This disastrous image was accompanied by the following text, which I shall pick apart in my usual snarky fashion. You might say that I should cut the author some slack, especially where grammar is concerned; however, when you reach the end and see that this was little more than a subtle variation on a chain letter, perhaps you’ll agree that no slack is owed.
My name is James.
Hi James. Call me Ishmael. Some years ago – never mind how long precisely – you know what? I’m sorry…this is your story, not mine.
I and my wife Sandra got married 14yrs ago and since then we had no child.
James, I’m going to stop you right there. I’m sure you meant to say “My wife Sandra and I”. It’s just polite to put others first, especially your wife. Sorry…carry on.
As Christians, we still believed God for a baby at the due time.
What if it wasn’t part of God’s plan for you to have a baby at all? Seems like you’re setting yourself up for a huge disappointment if you believe that God will give you what you want in due time. But hey, I’m not here to tell you how to follow your religion.
Finally, my wife got pregnant and everything was alright.
Or all right, if you’re really picky. But never mind that. You were saying?
On the day of delivery, I was driving her to the hospital and suddenly our car collided with an on-coming lorry and we had a fatal accident.
Okay, Jim (May I call you Jim?), I’ve just got a couple of issues. You say your car suddenly collided with an on-coming lorry…as opposed to gradually colliding with it? I’m just trying to establish a mental image of what went down. Also, about that fatal accident you had…I skipped ahead to the end of the story and (Spoiler alert) you’re all still alive. I’m not sure you understand what the word fatal means.
Oh wait…did the truck driver die? I mean, you never mention him again, so I’m not sure. Boy, I’d feel like a real jerk if that were the case.
My sister narrated it thus:
THUS SPAKE MY SISTER!!!
”We had a call from the police through the identification found on you that you and Sandra were in the hospital.
Wait a minute, Jimmy: The police called your sister through your identification? Does your driver’s license have a tiny cell phone built into it, or does an iPhone now count as legal identification?
When we came to the hospital, the Doctor asked us to sign some documents so that an operation could be performed on Sandra to bring the baby out.”
Whoa hang on, Jimbo. You’re glossing over some pretty important details here. Did your wife appoint your sister as her healthcare proxy prior to the events on that fateful day? Was there nobody higher on the surrogate decision-making hierarchy who could have been consulted? I have to say, Jim, not knowing these critical details lessens my emotional involvement in the story.
The baby came out alive but Sandra was declared dead while I was in comma with my two legs broken.
Another innocent victim claimed by punctuation! Damn you, commas! Damn you all!
Also (and not to downplay the seriousness of your wife’s temporary demise), I’m glad you confirmed that you are in fact a biped, James. So many authors forget to remind their audience exactly how many legs they have.
In the night, a man clothed in white appeared to me and touched my head.
Yeah, that was the doctor. He was checking on you. It’s what they do in hospitals, especially when you’re in comma. (If you’re in exclamation mark, they have a whole team of doctors rotating through on an hourly basis.)
From that moment, I started sneezing.
So you had never sneezed prior to that moment? That’s odd.
After 5mins, I sat up and became a little strong.
You sneezed for five straight minutes and then felt stronger? That’s the opposite of how I feel after a marathon sneezing session. I always feel like I want to dunk my head in a bucket of warm salt water and then die.
Then I asked, ‘where is my wife’? Then, somebody the next door started sneezing too. That was Sandra. ‘She’s alive, she’s alive’, the nurses shouted.
Something doesn’t add up. If the nurses thought she was dead up until now, why hadn’t anybody taken her down to the morgue? I’m no expert on hospital policy, but I doubt they leave recently deceased patients lying in much-needed hospital beds in the hopes that they’ll suddenly sneeze themselves back to life.
Sandra also narrated that the same man clothed in white who touched my head also touched her head.
One doctor visited two patients? UNTHINKABLE!
Few days later we were discharged from the hospital. My broken legs have also been restored and I can walk perfectly too.
Yes, broken bones often heal quite well when tended to by medical professionals. I mean, it would be different if your legs had been shattered so severely that the doctors gave you zero chances of ever walking again, but since you didn’t mention that, I have to assume that your injuries were not that severe. Good for you, Jimmy-Jammy!
Today, I, Sandra and our daughter named Miracle are all alive.
Jim, I’m really happy that the three of you are alive, but I must remind you: Sandra, our daughter Miracle, and I. Respect, Jimmy. Respect.
What was supposed to be our happiest day turned out to be a sorrowful day but we thank God for today.
But you survived, and you’ve got a child! All in all, you came out ahead.
Ladies and gentlemen, God exists and still performs miracles, even the miracle of bringing the dead to live.
Okay James, I’m not going to argue with you about whether God performs miracles, or even if he exists. But your story thus far, while certainly…um…interesting?…hasn’t really put me in mind of anything miraculous. You said your wife was declared dead, but people die and are revived all the time. How long was she gone? Obviously not long enough for them to move her to the morgue, and they certainly weren’t keeping her body around for your benefit, since you were in a coma and they had no way of knowing how long you’d be out.
James, let’s be honest: you survived a terrible accident, as did your family, but nothing that happened to you falls outside the realm of physical possibility. None of these events should be counted as a miracle, unless you’re willing to broaden the definition of the word “miracle” to such an extent that it becomes utterly meaningless.
Now let’s say that the lorry had mysteriously vanished just before hitting you, only to reappear intact on the other side of your car, thereby preventing a collision. That would be a miracle. Or let’s say that your wife was really dead – like eight hours dead – and she suddenly sat up, alive as ever. That would be a miracle. Anything that utterly defies scientific explanation is a miracle. Your story, inspiring as it is, is no miracle. Sorry to pour a metaphorical glass of cold water on you, James, but that’s how I see it.
Now I decree that:
1. Nothing will cut your joy short on the happiest day of your life in Jesus name.
I think you meant to say pray instead of decree, Jim-a-lim-a-ding-dong. Not to pick nits, but when you decree anything in Jesus’s name, it sort of implies that you think you have the authority to boss Jesus around. But once again, I’m not trying to tell you how to be religious.
2. I command every dead thing in your life to come back alive in Jesus name.
What? Hell no, I don’t want that! I’d be up to my eyeballs in decaying goldfish zombies!
3. This year, may you receive a miracle that will attract the attention of the world in Jesus mighty name.
I don’t know, Jimbo-Tron. Your idea of a miracle seems to require a huge personal tragedy as a catalyst. I’d just as soon not, thanks just the same.
Type AMEN in the comment box to claim these prayers. Share this testimony.
Once again, we are reminded of the awesome power of Facebook to guide the hand of God. Zuckerberg be praised.