A Book of American Martyrs(17)
In a speeding vehicle, I was being transported to a hospital in Springfield which is eighteen miles away. At the time, I did not know this. Nor did I understand that it was a crash that had occurred. I did not know that other vehicles were taking other crash victims to the hospital—I did not know the word for ambulance, or for hospital. What was strange was, and would seem wonderful to me, I did not feel fear. I did not feel panic. I did not even feel regret except a mild disappointment, that I would not now be going home as I had planned; I would not see my dear family again nor any human face again, it was given to me to know. And a beam of light descended before me, that was a kind of highway, for it had taken the place of the highway, and would lift me into it, and still I did not feel terror for—(though I could not see Him)—I felt the presence of Jesus within me.
It would seem to me—(though I did not ever see Him with my actual eyes)—that my life was “saved” by Jesus; at the same time, it was given to me to know that my life was in Jesus, and that there was no distinction between Jesus and Luther Dunphy.
And so, there was no fear. It was like slipping into water that is warm, and tranquil—you cannot tell where your skin leaves off, and where the water begins. And the water buoys you aloft, as if you were an infant with no need for an agitation of your arms and legs or for any kind of fear.
For how long I remained in this state of tranquility and calm, I do not know. It would be told to me later that I had arrived in the ER unconscious and with low blood pressure, in a state of shock. It would be told to me later, the terrible news that others had died in the crash, though there was another survivor like myself, in the same hospital; and that I was on life support for forty-eight hours.
It is very strange to “awaken”—as if you have chosen to “awaken”—when this is not the case: you do not have any choice. The surprise of opening my eyes in a room of white walls, beeping machines, and air like the interior of a refrigerator, and seeing the faces of strangers, that kept slipping from me like a film that is dissolving, for I could not maintain the attention required to remain awake for more than a few seconds. And still later, there came my dear wife Edna Mae (though somewhat confused with my mother when she’d been Edna Mae’s age) to touch my hand, and to weep over me, and to pray for me; and others whom I knew, whose faces were familiar to me. And so I knew, that Jesus had sent me back to these people for it was not yet my time to join Him.
My skull, it was said, had been fractured in a thin crack along the crown. Injuries to the vertebrae of my lower back, and both arms badly sprained, and my right shoulder dislocated, and broken ribs, and overall trauma as they called it. And many facial lacerations and bruises and the acid-burns. And two black eyes! Yet the pain was a floating sensation, that I could climb upon as you could climb upon an air mattress in a swimming pool; and if I maintained diligence I did not sink into the pain, and did not feel the worst of the pain, that seemed to be happening in a distant place inside my own body, like an ugly noise that is heard in a distant room, throbbing and pulsing. Though afterward it would be evident to me that this sensation was the consequence of morphine being made to drip into my vein, and was not good for me, and so as soon as I could make my wishes known to the medical staff I told them No more morphine!
In St. Paul Missionary Church we do not believe in drugs (except prescription, when unavoidable), marijuana, alcoholic beverages, tobacco. We believe that at all moments of your life your soul is in communication with Jesus and that this communication must not be defiled, as you would not defile a newly washed window.
And later they would tell me, what sorrow it is, your poor darling little girl was taken from you. And Edna Mae had to be kept from me in the hospital, for she wept and sobbed so badly. But I did not recall that any child of mine had been in the vehicle with me. I was sure that this was so.
When I could speak calmly I said No. She was not with me. There was no one with me.
And they said, Luther, she was! Your daughter Daphne was with you, in the baby-seat in the back, for you were bringing her home from her grandmother’s, and she has died of her injuries in the crash.
(Was it the baby of whom they spoke? My little girl who was but three years old? But I was certain, no child of mine had been anywhere near the crash.)
Later it would be revealed, the identities of the others who had suffered in the crash, of whom two had died; and yet the identity of the driver who had fled the scene, who had not been apprehended, having committed vehicular manslaughter, would not be ever known.
How many times I protested—I did not bring Daphne with me! I did not.
God has seen fit to punish my wickedness in many ways but not in that way for the child was innocent, and God would protect her.
When I returned home from the hospital it was some time before I could walk without assistance, and then without a cane. And it was a long time before I could return to work, and then with much slowness and caution (of pain, in my lower back in particular). But with the help of God, I did return. I did not once complain, for I was grateful of my life; and I understood that, when my life is taken from me, by God, it will be a time not of sorrow but of rejoicing.
It happened that, my dear wife would not speak of Daphne as the others did. Edna Mae did not try to convince me that our three-year-old daughter had been in the vehicle with me for Edna Mae would not speak of the little girl at all. And others in the family told me, there was no need to think of it.