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    Medicinal Grease
    by Brenda K. Blakely

    Yup, it was one of those Didn’t belong there in the first place, Mama done told you situations, and now he lay in the hospital bed, getting weaker by the day.

    Living life under Mama’s prayer coverage and God’s grace (and a zest for walking over the edge of the line) landed Cowboy in the emergency room with a gunshot wound oozing the life blood from his body.

    The crowd had just gathered around the courthouse in this small Mississippi town square. Most nights they gathered there to settle the day’s issues and contemplate grass roots solutions to the world’s problems.

    Trouble didn’t happen often, and when it did you could usually exit without notice before things got out of control. But it was one of those sweltering town square summer nights when sweat poured, and mouths and minds heated up to the issues.

    “Yes, I saw her leave, and no, I didn’t do anything about it, but it just wasn’t any of my business.” This was not the answer Toady wanted to hear. He pushed, Cowboy shoved, and the confrontation went on push-shove till Leroy decided to stop things before somebody got hurt.

    Cowboy's gun went off before he could even get it out of his britches. His calf shot out a spurt of blood, and Toady slowed down long enough to recognize the red stuff on his new jeans.

    Cowboy kept the EMT's and then the emergency room personnel informed -- Just close it up and let me out of here.

    When they had settled him in room 6268 he still hadn't quieted down.

    "Got no intentions of hanging round here; let’s just get my blood back and let me go.”

    After several days the infection had set in good, and Cowboy’s only conversation centered around food. "Grease, I gotta have grease!" he cried.

    His cries only brought forth lectures on the effects of grease -- heart disease, diabetes and any other infirmity they could connect -- along with encores for the fine, healthy food they were giving him from the hospital food service.

    Each day, his cry, “Grease, I gotta have grease!” became weaker and weaker.

    The doctors were perplexed; the strongest antibiotics weren’t making a dent in the infection. Cowboy had gone past all medical science could do.

    Even my teasing about his being 'Cowpoky' instead of 'Cowboy' didn’t rouse him up anymore.

    His mama watched him go down day by day and continued to lift her prayers, knowing sometimes God uses strange ways to bring His wayward children back into line.

    Mama was willing to trust God and wait on Him.

    Cowboy continued his monologue, "Grease, I need grease!" he cried, and all the while his dark chocolate-like skin was beginning to take on a pale, listless look.

    Next day though, Cowboy’s mama didn’t come till later in the evening, about the time the staff is at its lowest and busiest. She and her band of friends were dressed quite abundantly. They came in ever so quietly and settled down quickly, as if making a crucial evaluation of the hospital room environment.

    Appraisal done, in a flash Mama and her band of conspirators undressed, bringing out the results of a day’s labor over a hot stove.

    Everyone in the room waited with anticipation, not sure if Cowboy could even muster up the strength to bite into the crunch of the crispy fried chicken, sop up the dark brown gravy with his biscuit, or roll peas and fatback onto his knife. Slowly, he rolled over, his eyes begin to twinkle, and with each bite the grease began to flow into his waning body, giving him new vigor.

    Mama said she had cooked up two whole chickens and every greasy food she could think of, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try.

    Cowboy walked with a cane as he left the hospital the next day, a medical miracle, and Mama just thanked God her boy had another chance at life, thanks to the medicinal value of grease.


    This is a true story written by Cowboy's vanilla friend. The story is to be included in The Grass Roots Medical Journal. The names and location have been changed to protect the guilty.

    Brenda K. Blakely, M. Ed., writes: "Asking God to give me a platform was just the beginning of following Jesus. God has given education, opportunity and experience to prepare, equip and tune my heart to work for His kingdom. As I seek to complete my task, seeking His way, alongside of me are my supportive husband and family, my good friend K. K., faithful prayer warriors, Sunday School class and church members, and fellow travelers. Through these special people sharing their lives, I am given the opportunity to learn, see and experience life. Through them come content, setting, lessons, accountability and encouragement. God provides the accommodations and says, 'Write/teach.' My prayer: May all who come behind me find me faithful."

    Here's another of Brenda's stories at USADEEPSOUTH:
    Blackberry Safari

    Brenda Blakely is a writer for AllAboutGod.com. Her works include:
    "Freedom, the Price Is Paid"
    "HiStory: The Relationship of God and Man"
    "Greeen Pastures and Red Tape, workshop for ministry"
    Work in progress: "The Grass Roots Medical Journal"

    You may contact Brenda at this e-mail address.

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