His Blood For Yours

I was recently asked if I had a favorite story in my latest book titled "Becoming..." and, although I love them all, I decided to go out on a limb and choose one that received mixed reviews as my favorite. I’ve been told the writing on that story was flawless, the main character marvelous, and the story spiritually challenging. However, there is a part in the story where the man, an individual who had shot multiple people before falling victim himself and getting saved by the female physician, tells her that he's not a bad man but had just had a bad day! That line hit a nerve with people. I was told he WAS a bad man! What I’d hoped to show was that people often do things when ran by emotion. The doctor shares real compassion with him and gives him hope. She shares with him about the Great Physician whose blood still cleans the stains from all of our bad days. I like the story and the fact that she ministers to him throughout. Unlike some of my other works, “Becoming…” is very faith centered. I would not call it preachy, however, all the stories deal with issues of faith.

Enjoy “His Blood For Yours” (Originally titled “Stains of a Bad Day”)

Lindsey Walker veered right, taking the exit ramp that would lead her to the Red Dragon Emporium. It was the place to find the perfect accessories to go in her newly redecorated living room. She’d chosen a warm, earthy pallet for the designer to work with. She loved how it was coming together, but decided it needed a subtle pop to liven the tranquility; something simple like a red vase.

This part of town was foreign to her. She carefully navigated her candy apple Lexus according to her GPS. Left turn, then right. Rounding the corner she saw a grouping of emergency vehicles. The hypnotic lights all flashed in unison. Blue. Red. Blue. Red. A young police officer motioned her away but she stopped instead.

“I’m a doctor. Can I be of help?” There were several bodies lying around. Each appeared to be responding to care; all except a man somewhat apart from the others. He lay in a crimson pool of his own blood while a young EMT frantically tried to stop the red flow.

“We’ve got a bleeder. Can’t seem to stop it. He’s, uhm, he’s the gunman. Responsible for all these…” He waved his hand to indicate the victims.

Lindsey nodded. “Let me see what I can do, okay?”

The policeman nodded. Lindsey got her bag from the car. He escorted her to the EMT. The young man looked up at them. “I can’t save him. Can’t stop the bleeding or even slow it.”

“Let’s have a look, shall we?” Years of training and experience as a top-notch surgeon taught Lindsey to be calm in emergency situations. It helped to ease the tension of those around her as well.

She knelt beside the body, barely noticing the blood soaking through her Calvin Klein jeans. A brief exam led her to a few tricks of the trade, all of which proved useless.

Dr. Walker moved her hair from her face while listening to the EMT rattle off the man's vitals. He shook his head. “He's a goner, doc.”

But Lindsey refused to give up. She closed her eyes and placed her blood-soaked, gloved hands together. “Father,” she whispered, “Tell me what I need to do to save this man. He needs a second chance with You.” She lifted her hands to the heavens and spoke the words she’d heard others say in the hallways as they’d prayed for loved ones before surgery. “Guide my hands, Lord God.”

A feeling of peace and knowing washed over her. She knew exactly what to do. Pulling the gloves off, she ordered the EMT to douse her hands with the antibacterial spray from her bag. Bewildered, he did as ordered. She called out tools and he lifted them from her bag.

Lindsey made an incision in the man’s side just large enough for her hand to fit through. The others who had gathered around watched in utter shock.

Lindsey closed her eyes, envisioned the internal body, and felt for the bleeder. “There!” she said at last. “Clamp.” The EMT handed it to her as her hand emerged holding parts of the man’s innards. The gurgling of blood lessened and stopped. Lindsey packed around the open wound. “We need to transport him immediately. He needs more than what I can offer him here.” Heads nodded. Activity followed.

As they began to wheel the man away on the stretcher, Lindsey leaned down and whispered to him, “He saved your body. Now let Him save your spirit. His blood for yours.”

In a moment he was whisked away from the crime scene en route to Emmert Memorial Hospital.

The next day, Lindsey went to see the stranger she'd helped to save. She knew exactly who deserved the glory and she didn’t mind telling others as much. Alone she could never have saved him.

Through bandages and tubes he smiled at her weakly. “Thank you,” he whispered. Lindsey nodded, watching him try for more words. “I’m not a bad man. Just a…..bad day.”

“I know.” She replied as she sat close to the bed. Her compassion brought him to tears. “Will you let me tell you about real hope?” He nodded gratefully.

Taking his hand, Lindsey spoke of another doctor, the Great Physician, who died upon a cross that we might have life more abundantly; whose blood still cleans the stains from all of our bad days.