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In our instant world, we've made Jesus a life coach A therapist, a political ally The Missing Messiah, a new book by Kyle Eidelman and Mark Moore Helps us understand how Western culture has gradually reshaped Jesus into our image And recognize the difference between a personalized savior and revolutionary king If you believe there's a more dangerous, more majestic Messiah than the one you've inherited, visit MissingMessiah.com to learn more today. This is Lee Habib, and this is Our American Stories, the show where America is the star and the American people. Up next, a story from John O'Leary. John's the author of the best-selling book, On Fire, which recounts his harrowing near-death experience of being burnt on 100% of his body when he was just nine years old. Today John recounts his homecoming from his long stay in the hospital a homecoming that many expected never to happen Let get into the story Take it away John Coming home from the hospital, we loaded into our Mercury station wagon, wood on the side, purple in color, beautiful car, mid-80s vintage.
Loaded in, the dog was with us, man, and I thought that was the party. That's what we had planned. And then I always remember sweeping around our little turn right before we enter into our subdivision. And in the distance, I saw a firefighter's ladder up. Near that, another firefighter's ladder up.
Between the two of them, an American flag hanging over the street. There was a marching band there. It seemed like the entire community had come out for this thing, not just neighbors and firefighters and a few nurses. It was this incredible celebration. Eventually, the party dies down, and now our family gets to begin life together.
This is the moment that we planned the homecoming to be about the dinner. My mom made my favorite meal, which at that time, if you can imagine, was all grot and potatoes. My whole time in a hospital, man, I just dreamed of all grot and potatoes made by my mother.
So she made those and made chicken, made a little salad and French bread. It's all on the table. The house is rebuilt. The dog's in the corner. We pray before we eat.
And then it's the go time. The only challenge was I'm in a wheelchair and I'm missing my fingers.
So I can't eat. My sister, her name is Amy. She scoops some potatoes, brings them toward my mouth. And right before they enter, my mother says, Amy, drop the fork. If John is hungry, he will feed himself tonight.
And even in saying that, I get emotional thinking about it. Because what mom doesn't want to feed their babies?
so I look at my mom shocked and I say mom what are you talking about like I can't eat and she says to me hey if John's hungry he'll feed himself he'll feed himself so at first I can't do it a moment later I spill the entire plate on the floor the dog gets fed will eventually my mom fills up a second plate I can't figure it out again my sister can't feed me everyone else leaving the dinner table. It ultimately ruined the celebration. But about two hours into it, a little boy with no fingers figured out a way to wedge that fork just precisely between two hands using a splint, picked up some potatoes, moved it toward his mouth, started chewing on a potato-y goodness. And the entire time as I'm chewing and then getting ready to swallow, I remember thinking, I hate my mom, this mean lady who would not feed me. I hate my mom.
But no one ever had to feed me again after that day. The following morning, we had breakfast together. And eating breakfast together was a little bit easier. And then lunch and dinner the following day. And then eventually progressing through life.
A couple weeks later, when I was unable to do anything still, like anything real, get dressed, that kind of stuff, I was telling my mom that I'll never do anything in my life. And a couple hours later, the doorbell rang and her piano teacher showed up. I mean, I have no fingers. And this piano teacher comes into our house, walks into the kitchen, looks at me. I look up at her and I say, mama, why is she here?
Not a word was spoken. My mother just unhooks the brakes in my wheelchair. She rolls me away from the kitchen table down a hallway She takes me She locks the brakes in front of a piano She walks out I stuck in a wheelchair with Mrs Bartello She puts her right arm around me and she says John this will be hard but we can do it together. She then tethers a pen to my right hand. I've got morphine coursing through my veins.
My left arm is in an airplane splint, but with my right hand and a pen sticking out of it, I'm playing the piano the entire time thinking I hate my mom why does she do this stuff to me I cannot believe this and the only time I hated my mother more than that day was the following day when the doorbell rang and the teacher came back and then she came back and then she came back for five and a half years this teacher came into my life teaching a little boy not how to play the piano, although that's one thing she did. She taught a little boy and a young man that he can do hard things in life when he believes it possible. Maybe not all by himself, but together.
So what kind of mother, what kind of mom is my mom? Today, I'm able to travel around the country and around the world. I'm able to change kids' diapers and feed them in high chairs. I have full ability physically to do everything, not because I'm great, but because my mother was. Because she saw a moment in time where her son could do nothing, but she knew that that was a lie.
And so although my mom might have ruined dinner that night, I think she gave me something far greater than a warm meal. She gave me agency. I don't know of any other mother who would have done what she did. I've never heard another story, in fact, of a mother as challenging, as difficult, as expectant. She's the kind who believes you can do all things through God who strengthens you.
She believes a little boy with no fingers can feed himself. She believes a little boy with no fingers can jam a cold boy on the piano, and he can. She believes he can learn how to become a man. She believes that he can eventually be convicted enough in his own walk. He can graduate from college, start his own business, start a family.
The vast majority of the success that I've been able to achieve in my life rests on the shoulders of the foundation my mother poured for me.
So today as a dad myself, I try not to snowplow. I try not to make it easy. I try not to make my children's lives without their bruises and scrapes and missteps. I'm the kind of dad who will let them fall and be the kind of dad who is there for them when they come back to wipe them off, to clean them up, to put the bandaid on, to hug them, to pat them on the bottom and to have them run right back outside. And I think we need a little bit more of that in our parenting today to love our kids enough that they can get hurt.
That's certainly the kind of father we have. And a special thanks to John O'Leary, author of the bestselling book on fire. And my goodness, what his mom did for him.
Well, not enough of parents today do these kinds of things, but we must. And you heard why. The story of John O'Leary and of his mom, here on Our American Stories. This is Lee Habib, host of Our American Stories. Every day on this show, we tell stories of history, faith business love loss and your stories Send us your story small or large to our email oas at ouramericanstories That OAS at OurAmericanStories We love to hear them and put them on the air Our audience loves them too.
This is Julian Edelman from Games With Names. I want to take a second to talk about something that's personal to me. I've had the privilege of working closely with Robert Kraft for a long time And one thing I've always respected is how seriously he takes up standing up to hate As a Jewish athlete, my identity is something I am proud of But I also know what it feels like to be singled out for it That's why this new commercial for the Blue Square Alliance Against Hate That aired during the big game really hit home It's about showing up for someone when they're targeted even if you don't have the perfect words. And sometimes standing next to someone is enough. And you can show support by sharing the blue square.
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