Mark Durrance, 12 years old, lived with his family in rural southwest Florida. They had no telephone. One Sunday afternoon Mark took his BB gun and his dog Bobo into the far-reaching scrub and brush behind their isolated house. On the way home, jumping a ditch, he landed on the squishy back of a six foot Eastern diamondback rattlesnake. The pit viper reacted violently. Its massive head struck the upper leather of Mark’s right shoe. Its fangs, an inch and a half apart, punctured his foot near his ankle. The snake, writhing to free itself of the shoe leather, injected an immense quantity of deadly venom into the helpless boy. The snake venom detonated in Mark’s foot, surging through his leg like fire. The boy knew he was in terrible trouble. A hundred fifty yards from his house, he tried not to panic as the poison overcame him. He felt weak all over. Everything swirled around him. Alone and in shock, he could barely stand. His barking dog could not help. Mark's brother Buddy got to him first, unconscious and convulsing on the living room floor. He screamed for their parents. They tied his leg with a tourniquet and carried him to his work truck. Flooring it, Mark’s father raced down the county roads begging for time to reach the medical clinic 17 miles away. Mark's breathing grew fainter and fainter. The truck stalled a mile short of the clinic. Snatching Mark from his mother’s embrace, his dad stood in the middle of the road lifting up his dying child. Finally, a Haitian farm worker gave them a ride. The clinic could do very little. After starting artificial respiration, they sent Mark and his family to a another hospital 10 miles further. There Mark's breathing stopped. His kidneys failed. Paralysis and severe internal bleeding set in. Darkened and horribly swollen, blood seeping from his eyes, mouth and ears, he no longer looked human. Only his heart kept going. Exhausted, sleepless, his parents prayed hour after hour. On day three, Mark regained consciousness. Day four he breathed on his own. When he could speak, Mark confided to his parents that something else happened at the ditch. A white-robed figure appeared to him. I know it was God, Mark whispered. He had a deep voice. I felt calm. He picked me up and carried me all the way. He told me I was going to be sick but not to worry, I would make it. Then he went up into the sky. The last thing I remember was opening the door to our house. The doctors stated it was medically impossible for Mark Durrance to walk the length of one and a half football fields to his house and up the porch steps. Mark knew that. He also knows the truth with absolute certainty. After months of skin grafts and therapy, he would heal. Looking back years later, Mark knows the power of heavenly blessings -- the sure proof when, as a child, God carried held him in his arms. [Further reading: “A Boy, a Snake and an Angel” Readers Digest, August 1988] In Christ, Fr. Barker +++
Mark Durrance, 12 years old, lived with his family in rural southwest Florida. They had no telephone. One Sunday afternoon Mark took his BB gun and his dog Bobo into the far-reaching scrub and brush behind their isolated house. On the way home, jumping a ditch, he landed on the squishy back of a six foot Eastern diamondback rattlesnake. The pit viper reacted violently. Its massive head struck the upper leather of Mark’s right shoe. Its fangs, an inch and a half apart, punctured his foot near his ankle. The snake, writhing to free itself of the shoe leather, injected an immense quantity of deadly venom into the helpless boy.