Korea on fire from today’s bombing – photograph from CNN.com
This morning, while dreaming of some intense situations, I received a message of sorts without words from the heart-friend who dreams inside of me: “Time is generous but time is short.” Somewhat startled, I woke up, it had my attention.
Inspired to be focused and hard-working, I did my chores, wished my daughter, Mignon, a happy birthday, and checked the news. The fighting between North Korea and South Korea inspired me to draw upon the You-Are-Who-Are prayer which brought many more things into focus for me. It was also the anniversary of an important experience in my life (the Tuesday before Thanksgiving).
On that Tuesday and I was quite young, attending the Pontifical College Josephinum, a college seminary, located in Worthington, Ohio. The Thanksgiving break was just beginning and most students were going to their homes or visiting friends away from the college. The dorm hall was filled with the thrills of newfound freedom and adventure. There were, however, a few students, like myself who were staying at the college. By the time 5 o’clock rolled around, it was much quieter, and I was looking forward to some quiet time. As the noises began to cease with the last of the holiday-bound students, I began to connect, ponder, pray, …
A thought struck me hard: here at my college I knew people who not only spoke of unselfish love theoretically but who in their daily lives loved others unselfishly. I knew of course that there were many other people in my life who also loved unselfishly, but until coming to this college I had simply failed to see it. I thought of the difference that love makes and was overcome with a sense of awe and gratitude toward God, our All in All. An aspiration welled up in me, “Lord, I am so grateful for this, that I am willing to suffer for you.” Right away, I began to sense that God was coming. I was somewhat scared not knowing what to expect. “Knock, knock, knock.” Someone was knocking at my door. What terrible timing, I was very disappointed that my experience with God was being interrupted. Reluctantly I went to the door.
Two great friends of mine were at the door. They wanted to go bowling. I told them that I didn’t want to go, but they continued to cajole me. Because the college’s bowling alley was manually operated, it took at least three to bowl. Two or more would play while another managed the pins in the back. I named four other students who were staying, but my two friends replied that they had already asked them. I had my doubts about that, but I knew too that those others were not much into sports and were unlikely to go bowling regardless. So grudgingly I agreed to go bowl with my friends for a short while.
At the alley, we decided that my friends would bowl the first game, and I would go to the back. Some frames into the game, I consoled myself with the thought that everything was going fine, and that I would be able to return to my dorm room soon. Once again the ball came crashing through the pins and I jumped down into the pit and placed the bowling ball on the return ramp above me and bent down to pick up the fallen pins. Without warning the bowling ball struck me in the head. It had fallen off the ramp. Though I passed out, I was still standing with my head bowed down close to floor when I began dizzily regaining some consciousness. I knew where I was and what had happened, but my sight was not focused and I was in intense pain. I knew that I had a fairly serious head injury and that I needed to go back to my room.
Without saying a word to my friends, I walked out of the alley. My friends tried to speak to me as I passed by but my mind was swimming and their words sounded completely garbled. I knew I had a concussion; one worse than the one I had when I was 12 years old. The dorm was close and I walked to it without problems. Once in the dorm, I began to climb the steps to my room and I think I may have fell down the steps but I am not sure. When I reached my room, I was trying to settle myself but there were new knocks at my door. I could hardly think at this moment but I opened the door. It was my friends who had no idea what had happened, much less how much I was hurt or how much pain I was in. They really wanted me to go back to the alley, and I was doing a poor job of explaining that that was impossible. At one point, I said something like I just want to pray, and one of my friends complained that I was trying to be “a saint or something.” Not realizing the seriousness of the situation and joking around he slapped me in the face. It was gentle I’m certain but the pain that I felt was nearly unbearable, tears exploded from eyes, and every curse word I had ever said wanted to unleash itself on them but I remained silent. Right away they understood something of the situation, backed up, and left my room.
Immediately, I went to my bed, took a deep breath, and for the first time since being struck by the bowling ball remembered that I had just prayed, “Lord, I am so grateful for this [seeing that human beings can love unselfishly], that I am willing to suffer for you.” I was floored. God had indeed come and answered my prayer. I just had not recognized God’s knock and presence. I realized then that I really should be praying. I knew that my suffering had meaning and let myself enter it.
Not having any idea how to begin, I began to pray the rosary (a traditional Catholic Christian prayer of meditation). It was Tuesday, which meant meditating on the sorrowful mysteries: the agony in the garden, the whipping at the pillar, the crowing of thorns, the carrying of the cross, and the crucifixion. Being in such pain, it was not difficult to identify with Jesus. While considering the mysteries silently, I was praying the rote prayers aloud, and at some point early on, I began to notice that as I was saying the words to the prayers, I was hearing myself utter a lot of non-sensible syllables. As the strange sounds continued, I began to notice some bits of meaning and even some phrases here and there: suffering … survivors … darkness … fires … a mountain … As the hours went by, I began to see visions too: people suffering and crying out in pain, fires across a very dark mountainside, large and small pieces of wreckage, … I began to realize that I was joining and witnessing the aftermath of a plane that had crashed into a mountain. Words and images continued to confirm this interpretation. In a very striking image, I saw a suffering yet peace-filled woman with hands out-stretched in praise and in prayer to God. I felt one with the people in the crash and I knew that God wanted me to join my suffering with them, be with them, and pray for them. Eventually, after several hours, I went to sleep.
Early the next morning, I was anxious to hear more about the crash, but when I checked the news, there was no news of a plane crash. I found that very strange; the experience had been so real, surely such an event would have made the news. My head was hurting, but I was able to do things slowly and carefully, so I went to breakfast. There were only a couple of people in the cafeteria, I asked, but no one had heard of the plane crash. I continued to check the news each hour throughout the day. At 2:00 P.M. there was still no news, but at 3:00 P.M. on the radio, I heard something like the following:
There was a plane crash last night in Virginia. The plane had departed from Ohio and was en route to Washington, D.C. The plane was flying in dense fog and the pilot did not see the mountain in front of it. So the plane crashed into the mountain without warning. The reason this was not announced earlier is because the crash occurred at a site of a secret White House used in the event of a nuclear war.
Upon hearing this news on the radio, I was satisfied knowing that I had prayed for these people in the crash when few others knew of their suffering.
After several months my head healed up.
After a few years, I had told a dozen or so people about the experience. Each time I related the story, the people responded to the effect, “Oh yeah, I remember that.”
In later years deeper dimensions of this experience have emerged – realizations that have floored and dumbfounded me – realizations about suffering, revolutions of the heart, hope, unselfish love, healing, blessings, victory, and thanksgiving.
Please stay tuned. Thanks …
“Time is generous but time is short.”
