By Sam Carlson, a sophomore at Goshen College
Reprinted from Lenten Devotions
At 9:30 a.m. on Feb. 20, I opened my eyes to find myself on the floor, with a bruised knee, eye, hand and elbow. Eight strangers with furrowed eyebrows stood above me, waiting for me to speak. What are you supposed to say after passing out in public? As if I knew these people for years, I mumbled: “Hey!”
Do you know where you are? I did.
Do you know the date? Oh no! I never know the date!
With the hands of these strangers, I was pulled up from the ground. Under concussion precautions, I was transported to the emergency department of the hospital. Upon arrival, my heart started racing – at a rate of 216 beats per minute. Not only was I admitted for a potential concussion, but a suspiciously rapid pulse!
I was poked, prodded, jabbed and stabbed with more hands. Tests, labs and scans returned with no complications. Unable to ease my heart rate, my old ticker was stopped completely and restarted.
It worked! My heart rate settled.
Though I was met with continuous misfortune throughout the day, there was always a hand. Whether it was a hand pushing a gurney down hospital corridors or umpteen hands lifting me from the ground, I always had a hand.
It’s important to recognize that a higher being works in various ways. In this case, hands. Lots and lots of hands!