Shriner Hospitals a Shrine of Mircles

“A Shrine of Miracles”

by Noble Robert W. Pinkerton (Zenobia Shriners, Northwest Ohio), (1925-1994), courtesy of Masonic Poets Society.

I’d like to tell a story

It’s a happy episode

of a miracle that happened

to a family down the road.

They lived a block or two away.

It doesn’t matter where.

A man, his wife, and three young kids

with one in a wheelchair.

They’d go for walks and wave to us.

We’d smile and say “Hello.”

Why one was in a wheelchair,

for years, we did not know.

Another neighbour said the boy

was born with bones deformed.

They took him to a clinic where

some tests had been performed.

The doctors who examined him

said, “There are indications,

your boy may some day walk if he

has certain operations.”

Said one who diagnosed him

when the boy was only four,

“It may cost ninety thousand,

if we help him...maybe more.”

When they were told about the cost,

they knew it couldn’t be.

Those people struggled just to feed

and clothe their family.

“Why, it would take a miracle,”

said his father, “Who could spend

the money for such treatments,

that would cause his bones to mend?”

“Our hopes were all for nothing,”

cried his mother in despair,

“It looks like he will spend his life

inside that old wheelchair.”

Now a man his father worked with

was a member of the Shrine.

He said, “We’d like to help him,

And it won’t cost you a dime.”

“The hospitals,” he told him,

“that the Shriners operate,

are well equipped and proven;

So, why don’t we set a date?”

Within a month their child

was examined and accepted,

then sent for consultation

where the Shriners were connected.

With surgery and treatments

and the many years of care,

the best of specialists worked with

the famous doctors there.

His every cost was paid for;

his meals and transportation,

as well as for his parents,

there were free accommodations.

Today, that boy is seventeen.

Ten years of therapy

and at the cost of Shriners,

he now walks like you and me.

He plays with kids outside our door.

He runs and rides his bike.

I’m awed as I remember what

before, his life was like.

And he’s just one of thousands

of that burned or crippled hoard

of children who need treatments

their parents can’t afford.

The Shriners gave a new life

to this crippled boy, but then,

I know it was a miracle

from G-d through hands of men.

I’ve always known that Shriners

seemed to have a lot of fun,

but I had never realized

the noble work they’ve done.

And since I was a witness

to this miracle divine,

I pray each night for blessings

on this boy … and on the Shrine.