Pete’s wife’s call came into the 911 office. It was a busy morning with many accident calls.
The dispatcher’s first task was to figure out who to call. The driver’s license said the boy was 18. He probably went to high school. Since he was headed north, it was likely Neosho High School. So the dispatcher handed the name over to a tech, Mary Jo, to look up Neosho High’s phone number.
Arif generally goes by his middle name. Of course, his license had his legal name: Joseph A. Marshall. Mary Jo looked at the name and it rang a bell. Suddenly she knew it:
“His family goes to my church. He doesn’t go to Neosho High. He goes to Crowder College. I see him there when I go to my classes. Contact the boy’s father. His mother does not drive and would have no way to get there. Joe works at Wal Mart as a programmer.”
The dispatcher’s wife worked at Wal Mart, too. The dispatcher called her to find Joe’s extension at Wal Mart. In short order, the contact was made.
By 8:15 Joe headed north to Goodman. It would take a good forty five minutes to get there.
The dispatcher also contacted Crowder College.
By 11:00 it seemed the whole campus was in deep heartfelt prayer. It amazed us all how many on campus knew Arif, and how deeply they felt the loss.
All this time, the dispatcher was set to the task of getting proper equipment to the accident site. Goodman police were already on the scene. The Jaws of Life were called into action. Forty five minutes after they arrived, the hole was large enough to remove the contents of the car.
Finding transport was another issue. They determined early on that a helicopter was needed, but none could be found. They were all busy.
Miraculously, just as the Jaws finished their job, St. John’s helicopter landed at the site.
God was gracious to send him to St. John's. It is one of the best hospitals in the state. He got the best of care. In addition, Joe and I had the comfort of its beautiful chapel and a daily – sometimes several times a day – the chance to sit in the Presence of Our Lord in the Blessed Sacrament.
The boy was unconscious. The left side of his body was extensively damaged – it was probably crushed. There was doubt whether he would make it to the hospital. But the task was to transport him.
Soon after the helicopter took off, Joe arrived at the scene.
The left side of Arif’s car was crushed, plus the effects of the Jaws of Life. When Joe saw the car, he could not imagine how anything could have come out of it alive.
Steve wrapped a big hug around Joe and described what happened. Joe barely comprehended, but he appreciated Steve’s warmhearted zest.
The back axle of Steve’s trailer was seriously bent, requiring Steve to spend the day in Goodman waiting for the trucking company to send a tow truck. He holed up at Dari Twist, the only diner in town.
The diner, next to the gas station, was owned by the McCulleys. They were members of our home school group and also good friends. Arif bought the Oldsmobile Toronado Trofeo from them. If he had been in his S-10, the outcome would have been much different. We gave the S-10 to a woman who had no vehicle while he was in England the previous semester.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Chapter 3, Part 3: Last Box of Toothpicks
Apparently, Arif headed for school but forgot his last box of industrial strength toothpicks. You know, the ones that hold up the eyelids when they feel like they are made of lead. After he stopped for gas in Anderson, he struggled to keep his eyes open. The driver who followed him from Anderson to Goodman said that he had trouble keeping on track. It was obvious he was fighting falling asleep.
At 7:45, in Goodman entering the 60-mile-an-hour speed zone, Arif lost the battle and fell sound asleep. The truck driver, Steve, later related that he could see Arif's face as he approached heading the opposite way. There was no reaction. Steve knew that Arif was asleep at the wheel. It took a lot of prayer and all the concentration he could muster as Steve attempted to keep his load – 47000 pounds of steel pipe – in balance. With heroic effort, Steve kept an eye on Arif, the traffic behind Arif, and the traffic behind his own rig, earnestly praying that none of them would get hurt and that his load would not dump. Steve eased his truck onto the shoulder. Thank God there was more shoulder than often is the case in these parts. Steve’s prayers paid off, too – mostly. With all those eyes, the guardian angels on duty must have been cherubim because no one but Arif and the back of the truck were involved in the crash. Arif’s car hit the very back wheel of Steve’s trailer and bounced off. Joe later estimated that the impact was equivalent to traveling at 120 miles an hour.
Pete, a teacher residing in Goodman, spoke of hearing what sounded like an explosion. He ran from his house to see Arif's car spinning across the road, coming to rest on the right shoulder. Apparently, Arif's Toronado bounced off the back wheel of the trailer with enough force to bend the axle and pop the tire. Thank God he had just purchased the Toranado from some friends. He might have fared even worse had he been in the S10.
As his wife dashed back to the house to call 911, Pete walked to Arif's window to talk to him, and to keep anyone else away:
"What is your name?"
"Arif Marshall"
"How old are you?"
"18."
"What does your father do?"
"A ... tea ... cher....."
He could get no more response from Arif.
At 7:45, in Goodman entering the 60-mile-an-hour speed zone, Arif lost the battle and fell sound asleep. The truck driver, Steve, later related that he could see Arif's face as he approached heading the opposite way. There was no reaction. Steve knew that Arif was asleep at the wheel. It took a lot of prayer and all the concentration he could muster as Steve attempted to keep his load – 47000 pounds of steel pipe – in balance. With heroic effort, Steve kept an eye on Arif, the traffic behind Arif, and the traffic behind his own rig, earnestly praying that none of them would get hurt and that his load would not dump. Steve eased his truck onto the shoulder. Thank God there was more shoulder than often is the case in these parts. Steve’s prayers paid off, too – mostly. With all those eyes, the guardian angels on duty must have been cherubim because no one but Arif and the back of the truck were involved in the crash. Arif’s car hit the very back wheel of Steve’s trailer and bounced off. Joe later estimated that the impact was equivalent to traveling at 120 miles an hour.
Pete, a teacher residing in Goodman, spoke of hearing what sounded like an explosion. He ran from his house to see Arif's car spinning across the road, coming to rest on the right shoulder. Apparently, Arif's Toronado bounced off the back wheel of the trailer with enough force to bend the axle and pop the tire. Thank God he had just purchased the Toranado from some friends. He might have fared even worse had he been in the S10.
As his wife dashed back to the house to call 911, Pete walked to Arif's window to talk to him, and to keep anyone else away:
"What is your name?"
"Arif Marshall"
"How old are you?"
"18."
"What does your father do?"
"A ... tea ... cher....."
He could get no more response from Arif.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Chapter 3, Part 2: Our New Home
Arif was brought up to the third floor by the back way. We were instructed to go to the ICU waiting room until they got him settled in his room. It was time to settle into what would become our new home.
Visiting hours were posted at the entrance to the waiting room - 9 AM, 1, 5, and 8 PM for an hour each time. The doors to the ICU wing were closed and locked the rest of the day. Hospital personnel came and went, punching in a code on a keypad on the wall next to the waiting room door. A phone without buttons hung next to the keypad.
The ICU waiting room was bright, but stark. The floor looked to be a shiny oak laminate. Wooden chairs with blue padded seats lined the beige walls. A dozen chairs sat in three neat lines to the left as we entered. A small, dark table lay between the two rows which faced each other. People of all descriptions slumped sleepily, read magazines, or fidgeted nervously in the chairs. An empty table stood in front of the only window in the far right corner. The television hung in the upper left corner, droning the current soap opera. A pay phone adorned the center of the wall to the right. Next to the phone hung a sign and a white board. The sign asked people to respect others’ needs and limit calls to fifteen minutes. On the other side of the phone, the white board had blanks for names, and columns to mark whether they were ‘in’ or ‘out.’ On the table under that phone perched an off-white hospital phone with half a dozen buttons.
The three of us wandered into the room and found seats together near the window, with a lovely view of the parking lot.
We sat down, feeling dazed. No words came to express what each was thinking and feeling.
We waited outside of time. Was it a few minutes, or several hours? There was no counting of time as we were accustomed to its passing.
A man entered, inquiring for the Marshalls. Was he bringing news of Arif? He was not dressed like a doctor, but wore a dark suit.
“We are here.” Joe responded, standing up.
“I am Ed Hahn, hospital chaplain.” He extended his hand.
“Like Scott Hahn?” Joe responded. “He is one of our favorite speakers. Are you related?”
“No, not as far as I know. ... I was told you were here. I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I am available if you want to talk to someone. My office is on the second floor if you need me. But I am not there very much. Here is my card. Call my office and someone can page me if you need to get in touch with me.”
Then he was gone.
The phone on the table rang. Someone picked it up.
“Is there anyone named Marshall here? ... It’s for you.” She handed the phone to Joe.
It was one of Arif’s friends from Crowder College. News had spread quickly about Arif’s accident. By eleven o’clock, it seemed everyone on campus knew about it and was praying for him. There was a somber air on campus. A blood drive was scheduled on Friday. People were planning to give blood on Arif’s behalf.
Joe told her: “We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.”
We were assured of many prayers. Could they come up to see Arif?
Joe told them of visiting hours, but that we did not know, yet if people could see him. But they were welcome to come and visit, even if it was just with us.
A friend, another Mary, came in. She rushed over and threw big hugs around each of us.
“My daughter called and told me she was called for the home school group prayer chain. She said Arif was in an accident.”
“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe responded. He became our spokesman a good bit of the time.
Mary continued: “I go to eleven o’clock Mass here, so I thought I would bring you something to eat. I know you like to eat healthy, so I got these from Panera. They have a lovely chapel here. You should go on down there sometime.”
“Thank you. What a wonderful surprise. We had not even thought that we might be hungry. The chapel will be one of our next activities, once we find out what is up with Arif.” It was my turn to speak.
After she left, we munched on sandwiches. They were satisfying and we were touched by Mary’s thoughtfulness.
The phone rang again. Someone else from the home school group wanted to know what news there might be.
“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe found that he had a script. “We are waiting to talk with the doctor.”
As the day wore on, amidst the calls of concern, we slowly pieced together the story. What happened after Arif left home that Thursday morning.
Visiting hours were posted at the entrance to the waiting room - 9 AM, 1, 5, and 8 PM for an hour each time. The doors to the ICU wing were closed and locked the rest of the day. Hospital personnel came and went, punching in a code on a keypad on the wall next to the waiting room door. A phone without buttons hung next to the keypad.
The ICU waiting room was bright, but stark. The floor looked to be a shiny oak laminate. Wooden chairs with blue padded seats lined the beige walls. A dozen chairs sat in three neat lines to the left as we entered. A small, dark table lay between the two rows which faced each other. People of all descriptions slumped sleepily, read magazines, or fidgeted nervously in the chairs. An empty table stood in front of the only window in the far right corner. The television hung in the upper left corner, droning the current soap opera. A pay phone adorned the center of the wall to the right. Next to the phone hung a sign and a white board. The sign asked people to respect others’ needs and limit calls to fifteen minutes. On the other side of the phone, the white board had blanks for names, and columns to mark whether they were ‘in’ or ‘out.’ On the table under that phone perched an off-white hospital phone with half a dozen buttons.
The three of us wandered into the room and found seats together near the window, with a lovely view of the parking lot.
We sat down, feeling dazed. No words came to express what each was thinking and feeling.
We waited outside of time. Was it a few minutes, or several hours? There was no counting of time as we were accustomed to its passing.
A man entered, inquiring for the Marshalls. Was he bringing news of Arif? He was not dressed like a doctor, but wore a dark suit.
“We are here.” Joe responded, standing up.
“I am Ed Hahn, hospital chaplain.” He extended his hand.
“Like Scott Hahn?” Joe responded. “He is one of our favorite speakers. Are you related?”
“No, not as far as I know. ... I was told you were here. I just wanted to introduce myself and let you know I am available if you want to talk to someone. My office is on the second floor if you need me. But I am not there very much. Here is my card. Call my office and someone can page me if you need to get in touch with me.”
Then he was gone.
The phone on the table rang. Someone picked it up.
“Is there anyone named Marshall here? ... It’s for you.” She handed the phone to Joe.
It was one of Arif’s friends from Crowder College. News had spread quickly about Arif’s accident. By eleven o’clock, it seemed everyone on campus knew about it and was praying for him. There was a somber air on campus. A blood drive was scheduled on Friday. People were planning to give blood on Arif’s behalf.
Joe told her: “We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.”
We were assured of many prayers. Could they come up to see Arif?
Joe told them of visiting hours, but that we did not know, yet if people could see him. But they were welcome to come and visit, even if it was just with us.
A friend, another Mary, came in. She rushed over and threw big hugs around each of us.
“My daughter called and told me she was called for the home school group prayer chain. She said Arif was in an accident.”
“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe responded. He became our spokesman a good bit of the time.
Mary continued: “I go to eleven o’clock Mass here, so I thought I would bring you something to eat. I know you like to eat healthy, so I got these from Panera. They have a lovely chapel here. You should go on down there sometime.”
“Thank you. What a wonderful surprise. We had not even thought that we might be hungry. The chapel will be one of our next activities, once we find out what is up with Arif.” It was my turn to speak.
After she left, we munched on sandwiches. They were satisfying and we were touched by Mary’s thoughtfulness.
The phone rang again. Someone else from the home school group wanted to know what news there might be.
“We really don’t know much, yet. His leg is broken and he looks pretty beat up. They say he is critical and that there is no brain activity.” Joe found that he had a script. “We are waiting to talk with the doctor.”
As the day wore on, amidst the calls of concern, we slowly pieced together the story. What happened after Arif left home that Thursday morning.
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
On Padre Pio's feast day
Stay With Me, Lord
Padre Pio's Prayer After Holy Communion
Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.
Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life and without You I am without fervor.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light and without You I am in darkness.
Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.
Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.
Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much and always be in Your company.
Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.
Stay with me, Lord, as poor as my soul is I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of Love.
Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close and life passes, death, judgment and eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You. It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows. O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!
Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers, I need You.
Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.
Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by Communion, at least by grace and love.
Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.
With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.
Note:
Padre Pio was declared a saint on Arif's birthday while he was still in a coma. We know a very holy priest who has a deep devotion to St. Pio. So we feel a special closeness to him.
This prayer comes from Cukierski.net
More information on St. Pio can be found at:
Padre Pio Foundation of America
Padre Pio Devotions
National Center for Padre Pio
EWTN
Padre Pio Net
Padre Pio's Prayer After Holy Communion
Stay with me, Lord, for it is necessary to have You present so that I do not forget You. You know how easily I abandon You.
Stay with me, Lord, because I am weak and I need Your strength, that I may not fall so often.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my life and without You I am without fervor.
Stay with me, Lord, for You are my light and without You I am in darkness.
Stay with me, Lord, to show me Your will.
Stay with me, Lord, so that I hear Your voice and follow You.
Stay with me, Lord, for I desire to love You very much and always be in Your company.
Stay with me, Lord, if You wish me to be faithful to You.
Stay with me, Lord, as poor as my soul is I want it to be a place of consolation for You, a nest of Love.
Stay with me, Jesus, for it is getting late and the day is coming to a close and life passes, death, judgment and eternity approaches. It is necessary to renew my strength, so that I will not stop along the way and for that, I need You. It is getting late and death approaches, I fear the darkness, the temptations, the dryness, the cross, the sorrows. O how I need You, my Jesus, in this night of exile!
Stay with me tonight, Jesus, in life with all its dangers, I need You.
Let me recognize You as Your disciples did at the breaking of the bread, so that the Eucharistic Communion be the Light which disperses the darkness, the force which sustains me, the unique joy of my heart.
Stay with me, Lord, because at the hour of my death, I want to remain united to You, if not by Communion, at least by grace and love.
Stay with me, Lord, for it is You alone I look for, Your Love, Your Grace, Your Will, Your Heart, Your Spirit, because I love You and ask no other reward but to love You more and more.
With a firm love, I will love You with all my heart while on earth and continue to love You perfectly during all eternity. Amen.
Note:
Padre Pio was declared a saint on Arif's birthday while he was still in a coma. We know a very holy priest who has a deep devotion to St. Pio. So we feel a special closeness to him.
This prayer comes from Cukierski.net
More information on St. Pio can be found at:
Padre Pio Foundation of America
Padre Pio Devotions
National Center for Padre Pio
EWTN
Padre Pio Net
Tuesday, September 9, 2008
Chapter 3: Finding Out, Part 1: Extent of the Damage
Honnah and I finally arrived at the hospital. We were ushered into a small room off the Emergency waiting room. The cell phone might interfere with some of the monitoring equipment, so we were instructed to turn it off as we entered the hospital.
Of course, Joe was already there, waiting. We shared vital hugs all around.
The two of us were anxious to hear the details. Joe filled us in on what he knew. It was not good news.
Arif was in critical condition. The trauma doctor was evaluating him. They were not saying more than that. We would be allowed to see him when they got him cleaned up.
What do you say to each other at such a time? We sat in stunned silence, holding each others’ hands. Drifting in a fog of distraction, I alternated between staring at the others and staring off in another direction. It was as if the room itself faded from my awareness. I felt as though I was afloat among a mass of nebulous objects and beings.
Tears still did not come. Those who know me find that amazing. I am a crier: I cry when I am happy, sad, disappointed, mad, touched, embarrassed ... pretty much whenever a strong emotion looks in my direction.
Our prayers became desperate. I prayed, as I began in the car: “Lord, You alone have the wisdom to know what is best. Your will be done. Please help us to make the right decisions as they are presented to us."
Our assistant pastor walked in with a somber look on his face.
Fr. Joseph was the first to arrive at the hospital – even before Joe got there. When Fr. Joseph saw Arif, there was such an air of Arif’s impending death that he gave him conditional absolution.
Absolution is the remission of sin, or of the punishment due to sin, granted by the Church. The twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus gave this power to His Apostles and their successors after His resurrection. Absolution is generally conferred during the Sacrament of Penance when a person expresses sorrow for his sin and a resolve to avoid the sin in the future. Conditional absolution is given in case the person has unforgiven sin for which he has repented, but has not had the opportunity to or is not capable of reconciling it (in Arif’s case, he was unconscious, but still alive). Sin is the obstacle to the soul entering heaven. What a comfort we have in the sacraments. Later we would find that was even more significant than we first thought.
We finally got to see Arif. We wanted to hear his cheery voice, looking forward to returning to school the next day. Nothing could prepare us for what we found.
He lay very still on the examination table in one of those fashionable hospital gowns. They had cut off his clothes. Cuts and bruises covered the exposed areas of his body. His left ear lobe had two stitches, holding it to his head. His left arm and leg and his face were quite swollen.
Routine procedure for serious injuries, we were told, is to ‘drop a vent.’ A breathing tube, ventilator, was inserted through Arif’s mouth into his lungs. Looking at the hose protruding from his face brought me back, momentarily, to the final hours of my mother’s life. This was just the beginning of our education in medical terminology and procedures. At this point, we were in no mood or position to question anything. Over the next months and years, we found that certain things are not negotiable, and others must be thoroughly researched.
Assessment determined that his left leg was shattered. Several pictures of his left arm were needed before they were satisfied that it was not broken. The liver was bruised. His right lung was punctured.
It was stated repeatedly that there was no brain activity. It is funny how the meaning of that last statement did not fully sink in until much later.
Arif was admitted to St. John’s Hospital and moved into the Intensive Care Unit.
Of course, Joe was already there, waiting. We shared vital hugs all around.
The two of us were anxious to hear the details. Joe filled us in on what he knew. It was not good news.
Arif was in critical condition. The trauma doctor was evaluating him. They were not saying more than that. We would be allowed to see him when they got him cleaned up.
What do you say to each other at such a time? We sat in stunned silence, holding each others’ hands. Drifting in a fog of distraction, I alternated between staring at the others and staring off in another direction. It was as if the room itself faded from my awareness. I felt as though I was afloat among a mass of nebulous objects and beings.
Tears still did not come. Those who know me find that amazing. I am a crier: I cry when I am happy, sad, disappointed, mad, touched, embarrassed ... pretty much whenever a strong emotion looks in my direction.
Our prayers became desperate. I prayed, as I began in the car: “Lord, You alone have the wisdom to know what is best. Your will be done. Please help us to make the right decisions as they are presented to us."
Our assistant pastor walked in with a somber look on his face.
Fr. Joseph was the first to arrive at the hospital – even before Joe got there. When Fr. Joseph saw Arif, there was such an air of Arif’s impending death that he gave him conditional absolution.
Absolution is the remission of sin, or of the punishment due to sin, granted by the Church. The twentieth chapter of John’s Gospel tells us that Jesus gave this power to His Apostles and their successors after His resurrection. Absolution is generally conferred during the Sacrament of Penance when a person expresses sorrow for his sin and a resolve to avoid the sin in the future. Conditional absolution is given in case the person has unforgiven sin for which he has repented, but has not had the opportunity to or is not capable of reconciling it (in Arif’s case, he was unconscious, but still alive). Sin is the obstacle to the soul entering heaven. What a comfort we have in the sacraments. Later we would find that was even more significant than we first thought.
We finally got to see Arif. We wanted to hear his cheery voice, looking forward to returning to school the next day. Nothing could prepare us for what we found.
He lay very still on the examination table in one of those fashionable hospital gowns. They had cut off his clothes. Cuts and bruises covered the exposed areas of his body. His left ear lobe had two stitches, holding it to his head. His left arm and leg and his face were quite swollen.
Routine procedure for serious injuries, we were told, is to ‘drop a vent.’ A breathing tube, ventilator, was inserted through Arif’s mouth into his lungs. Looking at the hose protruding from his face brought me back, momentarily, to the final hours of my mother’s life. This was just the beginning of our education in medical terminology and procedures. At this point, we were in no mood or position to question anything. Over the next months and years, we found that certain things are not negotiable, and others must be thoroughly researched.
Assessment determined that his left leg was shattered. Several pictures of his left arm were needed before they were satisfied that it was not broken. The liver was bruised. His right lung was punctured.
It was stated repeatedly that there was no brain activity. It is funny how the meaning of that last statement did not fully sink in until much later.
Arif was admitted to St. John’s Hospital and moved into the Intensive Care Unit.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Part 7: A Message
Once we finish contemplating Jesus' Childhood, we fast forward to the heart of His mission in the Sorrowful Mysteries. At this time, we can join with Jesus in His suffering. We can unite our sufferings with His.
The Agony in the Garden is the first Sorrowful Mystery. It calls us to meditate on Jesus’ decision to accept all that He would suffer for the redemption of the world. This mystery always draws me in. I find a particular fascination with it. You might say it is my favorite mystery.
After eating the Passover Supper with His disciples, Jesus brings them to a nearby vineyard called Gethsemani. The group is accustomed to His habit of going off by Himself for prayer as He does on this particular night.
Since Jesus is God, He knows full well what lies ahead for Him in the next day.
One of His closest companions will betray Him with a false show of affection. He will be arrested and tried, against all the rubrics of Hebrew law. The leaders of His Chosen People will subject Him to an illicit and sham trial. They will taunt and mock Him. His own people will hand Him over to foreigners for disposal. The ‘legitimate authority’ will abdicate to the pressures of the crowd. Soldiers will further humiliate and cruelly torture Him. As weak as He is, He will carry the heavy beam of the cross through dirty, dusty streets while the crowds continue to jeer Him, although a few women lament at His treatment. His wounds from the earlier beatings will be renewed as He is stripped naked. He will die in the most cruel way that mankind ever devised.
He also knows the end result of all His efforts. He knows that it is necessary for Him to take on all our sinfulness in order that Heaven be opened for us. He knows that God ultimately wants each of us to spend all of eternity with Him in Heaven. Yet throughout time, many will reject His efforts.
As a human, He feels the same dread we would when faced with such an ordeal.
So our Lord agonizes over choosing the difficult Way for our salvation. Three times He asks God, His Father, to spare Him from the intense pain and suffering. It is such intense agony, that capillaries burst, allowing blood to seep out with His sweat. Each time He prays, He resolves that He wishes, above all, to do God’s will. In the end He accepts the mission as God’s perfect will, and offers no further resistance throughout the entire process.
Meanwhile, His disciples sleep, oblivious to all that their Teacher and their Friend experiences in His prayer time. He wakes them with a warning to watch and pray. Prayer builds strength of spirit to overcome human weakness.
This dramatic story is related through the gospels: in the twenty sixth chapter of Matthew, the fourteenth chapter of Mark, and the twenty second chapter of Luke.
By this time, we finally entered the city limits of Joplin. As we rode along, I began to think about what we might find once we finally arrived at the hospital. He was already gone when Joe got to Goodman. None of us saw Arif after the accident, so we had no idea what injuries he might have. There was no information about his condition. We were directed to St. John’s to find out any information at all.
Auto accidents happen every day. Some people walk away, seemingly unscarred by the event. We could hope for this outcome, but we already knew that was not Arif’s situation, because he went to St. John’s. Some end up with aches and pains, like whiplash or various bumps and bruises. We hoped this was the worst we could expect in Arif’s case, but a mother’s mind continues to review the full range of possibilities. I knew people who needed stitches or surgery after an accident. Others spent time in the hospital with more serious injuries: broken bones, damaged organs, or coma. Some came out with some sort of brain injury. Many times, in my healing ministry, I offered advice for recovery to those who had been devastated by some of the drugs that they became dependent upon. The emergency medical care can be life saving, thank God, but sometimes, the continuing intervention can interfere with the overall health of an individual. We may need a good bit of discernment to make appropriate choices on his care. Of course, the seemingly worst case scenario would be death.
Since I have a Master’s Degree in special education, I have seen the full range of human functioning. Many people I have worked with were severely limited either physically or cognitively. I knew that these outcomes would be extremely difficult for my family, especially Joe. The impact on my other four children could also be devastating. I prayed for all of them and Joe to be able to cope with whatever the outcome might be.
I had no idea what to pray. I know that God has wisdom and insight that are way beyond mine. He would know what was best for us all. I prayed and hoped against hope that he would not be allowed to live with such serious injuries that he would not be able to fulfill his hopes and dreams. But in the end, my prayer resolved: “Lord, You alone have the wisdom. Your will be done.” It was the only prayer I could bring myself to pray for days. I didn’t even know if I would be able to handle any number of the possible outcomes.
At this point, I was given a message: “You have everything you need to deal with this situation.”
It was not a voice, it was just a sense of resolve. Although I had no idea what it meant, I knew it was sent as a comfort.
I did not have much time to ponder. Jo’s cell phone rang.
How does this contraption work?
It was Mary, a Founding Mother of our home school group.
Jo called her asking for prayers. Her family felt close to Arif as he helped them move the previous summer. She wanted to make sure we knew that her family was praying for Arif. If there was anything we needed, be sure to let them know.
I filed that away for later. Who knew what we might need later.
By the time I finished talking with Mary, we arrived at the hospital. We would finish the Rosary later. When we had some idea of what we were praying for, there would be ample opportunity to follow Christ through His Passion and Death, and hopefully be able to rejoice in His Resurrection.
Meanwhile, our only – our best – prayer was: “Thy will be done!”
The Agony in the Garden is the first Sorrowful Mystery. It calls us to meditate on Jesus’ decision to accept all that He would suffer for the redemption of the world. This mystery always draws me in. I find a particular fascination with it. You might say it is my favorite mystery.
After eating the Passover Supper with His disciples, Jesus brings them to a nearby vineyard called Gethsemani. The group is accustomed to His habit of going off by Himself for prayer as He does on this particular night.
Since Jesus is God, He knows full well what lies ahead for Him in the next day.
One of His closest companions will betray Him with a false show of affection. He will be arrested and tried, against all the rubrics of Hebrew law. The leaders of His Chosen People will subject Him to an illicit and sham trial. They will taunt and mock Him. His own people will hand Him over to foreigners for disposal. The ‘legitimate authority’ will abdicate to the pressures of the crowd. Soldiers will further humiliate and cruelly torture Him. As weak as He is, He will carry the heavy beam of the cross through dirty, dusty streets while the crowds continue to jeer Him, although a few women lament at His treatment. His wounds from the earlier beatings will be renewed as He is stripped naked. He will die in the most cruel way that mankind ever devised.
He also knows the end result of all His efforts. He knows that it is necessary for Him to take on all our sinfulness in order that Heaven be opened for us. He knows that God ultimately wants each of us to spend all of eternity with Him in Heaven. Yet throughout time, many will reject His efforts.
As a human, He feels the same dread we would when faced with such an ordeal.
So our Lord agonizes over choosing the difficult Way for our salvation. Three times He asks God, His Father, to spare Him from the intense pain and suffering. It is such intense agony, that capillaries burst, allowing blood to seep out with His sweat. Each time He prays, He resolves that He wishes, above all, to do God’s will. In the end He accepts the mission as God’s perfect will, and offers no further resistance throughout the entire process.
Meanwhile, His disciples sleep, oblivious to all that their Teacher and their Friend experiences in His prayer time. He wakes them with a warning to watch and pray. Prayer builds strength of spirit to overcome human weakness.
This dramatic story is related through the gospels: in the twenty sixth chapter of Matthew, the fourteenth chapter of Mark, and the twenty second chapter of Luke.
By this time, we finally entered the city limits of Joplin. As we rode along, I began to think about what we might find once we finally arrived at the hospital. He was already gone when Joe got to Goodman. None of us saw Arif after the accident, so we had no idea what injuries he might have. There was no information about his condition. We were directed to St. John’s to find out any information at all.
Auto accidents happen every day. Some people walk away, seemingly unscarred by the event. We could hope for this outcome, but we already knew that was not Arif’s situation, because he went to St. John’s. Some end up with aches and pains, like whiplash or various bumps and bruises. We hoped this was the worst we could expect in Arif’s case, but a mother’s mind continues to review the full range of possibilities. I knew people who needed stitches or surgery after an accident. Others spent time in the hospital with more serious injuries: broken bones, damaged organs, or coma. Some came out with some sort of brain injury. Many times, in my healing ministry, I offered advice for recovery to those who had been devastated by some of the drugs that they became dependent upon. The emergency medical care can be life saving, thank God, but sometimes, the continuing intervention can interfere with the overall health of an individual. We may need a good bit of discernment to make appropriate choices on his care. Of course, the seemingly worst case scenario would be death.
Since I have a Master’s Degree in special education, I have seen the full range of human functioning. Many people I have worked with were severely limited either physically or cognitively. I knew that these outcomes would be extremely difficult for my family, especially Joe. The impact on my other four children could also be devastating. I prayed for all of them and Joe to be able to cope with whatever the outcome might be.
I had no idea what to pray. I know that God has wisdom and insight that are way beyond mine. He would know what was best for us all. I prayed and hoped against hope that he would not be allowed to live with such serious injuries that he would not be able to fulfill his hopes and dreams. But in the end, my prayer resolved: “Lord, You alone have the wisdom. Your will be done.” It was the only prayer I could bring myself to pray for days. I didn’t even know if I would be able to handle any number of the possible outcomes.
At this point, I was given a message: “You have everything you need to deal with this situation.”
It was not a voice, it was just a sense of resolve. Although I had no idea what it meant, I knew it was sent as a comfort.
I did not have much time to ponder. Jo’s cell phone rang.
How does this contraption work?
It was Mary, a Founding Mother of our home school group.
Jo called her asking for prayers. Her family felt close to Arif as he helped them move the previous summer. She wanted to make sure we knew that her family was praying for Arif. If there was anything we needed, be sure to let them know.
I filed that away for later. Who knew what we might need later.
By the time I finished talking with Mary, we arrived at the hospital. We would finish the Rosary later. When we had some idea of what we were praying for, there would be ample opportunity to follow Christ through His Passion and Death, and hopefully be able to rejoice in His Resurrection.
Meanwhile, our only – our best – prayer was: “Thy will be done!”
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Part 6: Wisdom Beyond His Years
The fifth joyful event, from Jesus’ Childhood, brings us to meditation on His parents finding Jesus in the Temple after searching for Him for three days:
Each year, the Holy Family takes a trip to Jerusalem to celebrate the High Holy Days of the Passover. Their extended family and the people from their village go in a caravan.
When Jesus is 12 years old, they make the trip as usual. However, after traveling for a day on the trip home, His parents realize that Jesus is not with the group.
Imagine the panic that seizes them. They return to Jerusalem, looking everywhere for Him.
On the third day of their search, they find Him in the Temple. He is calmly and patiently speaking with the elders and the teachers. These holy, learned men are amazed at the Boy’s wisdom and knowledge. He asks them questions which lead them to think about the subject they know so well in an entirely different way.
In that day, a boy was considered a man when he reached twelve years old. He began training in earnest for his career, often apprenticing with a family member.
Jesus’ response, when His mother chides Him for causing so much worry, logically explains that this place – the Temple in Jerusalem – provides the background for His future mission. She probably recalls the message of Simeon.
Then, He returns home with them to fulfill His place in His family as an obedient and dutiful son.
The second chapter of St. Luke’s Gospel relates this story, and tells us that Mary pondered the events of His life. For this reason, we reflect with love on the mysteries and the details that the Bible gives us about the life of our Savior.
There was no question that Arif, and any other children we were graced with, would be brought up with faith in God.
One of the benefits of home schooling is that we can carry God throughout the curriculum. Arif and all his siblings were taught about their faith from their earliest years. We tried to instill in them a sense that they were created by God for a purpose. They each have a unique calling to do something that God planned for them from the very beginning.
Arif seemed to enjoy being in church and at Mass even when he was very small. At the Consecration, the highest point of the Mass, I directed his attention to the altar as soon as he was aware enough. He ooh-ed and ahh-ed. Later, he described ‘sparkles’ around the bread and wine at that moment.
As toddlers are wont to do, he got squirrelly after a certain time in the pew. I took him out of church and explained that he could go back in as soon as he calmed down. He calmed quickly and soon asked to return to the service. We only observed this ritual a handful of times.
Mom encouraged us to teach Arif his prayers starting quite young.
We moved to Virginia, Arif was 3.
The first time we attended our new church was Christmas Eve. The children were invited to come forward for the ‘children’s homily.’ Arif trotted right up there and plopped right into Father’s lap.
“Well, hello there! What is your name?” Father queried.
“Arif.” came the reply.
“Well hello, Reese.”
“No, Father, it is Arif: A, R, I, F.”
“Very well, then. Do you know what holiday comes tomorrow?”
“Yeah! It’s Christmas. It is Jesus’ birthday! Happy birthday to you....”
The parish offered ‘children’s church,’ taking the children into a classroom during the Bible readings and homily to instruct them at their developmental level. One day the following spring, the teacher of the preschool group called in the pastor. One of her pupils already knew the Lord’s Prayer. You guessed it. That child was Arif.
I never taught any of my children to read. They learned to read the same way they learned to talk. We read to them from the time they were babies. When they were ready, they picked up a book and read to themselves. Only then did I undertake to teach them phonics.
Joe read bedtime stories every night. As children were added to his audience, he read one story for each child. We used to tease him about getting taller: by the time Arif was in school, Joe was a ‘four story Papa.’
At a certain point, Joe switched to chapter books. His first venture was The Witch, the Lion, and the Wardrobe, first in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia series. Arif grew impatient with stopping at the end of each chapter, so picked up the book during the day to read on his own. He was seven at the time.
“So, do I need to skip ahead to where you read?” Papa inquired.
“No, it’s all right. I don’t mind hearing the story again.”
Arif decided, when he was eight years old, to read through the Bible. Several months later, he announced that he accomplished his goal.
When Arif was in fifth grade, I tired of fighting him to do writing assignments. So I hit upon the idea that he publish a newsletter. He loved telling stories and sharing what he knew about his faith.
For almost three years, he and his siblings put together “The Mustard Seed Press.” We built a subscription base of about a hundred and twenty five. The addresses on our list included not only people from thirty four states, but three foreign countries as well. One was a missionary in South America who visited our prayer group, read the Mustard Seed, and wanted to see more of it.
Our prayer group leaders, the Buttaccios, published a newsletter with a circulation of over two thousand. When they saw the first few issues of “The Mustard Seed Press,” they felt it would be a harmonious addition to their publication.
We received accolades from our subscribers. A number of people wrote to us requesting permission to use Arif’s writings in Sunday School classes.
The diocese of Knoxville planned a trip to Paris for World Youth Day. Those who were too young to go petitioned the bishop to make some concessions. The bishop organized a trip to Rome and Assisi for them. Arif was 13. His heart was set on going. We scraped, begged, and did fund raisers to make it possible.
The trip was all he hoped for and more. Arif admired St. Francis from the time he first heard of him. As it turned out, two weeks after the trip. Assisi was hit by a devastating earthquake which ravaged St. Francis’ church. Arif felt he was blessed to be there before the destruction.
On Wednesdays, the pope gives a general audience. He stands on a balcony overlooking St. Peter’s Square. Pope John Paul II used these sessions to teach key concepts about the Bible and about the Christian life.
After the general audience, our bishop arranged for the youth to meet the pope on the steps of St. Peter’s Cathedral. The youngsters and their chaperones lined up for the greetings. The pope shook hands with each one of them.
Pope John Paul II gave Arif special attention by touching him on the cheek after the handshake.
At first we figured that he recognized Arif’s Polish heritage. Perhaps the holy man we called ‘Papa’ knew Arif would be in need of special graces.
I prayed again that each person who came into contact with Arif, in whatever lay ahead, be drawn closer to God. It was something I knew Arif would want as well.
Each year, the Holy Family takes a trip to Jerusalem to celebrate the High Holy Days of the Passover. Their extended family and the people from their village go in a caravan.
When Jesus is 12 years old, they make the trip as usual. However, after traveling for a day on the trip home, His parents realize that Jesus is not with the group.
Imagine the panic that seizes them. They return to Jerusalem, looking everywhere for Him.
On the third day of their search, they find Him in the Temple. He is calmly and patiently speaking with the elders and the teachers. These holy, learned men are amazed at the Boy’s wisdom and knowledge. He asks them questions which lead them to think about the subject they know so well in an entirely different way.
In that day, a boy was considered a man when he reached twelve years old. He began training in earnest for his career, often apprenticing with a family member.
Jesus’ response, when His mother chides Him for causing so much worry, logically explains that this place – the Temple in Jerusalem – provides the background for His future mission. She probably recalls the message of Simeon.
Then, He returns home with them to fulfill His place in His family as an obedient and dutiful son.
The second chapter of St. Luke’s Gospel relates this story, and tells us that Mary pondered the events of His life. For this reason, we reflect with love on the mysteries and the details that the Bible gives us about the life of our Savior.
There was no question that Arif, and any other children we were graced with, would be brought up with faith in God.
One of the benefits of home schooling is that we can carry God throughout the curriculum. Arif and all his siblings were taught about their faith from their earliest years. We tried to instill in them a sense that they were created by God for a purpose. They each have a unique calling to do something that God planned for them from the very beginning.
Arif seemed to enjoy being in church and at Mass even when he was very small. At the Consecration, the highest point of the Mass, I directed his attention to the altar as soon as he was aware enough. He ooh-ed and ahh-ed. Later, he described ‘sparkles’ around the bread and wine at that moment.
As toddlers are wont to do, he got squirrelly after a certain time in the pew. I took him out of church and explained that he could go back in as soon as he calmed down. He calmed quickly and soon asked to return to the service. We only observed this ritual a handful of times.
Mom encouraged us to teach Arif his prayers starting quite young.
We moved to Virginia, Arif was 3.
The first time we attended our new church was Christmas Eve. The children were invited to come forward for the ‘children’s homily.’ Arif trotted right up there and plopped right into Father’s lap.
“Well, hello there! What is your name?” Father queried.
“Arif.” came the reply.
“Well hello, Reese.”
“No, Father, it is Arif: A, R, I, F.”
“Very well, then. Do you know what holiday comes tomorrow?”
“Yeah! It’s Christmas. It is Jesus’ birthday! Happy birthday to you....”
The parish offered ‘children’s church,’ taking the children into a classroom during the Bible readings and homily to instruct them at their developmental level. One day the following spring, the teacher of the preschool group called in the pastor. One of her pupils already knew the Lord’s Prayer. You guessed it. That child was Arif.
I never taught any of my children to read. They learned to read the same way they learned to talk. We read to them from the time they were babies. When they were ready, they picked up a book and read to themselves. Only then did I undertake to teach them phonics.
Joe read bedtime stories every night. As children were added to his audience, he read one story for each child. We used to tease him about getting taller: by the time Arif was in school, Joe was a ‘four story Papa.’
At a certain point, Joe switched to chapter books. His first venture was The Witch, the Lion, and the Wardrobe, first in C. S. Lewis’ Narnia series. Arif grew impatient with stopping at the end of each chapter, so picked up the book during the day to read on his own. He was seven at the time.
“So, do I need to skip ahead to where you read?” Papa inquired.
“No, it’s all right. I don’t mind hearing the story again.”
Arif decided, when he was eight years old, to read through the Bible. Several months later, he announced that he accomplished his goal.
When Arif was in fifth grade, I tired of fighting him to do writing assignments. So I hit upon the idea that he publish a newsletter. He loved telling stories and sharing what he knew about his faith.
For almost three years, he and his siblings put together “The Mustard Seed Press.” We built a subscription base of about a hundred and twenty five. The addresses on our list included not only people from thirty four states, but three foreign countries as well. One was a missionary in South America who visited our prayer group, read the Mustard Seed, and wanted to see more of it.
Our prayer group leaders, the Buttaccios, published a newsletter with a circulation of over two thousand. When they saw the first few issues of “The Mustard Seed Press,” they felt it would be a harmonious addition to their publication.
We received accolades from our subscribers. A number of people wrote to us requesting permission to use Arif’s writings in Sunday School classes.
The diocese of Knoxville planned a trip to Paris for World Youth Day. Those who were too young to go petitioned the bishop to make some concessions. The bishop organized a trip to Rome and Assisi for them. Arif was 13. His heart was set on going. We scraped, begged, and did fund raisers to make it possible.
The trip was all he hoped for and more. Arif admired St. Francis from the time he first heard of him. As it turned out, two weeks after the trip. Assisi was hit by a devastating earthquake which ravaged St. Francis’ church. Arif felt he was blessed to be there before the destruction.
On Wednesdays, the pope gives a general audience. He stands on a balcony overlooking St. Peter’s Square. Pope John Paul II used these sessions to teach key concepts about the Bible and about the Christian life.
After the general audience, our bishop arranged for the youth to meet the pope on the steps of St. Peter’s Cathedral. The youngsters and their chaperones lined up for the greetings. The pope shook hands with each one of them.
Pope John Paul II gave Arif special attention by touching him on the cheek after the handshake.
At first we figured that he recognized Arif’s Polish heritage. Perhaps the holy man we called ‘Papa’ knew Arif would be in need of special graces.
I prayed again that each person who came into contact with Arif, in whatever lay ahead, be drawn closer to God. It was something I knew Arif would want as well.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
