Dale's Story
Dale Harvey lives in Oregon.
He is 31 years of age and is grateful to be alive today.
He is still unable to drive.
He mostly gets around by walking or riding a bicycle
He believes in the power of prayer and is a dedicated prayer warrior.
On Monday, August 30, 1976, I started the second grade.
I arrived home around 2:45PM and my brother was there to watch and care for me.
Around 3:00PM that day I asked permission to invite someone over or to go to a friend's house.
I called and this person said they would be down in a few minutes.
I hung up the receiver and walked outside to get my bike.
I got tired of waiting and walked back to the porch.
" Hey Marty," tell Randy I've decided not to wait."
I walked to my bike and rode to the street.
Without looking I rode out.
Two cars were approaching my direction (a blue car and a green jeep).
Suddenly, the Jeep was coming at me.
Later I would learn it was driven by a drunk teenager.
His speed as he neared me was about 45 miles an hour.
We met and I flew through the air screaming "bloody
murder."
I landed on the pavement face first, blood was
everywhere.
The driver slammed on his brakes which alerted my brother, who when he looked out and saw me,
was shocked.
He called my folks. Mom answered and my brother said, " Mom, Mom," Dale was hit by a car, call an
ambulance!"
Mom threw down the phone and she and Dad sped home.
When they arrived, they motioned to the ambulance and followed it to the hospital.
They were greeted by the first nurse who saw me.
The nurse said,"It's lucky your son was brought in when he was."
Next came my neurosurgeon.
He introduced himself and said, "I have never seen a case this bad.
I doubt he will make it, since very few make it through this type of accident."
We were not Christians before the accident.
But there were many people who I may never know that prayed for my healing.
Jesus spoke to my dad from a picture of the last supper in the chapel at the hospital.
It was then that my dad prayed:
"I now ask in my own heart that God's will take place concerning our son.
Either to take him heavenward or to leave him here with us a while longer."
A few weeks passed and my doctor summoned my folks.
" I don't understand it, but your son is perking along."
This, I am sure eased the pain of my parents.
Just to know that their critically injured boy was going to live, was a great relief.
It took me quite a while to relearn everything.
It seemed like forever, but somehow I managed.
When I was released, everything was a new experience for me. I couldn't remember much, nor could I walk.
When I came home we were greeted by our dog.
It was a very difficult time for everyone since I couldn't do a lot.
I felt stupid because I could not do what others did.
I sat in my wheel chair and watched.
It took me a long time, which seemed like forever, to relearn all things.
When I went back to school, my mother went too.
She spent four weeks helping me
relearn to write.
After that time she had to leave. I didn't want her to leave me, but she had her own life to live.
I began to like doing for myself.
It was much harder, but I made it through the first year.
During the following year I started daydreaming.
I didn't get much work done, but I enjoyed it.
The next year, I had to repeat the third grade.
It was not until I started fourth grade that I began to live a normal life.
I attended a Christian high school.
I went there for five years and enjoyed it.
Four days after I graduated from high school, I was called to my first job.
I arrived at Canby Grove Conference Center and asked where to go.
The office sent me to the kitchen where I met my boss.
I worked there for 3 1/2 years.
During that time I had four bosses.
Also, there were two camp directors and many staff members came and went during my time there.
They told me I had been employed there longer than most anyone.
I had more seniority than most, and I truly enjoyed "scrubbing" for Jesus.
They said,"You may be scrubbing here for the rest of your days here,"
perhaps so, but I scrub to glorify the Holy name of Jesus
