I didn't see any heavenly white light but someone held my hand

Aug. 18 was the last time I posted to my blog on my PC at my Cheyenne writing desk. Chris and I moved out of our house in Cheyenne on Aug. 22. New owners took over and we shuttled down to Denver Aug. 24 and got on a plane to Orlando. My PC was packed in a U-Haul trailer with many of my other valuables and my son and his girlfriend embarked on a road trip to Ormond Beach. We unpacked and Kevin and Luisa stayed with us a couple days and we took them over to the Orlando shuttle and said farewell, for now.

On Sept. 9, I made a detour to La-La Land (a.k.a. Advent Health Hospital) for a medical journey that I partly chronicled via my cellphone at https://hummingbirdminds.blogspot.com/2024/10/homecoming-ormond-by-sea-oct-4-2024.html. I cross-posted it on my Facebook page and my friends said WTF or something like that. I had numbness in my arms and legs and urged Chris to call 9-1-1 and the ambulance took me to the E.R. where I promptly had two seizures and they coded me twice. The very good ER crew intubated me, put down a feeding tube, and stuck with an assortment of IVs. I spent the next four days in I.C.U. none of which I remember. My wife took a picture of me as I was transported and I swear I look like an old man who almost died. Which I was. When I awoke in I.C.U. the next day, I was a bit fuzzy on the month and the day of the week and struggled with my name and birthdate. I would have been scared but I was too high (Fentanyl the E.R. notes said) to be scared.

Read more in my earlier post. I had to relearn how to pick up a spoon and walk. Reality set in and I got very scared. I asked to read the E.R. notes on the hospital's MyChart. A total of 11 staff worked on me, Doctors and nurses and techs and X-ray people. My story sounded like someone else's story They gave me a big dose of antibiotics because they detected a bacterial infection of unknown origin and it caused sepsis which is really bad and sometimes people die of it -- some call it blood poisoning. If it sounds as if I was in a remote region of Indonesia and stirred up some bad juju, I was not. Cheyenne was the most exotic place I'd been and then meandered through construction at the Denver airport (I was nowhere near the giant red-eyed horse or the Illuminati types who haunt the basement), but then I did get on a plane and you know know how many germs one finds there and then I was in the Orlando airport with many sneezing children and spirits from the Pirates of the Caribbean. 

But it was none of those. The nearest I could figure was the staph infection I had in a leg wound that was treated with antibiotics and skin grafts were applied. Maybe the antibiotics didn't do their job or the grafts were somehow infected. This is all conjecture. I was a sick puppy who spent 25 days in the hospital, half of that time in the 12th floor Therapy Center which takes only stroke patients, the partially paralyzed, the fully paralyzed and some Dementia patients. I received four to five hours of OT and PT five days a week. 

A few days in, PT Adam asked me to see far I could walk with the help of my walker. 5.5 feet was all I could do. Later, he had me try again and I got my Irish up and went 10 feet. He gave me an attaboy and I kept moving the line 5-10 feet a day. I wanted to cry sometimes but I pushed those tears deep inside and used them for fuel for my damaged leg muscles. My last day, I walked 50 feet, rested, and walked 50 more, squeezing out the last few steps. 

Chris was with me the whole time although she only spent two nights with me -- the last one during Hurricane Helene which wasn't much of a hurricane at all in our part of Florida. We had to wait for MIlton for that. A big thank you to all of my family members, especially those who yearned to bring me some white shrimp from Hull's Seafood, But I passed as the tasteless hospital food was all I was supposed to eat. The infection or all the drugs took away my taste buds. They are back now after several dosings of hot salsa and Extra Flamin' Hot Cheetos. Damn, those things are hot. I loved the Cheetos TV movie, by the way.

One last thing. I talked to my Evangelical Christian daughter and told her that someone or some presence was holding my hand while I was not fully there. Might have been one of my brothers, Pat or Dan, or my parents. No, she said, God was holding your hand. All you have to do is ask and He will be here for you. I didn't ask, but he might have been there anyway.

Prayers in the dairy section

Praying in the dairy section

I have nothing against prayer in the grocery store.

Yesterday, as I headed to the dairy case, my legs tired from piloting the cart through the aisles, a woman asked if she could pray for me. My face had revealed the pain, a crease in the eyes, a grim set to my mouth. She picked it up, this gray-haired woman with a kind face. She asked about the cause of the pain. Spinal surgery, I replied, my exercise regime included pushing this cart from produce to bakery to dairy.

She -- her name was Diane -- pressed one hand into my cervical spine, at C-4 and C-5 where metal meets bone. She raised her other hand is supplication and prayed. Short and to the point, a plea to God to heal. I looked at her raised hand, small and slim, so as not to look at other customers who might wonder what was going on among the coffee creamer and almond milk. Diane wrapped the prayer. I expected a Bible tract from her, an invitation to her Jumpin' Jesus church. She just asked how I felt. I said we should give it time, don't you think?

We parted. No change in my pain or stuttering walk.

But there were a few moments when my soul left body and sailed around the store.

Cheyenne's "Bibles & Beer" featured in USA Today

My Liberal Wyoming pals Rev. Rodger McDaniel and Jason Bloomberg. Rodger started "Bibles & Beer" at Uncle Charlie's Tavern last year and it was featured in today's USA Today. I love the final line of the story:  McDaniel says he got questions in the beginning from people concerned about associating alcohol with the Bible. His answer: "Jesus didn't change wine into water."

We pray that National Day of Prayer goes away

I take the liberty to reproduce parts of a letter to the editor published in the May 14 Casper Star-Tribune:

Editor:

On Thursday, May 7, Wyoming Christians took part in the National Day of Prayer in Cheyenne. The NDP theme this year? "Prayer...America's Hope," based upon Psalm 33:22, "May your unfailing love rest upon us, O Lord, even as we put our hope in You."

The Rotunda at the Capital was filled to almost overflowing with Christians, who, at noon that day, joined millions of their fellow countrymen across the United States in prayer for our nation.

(removed several paragraphs as they irritated me)

Although prayer is one of the most enduring paths to hope and change, and our nation needs a lot of both right now, the current inhabitant of the White House did not observe NDP. Mr. Obama's Press Secretary, Robert Gibbs, told his press club, "We're doing a proclamation, which I know many administrations in the past have done." But Mr. Obama did not invite any faith leaders to the White House, nor did he attend any of the events associated with NDP, as all of his predecessors for at least the past fifty years have done.

Does that tell us anything about our president?

ANTHONY J. SACCO, Pine Bluffs

Mr. Sacco, I have already written at length about the sham called National Day of Prayer. It sounds like a great thing, all of us "Christians" raising our voices in supplication to the God as conceived by Christians. However, Christians come in many shapes and sizes. I, for one, am a Christian and a Democrat and a fan of Pres. Obama. I do not chide someone for avoiding prayer, or for praying in a way different from my own method. I then would be as bad as the arrogant Pharisees that Jesus himself had so much trouble with.

When I discovered that the National Day of Prayer was just a Right-Wing Fundamentalist sham cooked up by James Dobson and his lovely wife of Focus on the Family fame, I realized what a crock this event was. You fundies have spent the past couple decades trying to remake the country in your theocratic vision. You failed miserably, and now it's time for the rational adults to take over.

I grant you, prayer is a wonderful thing. It is one path to hope and change. There are many paths to hope and change. Last fall, some of us chose to pray for strength while we knocked on doors to get people to vote for a candidate of hope and change. We got what we worked and prayed for. Not everything that Pres. Obama does is what I envisioned. But it's a start -- and much better than what you fundies had in mind.

Amen.

More on National Day of Prayer

National Day of Prayer is now over on the East Coast, although we have two more hours of praying time here in the Rockies. So get those prayers in, as the Good Lord pays extra-special attention on this day.

I wrote yesterday about the links between National Day of Prayer and the Fundamentalist Right, notably Dobson's Focus on the Family down in Colorado Springs. Americans United for Separation of Church and State have a lot more on the issue at its web site. Go to http://tinyurl.com/raul9v.

Amen, ya'll.

Spirituality trumps dogma on Good Friday

For kids in Catholic School, the best thing about Good Friday (circa 1961) was that there was no school. While public school kids rotted at their desks, we were free to play ball or (if snowing) sled or wage Holy Week snowball wars. But that was after we attended church to pray the stations of the cross and feel really bad about Christ’s crucifixion. In the dark and dreary church, the citizenry was swathed in somber clothes and the air reeked of incense. It wasn’t too unusual when an old lady broke down in tears at the sight of Christ on the cross. To a wise-ass ten-year-old, this was a very long day. Only when the stations were completed could we go home and cut loose.

The sorrows of Good Friday gave way to the joys of Easter. Sure, we had to go to church again, but it was to celebrate Christ rising from the dead and an Easter Egg hunt followed, as well as chocolate bunnies and then Easter dinner with the relatives. It didn’t matter if it was cold and snowy because you knew that spring was coming, and after that summer. Easter marked the change of seasons and the return of (mostly) sunny days.

I no longer do the stations of the cross, as I’m only nominally Catholic. I attend a United Methodist Church with my wife Chris and daughter Annie. My parents and Chris’s parents are spinning in their consecrated graves. Chris’s father was the grand knight of the Knights of Columbus chapter in Ormond Beach, Florida. His K of C Hall was the site of our wedding reception in May 1982 after we were married at St. Brendan’s Catholic Church (yes, named after Ireland’s St. Brendan the Navigator). We were both raised Catholics with all the attendant sacraments. I won the K of C "Mr. Catholic" savings bond when I graduated from high school in 1969.

I guess I’m what’s called an "historical" Catholic. I feel deserted by the Church because it’s become so conservative in an alliance with American Fundamentalists. The last time I went to mass during the lead-up to the 2004 elections, a church deacon’s homily warned us not to vote for any Catholic candidates (John Kerry) that didn’t follow church teachings on abortion (against) and homosexuality (really against). Real Catholics voted for pro-life candidates, even if those people (George Bush) were currently killing babies with bombs in Iraq.

That was it for me.

So, since I can’t be a "real" Catholic, I go somewhere else that welcomes people like me.

My Christianity is complicated. I struggle with it all the time. I’m un-Christian at times, especially when confronted with the hatred and intolerance of so-called Christians. I’m not better than they are – I’m intolerant of them and their shenanigans. I should forgive them for their imperfections. I should also forgive myself.

I was casting about for some words of wisdom to illuminate my predicament. I found them, as I often do, on the Sojourners web site. Sojourners has a daily posting called "Verse & Voice" that featured a Biblical verse and spiritual quote from someone. Today, it was noted Christian theologian Henri Nouwen in a lecture, "The Vision of Jesus," at the Scarritt-Bennett Center. Here’s the quote:

The vision that Jesus gives us is this: That I am unconditionally loved, that I belong to God, and that I am a person who can really trust that. When I meet another person who also is rooted in the heart of God, then the spirit of God in me can recognize the spirit of God in the other person, and then we can start building a new space, a new home, a house, a community. Whether we speak about friendship, community, family, marriage, in the spiritual world we are talking about spirit recognizing Spirit, solitude embracing Solitude, heart speaking to Heart. And where this happens, there is an immense space.

Try that on for size this Good Friday.

Poetry meets centering prayer

My old pal Dick Lechman, poet and owner of Grandfather Books in Arvada, Colo., is starting a new adventure. Dick has always been interested in writing as a spiritual quest. He 's launching Desert in the City. Here's info on his first gathering:

Desert in the City, at 5612 Olde Wadsworth in Arvada, is sponsoring a Contemplative Centering Prayer Night which includes writers checking in on spiritual search and how their writing affects themselves and the broader community. We eventually will read aloud our own writing in turn. Meetings held each Wednesday, 7-9 p.m. Initial goal is 10-12 men and women (preferably seniors 50-75, 40 minimum age) who are writers. Second goal is to plan renting permanent housing to form Desert in the City as a non-profit. Oct 17 is the first meeting. Visiting writers any age welcome.

FMI: Dick Lechman, zorrolechman@qwest.net

Prayer: A divider, not a uniter

I wasn't aware that the National Day of Prayer had an official Bible verse. The one for this year comes from Chronicles 7:14: "If my people, who are called by my name, humble themselves and pray, and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven. I will forgive their sin and will heal their land."

This all-purpose verse is accompanied by an official theme: "America, unite in prayer."

As if we could unite on anything these days. That includes prayer and religion, which have become more divisive than uniting.

We'll give it a shot anyway. On Thursday, Wyoming will mark the NDOP with "a time for prayer" on the steps of the State Capitol in Cheyenne. St. Mark's Episcopal Church, corner of Central Ave. and 19th St., will hold an "ecumenical service of evening prayer" at 5:15 p.m.

In recent years, these noon time public prayer services have had a distinctive fundamentalist tinge. They also have been opportunities to "pray for our troops" and "pray for our president." No mention of praying for peace or for the dead children of Iraq.

That's the problem. These public professions of faith have been turned into partisan political opportunities. If I followed the Christian tenet of praying for my enemies, I would pray for the president. He needs all the prayers we can muster. But I would be praying for his immortal soul, not success in Iraq (whatever that is). I do not wish Bush success in anything. All he's been successful at doing is waging and illegal and immoral war, torturing other humans, curtailing our constitutional rights, making the rich richer and the poor poorer, etc. I would pray for him a change of heart. Since he is the most stubborn man on the planet, the prayers would be wasted.

Perhaps I should pray for my own change of heart. Pray that I love my enemies, not hate them. Now that's a worthy goal.