Once we were in college, the kids from my church’s high school youth group only saw each other in the summertime. We’d been looking forward to a get-together by the lake that day in 1952. So we were surprised when one of us, Harley, didn’t show. Finally our pastor arrived to explain what had happened.
“Harley’s had an accident,” he said. “I don’t know all of the details—I think he was working with some chemicals and there was an explosion. The doctors have bandaged his eyes. They’re not sure he’ll ever be able to see again.”
All of us prayed nonstop over the next few days. I hated to think of Harley losing his sight. He was so smart and talented, with so much to give and his whole life in front of him.
God, please heal him, I asked.
Finally the bandages came off. Harley was okay! His vision was restored.
Life soon sent us all in different directions. I moved to California. Harley stayed in Oklahoma. Occasionally my mom gave me updates on what he was doing. I knew he went to medical school and became an ophthalmologist. Then I lost track of him for years.
One day I decided to see if I could find out what had happened to Harley. I looked him up on the internet and learned that J. Harley Galusha had become a true innovator in the field of vision correction, pioneering new techniques and procedures. He traveled all over the world—to Africa, India, South America—offering his services for free and training eye doctors.
Forty years after that long-ago summer day at the lake, I reconnected with my old friend.
“I’ll never forget how hard we all prayed for you to be healed,” I said.
“I prayed too,” said Harley. “But not just for healing. I asked God what I should do with my life, whatever happened. By the time I left the hospital I knew I was going to dedicate myself to restoring the sight of others.” God had answered both our prayers and through them, no doubt, the prayers of many others.
