Harley Galusha had become a true innovator in the field of
vision correction, pioneering new techniques and procedures. He traveled all
over the world—to Africa, India, South America—offering his services for free
and training eye doctors.
Forty years after that long-ago
summer day at the lake, I reconnected with my old friend.
“I’ll never forget how hard we all
prayed for you to be healed,” I said.
“I prayed too,” said Harley. “But
not just for healing. I asked God what I should do with my life, whatever
happened. By the time I left the hospital I knew I was going to dedicate myself
to restoring the sight of others.” God had answered both our prayers and
through them, no doubt, the prayers of many others.
