God's Grace for Graham: An Autobiography by Graham Jones as Told to Mary Alice Baker Ferguson

By Mary Ferguson

A mothers heart races so quickly, she feels as if it could jump right out of her chest. A few scant moments earlier, she had been completely at peace with God. It only took a sudden phone call that particular Sunday evening to shatter her peacetime. Her son, Graham, had been in a horrific automobile accident. EMS suspected multiple brain injuries. This high school senior, known for his friendliness, popularity and activities in his church, faced a dim future.

Her sons coma lasted for weeks, with Mom by his side as much as allowed. The doctors had warned that her sons life was not looking hopeful. One day, Grahams mother noticed his toes were moving. The physicians said it was an involuntary move and it meant nothing, but dont ever tell a parent her child doesnt know what he is doing. After some time, it was obvious, he did understand.

God can take us from our lowest point to our highest, and He certainly has done that for Graham and his family and friends. He was told to go home and watch television and not worry about continuing his education. These words were just what he needed to be determined to finish school.

This story includes his trials and triumphs through education and family tragedies. His life is an inspiration to those who feel God has forgotten them or life has beaten them down. God is good all the time./p>

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 10, 2014
• ISBN: 9781490850429

Mary Ferguson

Presently living in Hanahan, South Carolina, Mary Alice is from Oklahoma, where she graduated from Northeastern State University. She taught drama, speech, and English for over thirty years. She and husband Chuck have been married forty-eight years, raising three daughters: Jeanette, Leslie, and Gwen.

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Copyright © 2014 Mary Ferguson.

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ISBN: 978-1-4908-5041-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-5043-6 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4908-5042-9 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014917895

WestBow Press rev. date: 12/9/2014

CONTENTS

Chapter 1   My Mother Recalls

Chapter 2   A Son Recalls his Tragedy

Chapter 3   My Childhood

Chapter 4   Back to High School, Finally & Junior College

Chapter 5   Francis Marion

Chapter 6   Paula

Chapter 7   Seminary

Chapter 8   My Dad

Chapter 9   My Mom

Chapter 10   Friends before and after the accident

Chapter 11   Update

CHAPTER ONE

My Mother Recalls

Proverbs 14: 30a A heart at peace gives life to the body.

That Sunday morning in 1982 began with my being completely at peace with God and my family. I had no inkling that my peaceful world was about to be blown apart. But by evening, peace lay in fragments, destroyed as if by dynamite.

My heart was racing so quickly I thought it would jump right out of my chest. We had barely gotten home from Sunday evening church when the phone rang. It was my friend Libby. As she spoke, disbelief and fear gripped me with a merciless hand. Her daughter, Kim, my son Graham and three other friends had been in a car wreck. My heart raced and the chill hand of dread grabbed me. My husband, George, and I got back into our car and tried to follow the confusing directions Libby had given us to locate the wreckage. Although neither of us said it out loud, our frustration continued when we realized we missed the turnoff and had to retrace our quest. Then abruptly, we saw what could only be described as an untimely catastrophe; loud sirens and flashing lights were everywhere. To our dismay, we counted three police cars, one fire truck, and an ambulance. I recognized the turned over car which had stopped in the deep ravine.

After George finally located a place to park our car, I cautiously trudged to one of the EMS men and questioned how my son was. He just glared at me as if he did not know how to answer. I saw the other teenagers; I didn’t see Graham. Time stood still as this powerful man glared through me asking which one was my son. Before I had a chance to answer, I saw this still teenage boy already placed in the ambulance. My heart stopped beating; I could not breathe. How could this be the baby that I cradled as I sang lullabies?

At that point, I knew my son was severely hurt. I asked the man if my son was alive and this time I patiently waited for his answer. He did not answer quickly; it seemed an eternity before his reply began. His facial expression was one of compassion as he looked at me and said in a very soft voice. For right now. I am sorry but we do not think he will even make it to the hospital. I recall thinking I did not know this much fear was possible. My thoughts went back to David when he knew his son would most likely die. What should I do now? When I have a long time to decide on a matter, I can think of several answers; but this, how do I deal with this?

Watching the flesh of my flesh being prepared to leave, I knew I needed more help than was being provided. I called our new pastor, Reverend Robin Heath, who met us at the hospital. I had told them to take Graham to Roper Hospital; but, the man in charge said they needed to take him to MUSC where they had a Trauma Unit. I did not argue. I did not even know if I should. We followed the ambulance to the hospital, not knowing if he would be alive when we arrived. George and I did not know what to say to each other so we quietly said our own prayer. When we were told he was barely hanging on, I called my son Craig and my daughter Paula; both came immediately. Thankfully.

Paula was a technician and knew the ins and outs of the procedures. She guided us to the one site where they would be bringing him. We would never have known how to locate him had she not been there. This nightmare was quickly getting darker. Our earlier joy had vanished and my head felt crushed with a huge vise.

I was not prepared for how he looked; it was as if this young man was another woman’s child, not mine. Sorrow seemed to bring more sorrow. He was bleeding from his eyes, his nose and his mouth. He had some kind of massive breathing apparatus, an IV, bandages and, dear God, there was so much blood. My first thought was I am going to lose my baby, my son. My stomach was churning until I knew I would throw up.

After he had been in the ER for some time, a doctor came out so slowly I thought he surely must be crawling. I could tell by his ashen face the news was not going to be what we had hoped. He told us, as tenderly as he could, our son was most likely not going to live through the night. If, by some miracle, he should make it, he would be put in ICU. He told us, with concern on his face, that it might be better for him if he did not survive. How could anyone possibly think a mother could deal with this sobering news? While we waited, the Remount Church staff and most of the church’s youth came. They prayed for some time without ceasing. Of course, there came a time when they had to quit. Several hours later, they finally left as they had school and work commitments the next morning. I had work the next morning too; but, I did not leave the hospital for the next agonizing nine days. I was his mother and that’s what we mothers do. Each time a new doctor would talk to me, I received the same answer. We don’t know. We just don’t know. If they did not know, who in blazes did? I knew the answer; I just did not want to have to think about it. However, we Christians are familiar with the answer. I took comfort in knowing that God knew. I did not know what was going to happen; yet, I trusted that our heavenly father was still in control. I had cradled this child against my breast; I knew God still unconditionally loved him – and me.

I was only permitted to see Graham for a few meager minutes every four agonizing hours, every time hoping to see some kind of improvement. Each time the few minutes seemed to get shorter and the four hours seemed to drag relentlessly. Things only went downhill. It seemed his injuries were all a result of severe brain damage. We struggled to take in this information and thought at least the worst was over. We were wrong.

My sensational support group did not let me down. I had relatives from out of town and church friends who saw to it that I was never left alone. Two of my sisters-in-law answered phones so I did not have to deal with retelling the story. Each time I visited my son, I hoped and searched for some kind of improvement, something to hold on to or hope for. But as much as I tried, I saw nothing encouraging. The significance of how David fasted and waited for news of his son hit home.

Just when I thought it could not get worse, it did. After a few days, his brain started bleeding causing it to swell. Something called a ventriculostomy was used to help the swelling go down. It worked; still the doctor said this was not necessarily a good sign as the swelling had likely caused more brain damage. I wondered if this nightmare would ever end. There was refuge in knowledge of the scriptures. I knew my faith would have to sustain me; I held on to it as tightly as I could.

Nine long days later, we were told it looked as if my son was going to live which we believed to be good news. I could tell by the doctor’s expression that he had more to tell us and it was not going to be what we wanted to hear. My heart was pounding like a sledge hammer as I waited for him to speak. He told us that Graham would never have a normal life and would most likely be a vegetable. All we could do was wait and see. My heart felt as if it dropped to the deepest darkest depth possible. I did not know what the future held for Graham; but, it was time for some time down on my knees.

We decided to try to get some kind of response from our son. Each day we looked for any kind of diminutive movement and we continually talked to him in hopes he could somehow hear and understand. We endlessly