Searing, white-hot pain shoots though my left leg. Then, there’s a blinding flash of light, followed by another. Almost immediately in the right leg I get a second jolt. As I am falling I hear a voice say clearly, firmly, and only once, in a conversational voice: “Trust me!”
I am lying there on the floor at the side entrance to Immaculate Conception Church on Easter Sunday in my festive vestments ready for the 9 am Mass but unable to move my lower legs at all.
At the same time I am experiencing clarity and a kind of serenity in my pain.
In the E.R., the orthopedist studies images of my legs and announces that I have bilateral ruptures of the quadriceps tendons. He’ll operate the next day and he sounds happy about it. Most orthopedists never see complete ruptures of quadriceps tendons, much less a bilateral presentation; he is getting a chance to shine.
The direction of my life has now changed. My plans disappear replaced by prospects of a long rehabilitation. All I know is that I cannot walk any more and without the surgery I would never walk again. The attachments of my muscles to my lower legs are ruptured and I can see a step-off just above both knees where the tendons used to attach.
My mother used to say that when God was handing out patience, I was behind the door. I must say that I haven’t had much patience with this healing process at times. Things lie on the floor where they were dropped because I can’t bend down to pick them up anymore. Why the h-ll did I drop that envelope, fork ..?
It’s three years since the accident and I am walking unsteadily, but walking. Sometimes I don’t even need a cane. Often I think of that voice, “Trust me!” It’s a promise and a prayer that asks for my assent. It is the clearest sign of the presence of God that I have ever experienced.
It is dawning on me, that the words I heard that day were not meant only for this incident in my life but for every incident, every day. It is hard to trust God –much less anyone. He wants me to trust Him every time I fall spiritually or physically that he will be beside me to help me up. He wants me to trust him that I can and will get up.
Fifty years ago, at my ordination ceremony I handed out a keep-sake card to my family and friends. It was an opportunity to be gracious to those who had helped me along the path to the priesthood. I remember a particular phrase on that card where I thanked God that He helped me when I stumbled along on the way to ordination. I still seek His path and will walk with Him, even if I have to limp along.
“From behind you, a voice shall sound in your ears: ‘This is the way, walk in it,’ when you would walk to the right or the left.”
(Isaiah 30, some verse after 18).