A dramatic, story-version of my life events and the truth of God’s sovereignty even in creativity. Enjoy!
My name is Erin Fox and there has never been a more appropriate name bestowed upon a human being as Fox. I am just that, a fox. My sole defect is the fact that I have but one single ear on the right side of my head. I lost my left ear in a truck accident when I was working a job at a Christian camp during my youth. I also have an affinity for dead bodies. Maybe not so much an affinity as the fact that dead bodies always seem to find their way to me.
I remember the first time a dead body found me. I was a young woman in college and I was visiting the county fair. It had been deemed “Veteran Appreciation Day” and a crowd had gathered around some bent over, grey and grizzled nonagenarians. The eldest, a man in his mid-nineties, sat unassumingly before the crowd his arms and legs crossed and his tilted down. The crowd of teary eyed baby boomers dressed from head to toe in stars and stripes were so elated by the speeches and the medals handed out that they didn’t seem to notice the eldest nonagenarian slipping into the warm sleep of death. The woman handing out the medals assumed the elderly gentleman had fallen asleep when in reality he was taking his first steps into eternity.
When all was said and done and the ambulance had come and gone I made it my mission to seek out the deceased man’s body with whom I had felt an unexpected kinship to. When I arrived at the morgue I found out that the deceased had no next of kin and so I claimed him as my own. As I filled out the proper paperwork so that I became the deceased man’s kinsman redeemer, so that he became grafted into my own family, I noticed that he was, in fact, an organ donor.
I had his body, who I now knew was named John Christian, transferred to the local hospital. I inquired about his organ donation. They were happy to oblige. The nurse at the desk inquired about my missing ear. I told her the sad story about my freak truck accident and how I got my earring caught on a truck and how it wrenched the ear from my head. The nurse smiled earnestly at me,
“Bless your heart, child.” She said, “you’re in luck, we have an ear transfer specialist on staff and with Mr. Christian’s ears available, we can transfer his body parts to you.”
I knew we had had a special connection the moment I laid eyes on his sweet, sleeping face at the county fair. That day I went under the knife and John Christian’s ear became my own. For me it was a spiritual transformation. I was his and he was mine. His ear had become my own and I was born again. He had become my spiritual father and I his daughter. He gave me a most precious gift: a new lease on life.
It was like the story of the man Jesus, a Jew, God’s own son, a veteran in the spiritual battle that is life. He died and his life was supernaturally transposed to our own. Through his life and death he made us his own children and gave us, too, a new lease on life. Eternal life. I was a woman with one 20 year old ear on the right side of my head, and the saggy ear of a 90 year old man on my left. I was forever transformed.