Never Alone

It was the summer of 1963 and I woke up early in the morning (around 4:00 am) with what I thought was a severe “charlie horse” in my right leg. I spent the next two hours hobbling around in the dark trying to walk the cramp out. My situation worsened throughout the day to the extent that when evening arrived I had to be physically carried to a vehicle and escorted to the local emergency room. After several tests and subsequent examination by the attending physician I was diagnosed with Rheumatic Fever. For the next six months I was basically bed ridden. My joints swelled to the degree that family members had to feed and bathe me. Until mid-December, our family physician visited once a week to check on my progress. The visit was always the same. He would check my temperature, examine my joints, listen to my heart, and conclude by giving me an injection of penicillin, a prophylactic I took in pill form until I was 28 years of age.

For six months I was “sheltered-in” at home and confined to my bed. I read and listened to the radio a lot, especially to “the Big Ape” out of Jacksonville, FL. I loved listening to the antics of the “Greaseman,” a radio announcer with a great voice, a penchant for entertainment accompanied by a wild sense of humor. I was listening to “the Big Ape” on November 22 and heard the first announcement, “President John F. Kennedy has been shot in downtown Dallas, TX.” I made my way to the living room where I found a comfortable spot on the couch. With family gathered and sitting in a semi-circle, we were stunned to hear Walker Cronkite from CBS share the shocking news that the president was dead. That day made a lasting impression on my life.

For the six months I was ordered to bed rest, I received only a handful of visitors most of them family. I remember three things clearly about that experience. I remember the bedroom windows being wide open during the fall and hearing my friends laughter and play in the street and nearby yards following school. I missed the interaction, the play, the rough and tumble with my friends. When a cardiologist diagnosed me as a 12 year old boy with mitral valve insufficiency and aortic stenosis, I remember seriously contemplating the issue of human mortality. It was during this time of recovery and pondering what the future might hold, isolated and confined to a bed, I also remember a significant spiritual awakening. I would read the Bible and talk to Jesus just like I carry on conversations with folks today. Casual. Informal. Real. Two special things happened. Dr. Gail Osterhout examined me and shared the wonderful news I could return to school in January! Great for me, not so good for my teacher (if you know what I mean.) Second, Jesus became the best friend I ever had. We visited every day on the way to school and along the sidewalk when the school day was over. Matter of fact, Jesus and I have visited with one another every day since. I have never felt alone, abandoned or scared. I have done some crazy things in life, uttered words I wish I could take back and made some foolish decisions. Not once has Jesus ever turned his back on me and he has always made himself available when I’ve needed guidance and a word of wisdom. In retrospect, I think one of the most important lessons I learned in those six months lying on my back was how to listen to the still, small voice. (Psalm 46:10)

We are going through a very turbulent time right now, to say the least. As a word of comfort, hope, and proper perspective the Evening Psalter for March 24 comes from Psalm 91, “You who live in the shelter of the Most High, who abide in the shadow of the Almighty, will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress; my God in whom I trust.’ For he will deliver you from the snare of the fowler and from the deadly pestilence; he will cover you with his pinions, and under his wings you will find refuge. The Lord will guard you in all your ways.”

Fourteen months after my initial diagnosis, Dr. Osterhout provided the medical clearance for me to play junior varsity basketball because allegedly, basketball at the time was considered a non-contact sport. However, no one told me. Like a good friend said years later, “Keeler, you were never very good, but you had the sharpest elbows and knees I’ve ever played against.” Sometimes, when you’re not very good you have to compensate.

The truth is, you have your own stories, too. Stories of victory and defeat. We’re all living a particular chapter in a greater human story and we will all have to compensate in some fashion or form in order to see and rejoice in the day when the storm is calmed. In the meantime, as I have said before, let us do our part to eradicate this horrific virus even as “we endeavor to remain calm in a time of distress, as we extend compassion to the suffering, and as we pray for the healing of the world.”  In whatever comes your way, may you know Jesus as your friend as we abide in the shadow of the Almighty.

In Christ +

—
Steve Keeler, Pastor