My Big Break, Part One: Please Help Me, I’m Falling!

We are assured and know that [God being a partner in their labor] all things work together and are [fitting into a plan] for good to and for those who love God and are called according to [His] design and purpose. Romans 8:28 (Amp)

Dear Brothers and Sisters in Christ,

And so we begin by reading from the book of William 1:1-2,

¹And it came to pass in the year of our Lord 2008AD on the 25^th of November that Christine and William journeyed for an hour on the heavily-traveled road to the Gateway. They ventured forth to help with the decoration of the temple for the celebration of the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ.

²And as they gathered at the Gateway with other true believers they knew not of the great fall that awaited William nor that he would be taken from their midst by strangers who would offer healing for his broken body….

I begin this letter in this quirky way for several reasons.

First, the story I’m about to relate took place just before Thanksgiving last year when I was thinking not only of the family gathering to come but also was beginning to get into the “Christmas spirit.” That fact lent me to think of the stories of Jesus’ birth I love to hear and read time and again.

Second, the “road” I was to “travel”–-which began that night-–was to be for me a time like no other in my long past life. It was to be a journey filled with pain, frustration, and tears but also with joy, laughter, victory, a special closeness with my Savior and Lord, and the greatest outpouring of love and prayers from God’s people I have ever knowingly received.

Third, I began this letter in this way because—as you may suspect by now or know from knowing me–I’m quirky.

The beginning of my story is related in the above “verses” from the fictitious book of “William.”

In short, my wife and I were at our church, Gateway Community, to help decorate the sanctuary for Christmas.

It was November 25^th—just two days before Thanksgiving–when I persuaded her to go with me to see what still needed to be done.

We arrived that night after a 45-minute drive through a combination of regular Houston traffic mixed with a slew of early holiday shoppers—the kind of delay that can often make me want to turn around and go home.

But not this time; I was determined to get there and help and nothing could stand in my way.

I was helping with others to unroll long strings of Christmas lights that were attached to, and wrapped around, long pieces of lumber. Once unrolled, these boards were to be suspended behind long sheer curtains at the back of the stage, providing multiple strings of bright lights to show through.

Naturally, unrolling these lights led me to walk backwards from upstage to downstage and…well, while you can probably see it coming, I certainly did not.

Oh, I thought I was aware. I remember having the presence of mind to look for one of the short sets of stairs that lay on each side of the rounded stage front. I had a misplaced sense of security in knowing that I was avoiding these steps. But after that—I gave it no further thought.

The next thing I knew was that I was falling. I was never aware of being about to fall but recognized only that I was in a semi-horizontal angle making vain attempts to balance by flailing my arms around like a bird trying to take flight. (Wow! Wouldn’t that have been something if I could have done so! Say, Jesus walked on water. Did He ever walk on air? I guess He did when He ascended.)

My next awareness was not of falling but of being on the floor in front of the stage. My left leg was somewhat to one side and nothing I tried would get it to move alongside my right. My left arm was pointing up at my side, a large lump on the upper side of my wrist.

Although I’ve had falls before as an adult, I’ve never broken bones. Usually, after varying amounts of body checking and recovery, I have gotten myself up and proceeded with stiffness, some pain, and have recovered in short order.

This time, though, I knew I would not be getting up on my own, experiencing–and complaining about–some pain, shaking it off, and going home to rest.

After being strapped on a board–for the first time in my life–and being transported by ambulance (without siren) to the hospital—for the second time in my life—I experienced a week’s stay including meals, injections and medications, plus operations on my hip and wrist. I couldn’t eat the meals. There wasn’t anything wrong with them; I just had no appetite whatsoever (a rare occurrence for me).

So, that’s the first part of my story—and I’m sticking to it. Stay tuned for Part Two where Romans 8:28 comes into play. I’ll write about my recovery–still a work-in-progress—but, much more importantly what God, through the Holy Spirit, taught me as a result of my request.

Love,
Brother Bill