Tremendous

Lessons I’ve learned while visiting my neighbor…

“If you will get up and walk for a few minutes every hour, then you will not need to go to physical therapy.”  Those were the instructions from my surgeon.  

Walking…that seemed easy enough, even with a new hip.  I was getting this medical advice one month into this year and frankly, it had been a difficult year already. 

But, as it often happens to old deaf guys, my mind began to wander as I was getting this advice.  I found myself back in 1970 or so…the singer was Mahalia Jackson…the song was Just a Closer Walk With Thee.  In my mind’s eye, she wore a blue dress and an expression that said, “I own this song”.  She belted out some familiar lyrics and gained the respect of a not-too musical ten-year-old.  I can still feel the very distinctive jazz beat of her version of this classic. 

Later, I can recall enjoying the duo of Patsy Cline and Willie Nelson combining to offer an altogether different version of Just a Closer Walk With Thee.   That version typically plays on my mental jukebox, but the Mahalia Jackson version playing today includes the original second verse:

Through this world of toil and snares,
If I falter, Lord, who cares?
Who with me my burden shares?
None but Thee, dear Lord, none but Thee.

A few days later, I was in the street in front of my house, telling my thirteen-year-old neighbor Cline that I was having hip replacement surgery the next day. 
“My therapy” I told him, “will be to walk.” Cline, who had been practicing sign language with me, smiled and signed “I’ll walk with you”.  One of the side effects from his treatments had left him having some difficulty speaking.  We laughed about the convenience of sign language since he couldn’t much speak, and I cannot hear.

He teased me that if we went for a walk, I might not keep up.  (Cline had just been released from the hospital himself and was relishing the fact that he could still outpace me). I mentioned to him that this would be my third recent surgery, so maybe he could take it easy on an old guy.  Cline indicated that he could relate, but he thought that his number was more like twenty in his thirteen years.

And therein was Lesson One:

Perhaps it’s not always about me…I made a mental note to not ever mention dreading surgery again. 

Cline was getting tired and indicated that he needed to head home.  We said our goodbyes and promised to meet after my surgery for some short walks.  Cline took a couple of steps toward his house, he stopped, turned to face me, and signed “I’ll pray for you.”

And he was headed back home…

And just like that, Lesson Two was upon me: 

No matter what your situation in life, serving others is always the right thing.

My surgery went well.  When a rare Texas ice coverage melted, I began walking laps in the street on my block.  I saw Cline one more time later that week as he arrived home from a doctor’s appointment.  He insisted on walking with me to my house although his caregivers were somewhat unhappy with the idea.  We signed a little, we smiled a lot, and we agreed that he should come out and walk with me anytime he saw me on my physical therapy circuit. 

Cline pointed to himself… ‘I’;

he put his hands out flat, toward me, palms down, and moved them in an alternating motion up and down… ‘walk’;

he made two clinched hands and put the knuckles together… ‘with’;

and he pointed at me… ‘you’. 

‘I’ll walk with you.’

He smiled and waved, and he was gone…

I continued to walk my circuits and on the second day, Cline’s granddad, Pops, came outside to tell me that Cline wasn’t feeling well enough to walk with me that day.  I promised to check in on Cline the following day, and I continued my circuits.  But rather than two circuits I decided to do three, after all, whatever Cline was enduring was certainly much more difficult than whatever I might face.

And wrapped up in that was Lesson Three: 

There but for the grace of God go I.

Last year, just before Thanksgiving one of my friends, Sandra, shared an excerpt from one of my favorite childhood novels, E.B White’s Charlotte’s Web.

“Why did you do all this for me?” he asked. “I don’t deserve it.   I’ve never done anything for you.”

“You have been my friend,” replied Charlotte. “That in itself is a tremendous thing.”

I shared that excerpt with several friends via email and I received several nice responses, but the one that came back immediately from my friend Cline stayed with me…

I’m thankful for your friendship and the things you’ve taught me.   Happy Thanksgiving!

On Saturday, I learned that God had eternally removed the burden of treatments and pain for my friend, Cline.  And I prayed this line from Mahalia’s classic:

Guide Cline gently, safely o’er
To Thy kingdom shore, to Thy shore.

In just this calendar year, Cline has taught me a lesson in humility, a lesson in service, and a lesson on grace.  Borrowing a thought from Charlotte, if I had the ability to weave a web for him today, it would simply read: Tremendous.

Cline’s last words (signed) to me were: ‘I’ll walk with you’ and more prophetic those signs could not be…

I now understand that captured in those simple ASL signs was Lesson Four:

Yes Cline, you will walk with me…for all the days of my life.  I know that you will be with me for each step of my walk because you will be in my heart.  Thank you for being my friend and for all the lessons that you have taught me!

Just a closer walk with Thee,
Grant it, Jesus, is my plea,
Daily walking close to Thee,
Let it be, dear Lord, let it be.

Thanks for listening!

Your friend,

KBM

Kevin Medlin
kevin@mysilentpew.com