Pastor’s Pen, Beatrice Daily Sun- submitted Mon., July 24, 2006
On May 10th my wife and I were in an eight car pile-up in a rain storm in the mountains of Tennessee. We were moving my wife’s mother from South Carolina to Homestead House here in Beatrice. I was driving a 17 foot U-Haul truck. My wife and her Mama were in our mini-van. I have no memory of the accident. Because of a concussion, I lost about 24 hours surrounding the crash. Cindy was able to come to a stop just in time to see me smash into the back of a semi-truck changing lanes next to her.
I was life-flighted to the University if Tennessee Medical Center in Knoxville where they put titanium plates in my pelvis and left hip. My left knee sustained some ligament damage. After looking at pictures of the truck after the crash I firmly believe my seat belt (and I’m not known for wearing seat-belts) and air-bags saved my life. I call those my “Lucky to be alive,” pictures.
I spent a week at the University of Tennessee Medical Center before being flown to Beatrice by Brian Husa, our Staff Parish Relations Committee Chair. One day after arriving at the Beatrice Hospital, God spoke through the nurse who leaned down and said, “Honey, you’re gonna’ have to learn how to ask for help when you need it.”
If I’ve learned nothing else from this broken hip and broken pelvis, its that I’ve overlooked the value of dependence for most of my life. Now, I have no choice. I am dependent on others for almost everything (and I mean EVERYTHING).
And, since I can’t help but wonder what God has to do with all of this, I wonder if part of what Jesus was trying to teach us, was about how we need to depend on each other; how, being a part of a community is how we get closer to God; how, depending on each other is a rather Christian thing to do. Maybe independence is not all its cracked up to be. Maybe dependence on God is what is most important. Maybe dependence on each other is what follows. I don’t know. But my near death car crash experience and subsequent recovery time has forced me to reconsider such things.
Now, I’m waiting for mid-August when I can begin putting full weight on my left leg. But I still get to do physical therapy three times a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the first week I’d progressed to 97. Then, I got to 107. Two degrees progress can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees.
Our congregation has been wonderful through all this. I thank God for all those who fed my family for a month after we got home; for the nurses in our church & Dr. Butler who came into my home and gave me a shot in my stomach for a month after I got out of the hospital; for all the creative ways our members reached out to us and let us know we are loved. I didn’t know there were so many different kinds of Get Well cards! One young mother told me that she had prayed for me in my prayer spot in the sanctuary (north side, three rows from the front, in front of the second pillar), sensing my presence, keeping my spot warm for me ‘til I could get back. Our colleagues in the Beatrice Ministerial Association visited me in the hospital and let me know we were in the prayers of all their congregations. Dr. Gloor and Dr. Butler were there for Cindy who called from Tennessee needing re-assurance and answers to her questions. Our church Trustees made a ramp magically appear in front of our house, so I could get in with my wheel chair. Our church staff stepped up and took over while we were gone, keeping the church going in our absence.
There is not enough room in this paper to thank all those that need to be thanked. I have learned through all of this that my healing is a group project, a community project. My life will never be the same. Who I am and will be is because of all those who reached out to help in my hour of need. For that I thank God. I only hope I can do the same.
Grace & Peace, Rev. Kelly Karges, Co-Pastor, Centenary United Methodist Church
Saturday, July 29, 2006
Thursday, July 27, 2006
RevKelly Journeys 7-30-06
Journeys 7-30-06:
As of this writing (Thursday, July 27), there are 21 days until school starts in the Beatrice Public School System. Ten days until Band Camp. Four days until Limited, (High School Swing Choir) choreography camp. According to Huskerpedia.com, there are 37 days, 3 hours, 57 minutes, 56 seconds until the kick-off for the first Nebraska Cornhusker Football game.
These are the most vacationed two weeks of the year. For families with kids, this is it. If you’re going to get gone, its now or fall break. Last week’s Gospel lesson told of Jesus’ training up his disciples. He sent them out two by two. When they came back all excited to tell the news of their experiences of healing and ministry Jesus herded them off to, “a quiet, deserted place” to be alone and recoup. The sermon message was to follow Jesus’ example and pace of ministry and retreat, service and prayer. No one goes at it all the time, not even Jesus. Weekly worship is a kind of retreat to refill our cup before heading back out that door for another 7 days of ministry; following Jesus in our homes and jobs. Daily prayer and meditation at the beginning or ending of the day is a micro-retreat to frame your day and reflect on God’s part in it.
The family vacation is a way to disengage from the normal routine and re-invest in each other. With cell phones, text messaging, and wireless internet, its becoming harder and harder to unplug. But there’s something about just getting out of town that drops the diaphragm, lowers the bodies’ barometric pressure and lets a big sigh of relief out of your mouth the instant you pass out of the city limits. When on vacation, you have to sit around the same table to eat that fast food. You have to talk to each other even if its, “Pass the ketchup.” You’re following Jesus’ pace and pattern; ministry and retreat, service and prayer.
May God grant each of us some kind of retreat before the fall schedule attacks and consumes our calendars.
Grace & Peace,
As of this writing (Thursday, July 27), there are 21 days until school starts in the Beatrice Public School System. Ten days until Band Camp. Four days until Limited, (High School Swing Choir) choreography camp. According to Huskerpedia.com, there are 37 days, 3 hours, 57 minutes, 56 seconds until the kick-off for the first Nebraska Cornhusker Football game.
These are the most vacationed two weeks of the year. For families with kids, this is it. If you’re going to get gone, its now or fall break. Last week’s Gospel lesson told of Jesus’ training up his disciples. He sent them out two by two. When they came back all excited to tell the news of their experiences of healing and ministry Jesus herded them off to, “a quiet, deserted place” to be alone and recoup. The sermon message was to follow Jesus’ example and pace of ministry and retreat, service and prayer. No one goes at it all the time, not even Jesus. Weekly worship is a kind of retreat to refill our cup before heading back out that door for another 7 days of ministry; following Jesus in our homes and jobs. Daily prayer and meditation at the beginning or ending of the day is a micro-retreat to frame your day and reflect on God’s part in it.
The family vacation is a way to disengage from the normal routine and re-invest in each other. With cell phones, text messaging, and wireless internet, its becoming harder and harder to unplug. But there’s something about just getting out of town that drops the diaphragm, lowers the bodies’ barometric pressure and lets a big sigh of relief out of your mouth the instant you pass out of the city limits. When on vacation, you have to sit around the same table to eat that fast food. You have to talk to each other even if its, “Pass the ketchup.” You’re following Jesus’ pace and pattern; ministry and retreat, service and prayer.
May God grant each of us some kind of retreat before the fall schedule attacks and consumes our calendars.
Grace & Peace,
Sunday, July 23, 2006
RevKelly Journeys 7-16-06
A matter of degrees.
I can’t put any weight on my left leg until mid-August. But I still get to do physical therapy three days a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the week I’d progressed to 97. Today, I got to 103. Two degrees can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees. Did I tell you I got my knee to 103 today?
Grace & Peace,
I can’t put any weight on my left leg until mid-August. But I still get to do physical therapy three days a week. Right now, healing is measured in numbers. It’s a matter of degrees. My physical therapist, Jason, works my left knee that’s recovering from a torn PCL and small tears on several lateral ligaments. At the end of each session we get out the sliding board, and the big clear plastic angle measurer, and start the bending. I started at 91 degrees. By the end of the week I’d progressed to 97. Today, I got to 103. Two degrees can make me very happy right now. One degree is not good enough. Stay the same or decrease and I’m crushed (not a good concept for me right now). The ultimate goal is to bend the left knee to 120 degrees.
Healing is a weird thing. It’s a mental, physical and spiritual thing. In the end I know I want to walk; no limp, no leaning, a regular 46 year old 200 pound male stride. But a return to my gait won’t heal the mental and spiritual disruption.
After looking at post-crash pictures of the truck I was driving, I know I’m lucky to have the possibility of walking again. Seeing the x-rays of the metal plates and spikes in my pelvis and hip reinforced just how damaged my insides were. That cured me of any thoughts of putting weight on that hip before the doctor told me it was O.K..
If chasing 50 hadn’t done it enough for me, this accident has slapped me awake to the realization that I am not going to live forever. There are limits to how much time I have left here. There is no reason to avoid my life’s to-do list any more. My soul is having to digest the idea that I might not get everything done that I want to get done before I’m done here. If that air-bag had not gone off, I’m not sure I’d be satisfied with the life of Kelly Jay Karges to this point in time. Maybe my check list needs to be revised, shifted a few degrees. Maybe I need to erase the “Whats” and “How much-es,” of that list and replace them with “Whos” and “Whens.”
I think the mental and spiritual healing takes a little longer. How do you measure the holes in your soul? When do you know you have closure? Is being satisfied really all that big of deal? Is the end accounting any more important than the middle? I don’t know. I think it’s a matter of degrees. Did I tell you I got my knee to 103 today?
Grace & Peace,
RevKelly Journeys 7-23-06
I had another birthday on Thursday. I crossed over from 46 to 47. This birthday’s a little different. This year the celebration of being alive happened May 11th instead of July 20th. Though I was not conscious at the time, my family and friends tell me they breathed a great sigh of relief that I was still alive after our eight car pile up in the mountains in Tennessee. Most birthday parties are not framed by the alternative. This year being alive to mark another year means that I am not dead.
The joke I’ve told is of waking up in the ICU; a dark room with a T.V. on. I knew the playoffs were on, but there was no way to change the channel. I wondered if I was alive or had died and gone to hell! When I complained to the nurse, she said to just keep pushing that morphine button and everything would be fine. I said, “Yea, but will it change the channel?”
Ever since about 40, my birthdays have been a time to stop and take stock; think about where I am, what I want to do with the rest of my life. Lately, every one after 45 has just been another slippery slope toward the big 5-0.
In my mind, I am still 24. But when I try and get out of bed, my body no longer feels 24. When I pass by the mirror I wonder where all those other years have gone, and who’s that grey headed/bearded guy staring back at me?
Being so thankful to be alive has changed the way I approach each day. Now, I want to soak in the best of the ones I love every day. Sunrise and sunset are reasons to thank God again. I don’t know how long all this’ll last. Hopefully, at least until I’m 48.
Grace & Peace,
The joke I’ve told is of waking up in the ICU; a dark room with a T.V. on. I knew the playoffs were on, but there was no way to change the channel. I wondered if I was alive or had died and gone to hell! When I complained to the nurse, she said to just keep pushing that morphine button and everything would be fine. I said, “Yea, but will it change the channel?”
Ever since about 40, my birthdays have been a time to stop and take stock; think about where I am, what I want to do with the rest of my life. Lately, every one after 45 has just been another slippery slope toward the big 5-0.
In my mind, I am still 24. But when I try and get out of bed, my body no longer feels 24. When I pass by the mirror I wonder where all those other years have gone, and who’s that grey headed/bearded guy staring back at me?
Being so thankful to be alive has changed the way I approach each day. Now, I want to soak in the best of the ones I love every day. Sunrise and sunset are reasons to thank God again. I don’t know how long all this’ll last. Hopefully, at least until I’m 48.
Grace & Peace,
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
Journeys 7-2-06
Journeys: 7-2-06
{from the backside of the bulletin of Centenary U.M.C., Beatrice, NE}
Tuesday is Independence Day. I’ve probably spent half of my life asserting my personal independence. My teenage years were about proving my independence from my parents. My early young adult years were about proving my value in competition with my peers. Whomever came out on top could separate themselves from the pack and claim Alpha-dog status. I entered marriage determined not to loose my independence. I chose my vocation partly because of the independence and freedom it offers when it comes to my daily schedule.
Then, we were in that eight car pile-up in the mountains of Tennessee. I spent a week at the University of Tennessee Medical Center before being flown to Beatrice. One day after arriving at the Beatrice Hospital, God spoke through the nurse who leaned down and said, “Honey, you’re gonna’ have to learn how to ask for help when you need it.”
Today’s theme is dependence verses independence. ‘Cause if I’ve learned nothing else from this broken hip and broken pelvis, its that I’ve overlooked the value of dependence for most of my life. Now, I have no choice. I am dependent on others for almost everything (and I mean EVERYTHING).
And, since I can’t help but wonder what God has to do with all of this, I wonder if part of what Jesus was trying to teach us, was about how we need to depend on each other; how, being a part of a community is how we get closer to God; how, depending on each other is a rather Christian thing to do. Maybe independence is not all its cracked up to be. Maybe dependence on God is what is most important. Maybe dependence on each other is what follows. I don’t know. But my near death car crash experience and subsequent recovery time has forced me to reconsider such things.
Grace & Peace,
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)