One of the greatest miracles that occurred in my life was in 2001. I was driving home from work on a Friday evening, frustrated with a dissatisfying job, having worked in the auto repair industry for almost 30 years. I was burning out and also missing my father who had passed away just a year prior. Suffering from lung cancer, he led everyone at home in Ireland to believe that he was feeling better and insisted on coming over to see his new granddaughter Ana Claire. Francesca and I had just adopted her and returned home from Guatemala when we learned of the seriousness of his condition.
For three weeks we all enjoyed his company even though he put on a brave face to hide much of his pain and his difficulty with breathing. Fortunately, with Francesca working in the medical profession, she was able to get a bottle of oxygen and a mask which I picked up the next morning. On breathing through the mask I remember my father remarked that it was like taking in a breath of fresh air.
On his second day in Greensboro, we took him to Pomona Clinic, where he was treated right away and x-rayed. His diagnosis was that he had severe phenomena that had dangerously filled both lungs. He had only a week to perhaps a month at best left to live. It quickly dawned on me that we both knew that this would be our last time together and we were right.
Three weeks later and just a week after returning home to Ireland he was back in the hospital where he passed away soon after. He gave so much of himself and that his visit was his greatest gift, sharing his remaining time with all of us, and allowing Ana Claire to meet and spend time with her grandfather.
As I drove home with that stressful burden plaguing me, I found myself talking to him in the car. I told him how much I missed him and still do. I also talked about this new wood carving skill that was developing very quickly and I wanted desperately to pursue it, but I had no idea how to get my name and experience out there. Begging him for help and with the overwhelmed sadness I was experiencing, I broke down in tears. I became that little lost boy who had no one to turn to. Dad had taught me so much through the course of our life. In addition to being a great father, he taught me cabinet making and later all aspects of building construction. He was the father every boy wished for and he always had an answer to any problem I ever encountered. Now, I needed his help one more time. Sunday morning Francesca asked me to go to church with her. I agreed and after seating ourselves in one of the church pews, a visiting heavyset African American Bishop of Louisiana entered the altar and began serving the mass. When the time came when prayers were offered up for the deceased, Dad’s and Martin Luthur’s names were the only names read. It was understandable for Mr. King’s name to be read as the next day was his holiday. The surprise of hearing Dad’s name being read blew my mind. Later, outside on the church steps as everyone lined up to greet this bishop, my opportunity eventually came where I could tell him that it was my father’s name that he read in church. His responding words caught me off guard when he replied, “You might want to talk to the other priests inside as various names of other deceased were picked to be read at each service, and your father’s name was in fact picked for a later service, but somehow, I felt compelled to read it at this Mass.” “I am glad you were here to appreciate it.
The next morning shortly after returning to work, I get a phone call from Francesca. She sounded very excited as she went on to tell me that a woman had called right after I left for work. She said that I had come highly recommended as a sculptor and she wanted to hire me to carve a peace totem pole 18 to 22 feet tall for the Tomlinson Montessori Elementary School in High Point. ( 30 minutes away) The school had been designated an international peace site and her committee was very eager to meet me.
Two days later I received a phone call from a cousin of Francesca’s who worked locally in the advertising business. He says, “Paul,” “I have a woman in my office who asked me if I knew a sculptor. She is the wife of a firefighter captain and is looking for someone to create a bronze sculpture for the Greensboro Fire Department.” This is her number if you are interested in following up.”?
Seeing how my week was unfolding and recognizing that this was my answer to my prayers excited me to no end, and though I was filled with an overwhelming uncertainty with two such daunting projects, I followed up by contacting both women very quickly. The following Sunday we returned to church only to hear Dad’s name, Christopher Nixon being read once again. The church could not offer me an explanation, but for me, that was Dad and the confirmation I needed, He had heard my plea and had responded to me. I suddenly took on a new confidence and given how both projects were presented to me in such a way, I somehow knew I could not fail. Although both works were large-scale projects and remember it was only four years prior I discovered I could carve wood. I will say to God by my side all the right people appeared in my life at that time when I needed help.
That week changed my future life completely. It also gave me a touch of proof that there is way more to this life and beyond than I always believed.