Buckeyes vs. Bobcats

I took a break from our personal traumas Saturday to go to Columbus for the Ohio State vs. Ohio University football game. My wife and I got tickets to the game long before any of our Anna issues came about.
Jessica wasn't up for making the trip so far away from the hospital, so I brought Lissie instead. She had a blast. My proudest moment as a football father and a well-known cheapskate was suggesting after the halftime show that we walk around the stadium and look at the store. She said she wanted to stay in her seat and watch the game, but it was all right if I went. Obviously with a 7-year-old, I passed on that.
As for the game, I was in the awkward position of being an Ohio alum and an Ohio State fan. I tried to express that with a red and white Ohio State T-shirt and a black and green Ohio ballcap. One guy sitting next to me asked about it when he mentioned he couldn't boo OU when the Bobcats came on the field.
My answer was this: I got a degree from Ohio University, but I got a national championship in football from Ohio State.
I ended up cheering for both teams. And while I enjoyed OU holding the lead into the fourth quarter and giving the Buckeyes a good scare, I'm happy Ohio State won. I can't imagine the Buckeyes would've remained in the national championship race with a loss to a MAC team, and I don't think that one win would've propelled the Bobcats into the national title hunt, especially with the week 1 loss to Wyoming.

Hand of God touches us

Column in Tuesday's The Lima News

A miracle happened last week, right here in Lima. I witnessed this miracle, and yet for some reason I'm reluctant to share it.
Perhaps it's the fear of being labeled as a fanatic. It could be the worry of exposing one of the inner truths that makes me tick. But sometimes you see something so incredible that, no matter what other people think, you have to tell them about it.
I saw the hand of God touch my newborn daughter and change her life immediately.
My loving wife delivered Anna last Wednesday night, about three weeks earlier than we'd expected. Anna immediately began having respiratory problems, which we later learned were from a disease called Persistent Pulmonary Hypertension of the Newborn. It's a disease that hits about 3 percent of premature babies, where the child essentially wants to live as if she were still in the womb instead of adapting to the outside world.
She spent most of Thursday in a stable condition as the staff at the hospital figured out what was wrong. Then Friday came, and she slowly took a turn for the worse. She began rejecting help from the ventilator.
A priest from our church visited with my wife as I grabbed lunch with some visitors. During the time I was out of the room, things went downhill quickly for Anna, and most of the staff at the special care nursery seemed focused on keeping our little bundle of joy alive. A frantic call from my wife brought me back to the nursery.
Someone suggested baptizing Anna on the spot. We agreed, and our parish priest performed the baptism in that nursery. He then gave her another sacrament, the anointing of the sick.
I didn't know it at the time, but that must have been when the miracle happened. After two days of consistently bad news, things turned. Anna began to accept the help of the ventilator. Over the next several days, most of the news has been good.
She still needs some more little miracles before we'll bring her home. She's still very sick, the doctors tell us. But I carry the words of the priest with me like a life preserver: “You have to have hope and courage.” God brings me both of them, and I'm proud Anna and the rest of the family accept the Lord's help too.
The doctor handling Anna's case noticed the rosary beads my wife carries and confided in us that it truly helped Anna's cause. Hearing him say that reaffirmed my faith during a difficult time for our family.
I wasn't planning on writing about Anna's miracle in a column. I intended to only share this story with family and close friends. Then I heard a reading during Sunday Mass from Jeremiah: “I say to myself, I will not mention him, I will speak in his name no more. But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart, imprisoned in my bones; I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.”
I have to tell people about this wondrous miracle. I can't hold it in anymore. It's too incredible not to share.