The first phone call came early on Friday morning. Quinten was having trouble breathing, and they were on their way to the emergency room. I said a quick prayer and — knowing I was scheduled to be alone in the office and didn't have any chance of taking off — left for work.
The second call came at lunchtime. My daughter told me Quinten was on his way to a hospital in Indianapolis — and his father was on his way to jail.
Shaken Baby Syndrome. Huh?
Quinten's father was a nice guy — a CNA who lovingly cared for dozens of elderly patients. How could the authorities accuse him of abusing a child?
He had confessed.
Quinten's brain was swollen. He had multiple broken bones. Despite the confession, no family members would be permitted to see or visit Quinten while the authorities pursued their investigation.
Hours later, I was with my daughter when the caseworker declared firmly:
He WILL be blind. He WILL be severely retarded. IF he lives the weekend.
The story was on the front page of Saturday's newspaper. No names.
When we went to church Sunday morning "the baby in the paper" was at the top of the prayer list.
I heard later that most of the churches in Muncie had prayed for "the baby in the paper".
Other people prayed too. The uncle who hadn't spoken to God since he was ten — who blamed God for letting his Daddy die — prayed.
The uncle who believes in "science" — not "religion" — prayed.
Quinten was in the hospital for several months.
Weeks after he was released from the hospital, my daughter called. "I think he can SEE," she said. His therapist cautioned her about "wishful thinking." The therapist did some tests. The results: Quinten HAD regained his sight.
A few months later, we were babysitting Quinten on a Friday evening. Tim began to sing "Jesus Loves Me" to Quinten. Every time Tim said the name "Jesus", Quinten pointed up toward heaven.
When Heather came to pick up the baby, we told her about the song, and asked her who had taught Quinten where Jesus was. "Nobody", she said. "He just knows."
We give God praise, honor, and glory for Quinten's sight. For touching the hearts of his uncles (one has promised to start attending church with us; the other now acknowledges that he believes in God, but not in "religion"). For knowing "the baby in the paper"—-and for letting Quinten know Him.
