Stretching the truth

I was at the gym last night stretching after my workout, completely unmindful of my good health, and I noticed a young man with a walker aided by two physical therapists (PT) encouraging him in the basics of walking and reciting the names of those in his life - both were a struggle. His speech was slurred and, after noticing a sizable scar on his head, I realized something traumatic had happened to this guy and I immediately became mindful of many blessings for which I should be regularly mindful.

I was snapped out of my guilt as he scooted closer to the stretching area and I overhead him joking with the PTs about how he was going to get a speeding ticket because he was walking so fast…and then somehow the word “butt” came up and there were several childish jokes about that - which I fully appreciated since we apparently have a childish sense of humor in common.

His PT noticed I was laughing and invited me to hear his story. After the several minutes it took for them to make it over to an exercise bench and then the very long seconds it took for him to sit down on the bench and then after a few very simple strengthening exercises that challenged his every physical ability, the PT asked me to sit on the bench by him so he could tell me his story.

He introduced himself - Scott Laney, and insisted the PT hand him his phone - I assumed so he could show me horrific pictures of whatever had happened to him. Much to my surprise, Scott began to artfully and articulately unfold the details of what happened to him with masterful storytelling skills, including brilliant sequence, details such as dates and mile markers, and with ultimate conviction evidenced by piercing eye contact.

My unmasterful summary is that on his way to work on the northern slope in Alaska, he had run out of gas and while walking on the side of the road was hit by a car - head on by a man who was blind in one eye and who did not see him. Both of his legs, his shoulder, and his skull were broken. He died for 5 minutes and explained to me how he remembers walking on clouds and was entering Heaven’s beautiful gates - made out of “really expensive red wood and white gold” - and how he was overwhelmed by a complete sense of happiness. And then suddenly he was thrust back into his body. Although there were people, medics and an ambulance present, he recalls nothing and no one but Jesus carrying him, and looking down to see his heart glowing a bright shade of gold as he was being healed and being saved from death. At this point he unlocks his phone and I brace myself for bloody pictures, but instead he shows me this picture. I am obligated to quote this part: “Jesus looked just like this, except his beard was two inches longer and he had two white hairs.”

His mother had prayed for him the night before, that Jesus would be with him and hold him. I was tearing up at this point, and he ended his story with, “Would you like me to show you how you can find this picture of Jesus?” I agreed to Google it with him and here it is. I had planned to go to the gym to strengthen my body and to burn a few cals; but I drove away from the gym, Scott, and his PTs with far more than bodily strength. Thanks for bearing with me to the end of this encounter - in the time it took me to write it and for you to read it, Scott has probably suffered through one or two steps to wherever he is going to show and tell someone else about his picture of Jesus.