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Have you ever tried to write or tell a story within a story? It is tough. However, that is exactly what happened to me today.

Today is Saturday, my weekly writing day, and I did not have the remotest idea what to write about.

Usually, by Thursday or surely by Friday, I am ready to put pen to paper by Saturday morning. But not so today.

I write weekly for five newspapers, one church bulletin and for Brookedale, which means I have to write and dictate by Saturday evening. Not knowing a column topic, I feel strongly was serious business.

In desperation, I pulled from my bookshelf holding every column I’ve ever written since 1990, and as if something focused my eye and guided my hand, I opened to a group of columns I wrote and labeled, “Reality of Miracles.”

Oh, good holy grief, I had totally forgotten a two-year series I wrote called just that: “Realty of Miracles.”

In this series was a compilation of true stories either I wrote or someone submitted a true story to me about a miraculous experience.

Immediately I knew I would just open to the best miracle to tell you about, and I did.

Before I begin, I want you to know I believe in miracles. I further believe miracles are God’s acts that cannot be explained by any other way.

There is the first miracle in this column. There in front of me sat the topic I am most passionate about.

An hour ago, I did not know what to write about this week, and there it was in front of me.

There was this 8-year-old boy who was attacked by a bull shark as he played in knee-deep water.

It happened not far down the beach from our home.

It was about dusk.

He wasn’t alone. There were other people, other children even, and no one will ever know why this normal little boy down in South Florida visiting his aunt and uncle on vacation, was chosen by this seven-foot, 250-pound bull shark for his dinner.

What happened next was hardly believable, even by folks familiar who genuinely respected the fact that when people go into the ocean they are entering into another being’s territory.

We are the interloper not the shark.

Of course, this 8-year-old boy didn’t think like that at all and was simply playing in the surf with everyone else.

But while one moment he was laughing and splashing, the next moment the shark made his choice without a struggle from the child.

The shark tore his arm completely off at the shoulder and then for good measure, looped back and bit off a large part of his thigh.

The boy had the strength to get to the beach but had lost almost all his body’s blood.

His aunt started CPR because she could find no pulse at all.

And his uncle (and this story is really about the uncle) dove into the water and proceeded to wrestle this huge shark.

He realized his nephews arm was gone and figured it was probably in the gullet of the shark.

This strength that no man alone could have, the uncle managed to beach him, pry his mouth open, saw the arm down there. He reached down and miraculously pulled the whole arm out.

Impossible? It was beyond human ability.

If you ask the uncle about how he did it, he simply said, “I didn’t.”

The boy was whisked quickly away by ambulance and in another vehicle the arm was wrapped and rushed right behind.

I know God can give us super human strength. I’ve heard of it before.

Well, believe me, for a young man to out do a huge bull shark, reach inside and retrieve his nephew’s arm completely in tact and deliver it to the doctor in time to reattach it, it required this miraculous strength.

It happened. It’s true. Because of God’s help, hopefully the boy will live and function again.
If that isn’t a miracle I never heard of one.

The view from the mountain is wondrous.

Jean Brody is a passionate animal lover and mother. She previously lived in Winchester, but now resides in Littleton, Colorado. Her column has appeared in The Sun for more than 25 years.