They sat in silence and watched the Timberwolves pull out a 101 to 98 buzzer beater over the Mavericks. Seth slapped his knees. “Welp. Time for me to head out.”
Sammy walked him to the door. “Thanks for the pep talk. I’ll think about what you said.” He shut the door behind Seth, then returned to his room and sat on the edge of his bed.
He pulled open the drawer to his nightstand and picked up the envelope on the top of the stack of envelopes withWilliamson every return address. The paper felt rough under his fingertips. One corner of the envelope was bent and dirty. He tapped the envelope against his palm.
Maybe try doing one thing scared.
With a swift movement, he tore the envelope open. Inside was a folded piece of lined notebook paper. He pulled it out.
Dear Mr. Johnson,
This will be the last time I write to you. I certainly don’t want to bother you. You’ve already done so much for our family, just by pulling my son to safety.
I don’t know if you have read any of the other letters I wrote to you, but let me say again how incredibly grateful I am. My son would not be alive if it wasn’t for your heroic action.
Sammy almost threw the letter in the trash. He closed his eyes, then forced them open again.
He scanned the document for where he’d left off.
Teddy’s surgery is scheduled for tomorrow. He’s feeling pretty low. I keep telling him to be brave, but I think he’s losing hope. If you are a praying man, please pray for Teddy.
You remain in our prayers,
Melissa Williams
Surgery? What was this about? Sammy searched the drawer, noting the dates on the postmarks of the letters. He put them in order and began to read from the beginning.
The letters told a story of a prolonged medical battle. Teddy had never fully recovered from a broken leg he’d gotten in the accident. He’d gone through multiple therapies, but nothing had worked. In the second-to-last letter, Sammy read that the team at Children’s Minnesota, a hospital in Minneapolis, decided to remove Teddy’s badly damaged leg. He would be transferred to an inpatient program at Sister Kenny, a rehab specialty clinic located in Golden Valley, a Minneapolis suburb.
He’d had the surgery over two months ago.
Melissa had slipped in a photo with that second-to-last letter. A boy of about ten lay in a hospital bed, a smile on his face. Even from a photo, Sammy could see that the boy was faking.
Melissa ended with the words:
We’ve taken the following verse as our theme verse for this time in Teddy’s life: “Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!”
Her words sank deep inside him, filling in the cracks in his heart. Maybe he wasn’t truly a coward, but he was acting like one. Hiding behind his accident and recovery instead of moving forward with his life. Instead of pursuing God’s best, he’d just been coasting.
That ended today.
Heroes acted even when scared.
He went back downstairs and found his jacket as the sound of the garage door opening echoed through the house.
His mom came into the hall and hung her jacket in the closet. “Hi, honey.”
“Hi, Ma.”
“Everything okay?” She reached out and touched his arm.
“I’m gonna take the truck to Minneapolis.”
“Um, okay.” She blinked several times, and her eyes searched his face.
He forced a smile. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about it, and I think I need to go see Teddy Williams. I read the letters.” Okay, maybe he’d only thought about it for five minutes before making a decision, but any longer and he would have talked himself out of it.
His mom put her hand to her mouth for a moment before taking his hand. “I’m proud of you. Want me to drive you to Minneapolis?”
