PART FOUR -
Shamokin to Lourdes
Chapter 38
It was very strange that on Neil's trip
to Wales he did not include a visit to Lourdes. It would have been so
easy. Just a short hop over the English Channel to Paris, a train ride of
just a few hours and he would have been at the Grotto of Massabielle
anointing his body and drinking the miraculous water from Bernadette's
spring. Neil did not have an explanation of why he did not do this. God
must have thought he was intelligent enough to go to Lourdes when he was
so close without any prompting from Him. When Neil did not, He was
probably a little disappointed in him. In the light of what happened
during the next three years, He must have been determined to remind Neil
at every opportunity that He wanted him to go to Lourdes. These things are
not written humorously. They are not written facetiously. They are written
seriously, reverently and in all humility.
For a short time after Neil returned
from Wales he gave no thought to his cerebral palsy. Then all this changed
suddenly by another strange twist in Neil's life. It was caused by such an
ordinary event that Neil can only believe it was clear evidence of God's
determination to send him to Lourdes. Neil moved. There was nothing
unusual or sensational about that. People move every day. But it was where
he moved that convinced Neil that God had a hand in it. Neil selected a
newly built house in the suburban area of Shamokin called Edgewood
Gardens. This area had formerly been a large amusement park. In the 1920's
it had been a Mecca for thousands of pleasure seekers coming on weekends
by special excursion trains from as far away as Philadelphia. Gone now
were the rides that thrilled Neil as a boy, the pavilion where Neil's
parents had waltzed to the strains of nationally famous dance bands and
the picnic tables around which they gathered on warm summer days to enjoy
foods especially prepared for the occasion. The lake had been filled in,
the souvenir stands dismantled and the swimming pool no longer existed.
Contractors were eagerly building homes for other people who would be
Neil's neighbors.
But mark this, in that same Edgewood
Gardens, even though there were probably other sites just as suitable, the
Catholic diocese had erected a brand new beautiful school. It was called
"Our Lady of Lourdes High School." From the day Neil moved into his new
home he was continually reminded in one way or another of Lourdes,
Bernadette and the Virgin Mary. Neil would pass close to the high school
each day on his way downtown and again on his way back home. Some of the
teachers were neighbors. Catholics lived on either side of him and across
the street. The boys and girls walked by his house daily going to or
returning from school. Priests called upon their parishioners and nuns
visited pupils, friends or relatives did not go unnoticed. It is no wonder
that under these circumstances Neil's long dormant desire to visit Lourdes
returned and became the irresistible force that God intended it to be.
But Neil had problems. The idea of a
member of Trinity Lutheran Church going to Lourdes as a tourist to see
Bernadette's spring was unusual in itself, rather bizarre in fact. It was
on a par with a member of Saint Edward's Catholic Church traveling all the
way to Wittenburg, Germany to see the door on which Martin Luther posted
his ninety-five theses. Both were understandable, as purely educational
trips. But for Neil to go to Lourdes as a devout pilgrim and humble
supplicant to the Virgin Mary, seeking a miraculous cure for his cerebral
palsy was almost unthinkable, even to him. Neil had a very difficult time
bringing the twisted pattern of his thoughts into a definite cohesive
plan. One night while Neil's wife, Helen, was attending a church meeting,
Neil realized if he were to be cured, it would have to be through a
spiritual experience of some kind and not through medical drugs or
physical manipulation of his body. In the quiet of Neil's den, he made his
decision. He would go to Lourdes and satisfy himself once and for all
whether God wanted him to remain a spastic for the rest of his life. It
would be God's decision whether He would have mercy on Neil and change his
body into the one He had promised to give him in the next. No one would
know the real reason for Neil's trip, not even his wife. That Neil alone
held in his secret heart. In fact, when Neil told Helen he was going to
Europe and intended to visit Lourdes, he carefully left her under the
impression that this was to be merely a stopover, and not the most
important town on his itinerary.
* * *
It is 9:00 P.M. on July 7, 1969. As you
enter the spacious KLM lounge at New York's Kennedy Airport you notice a
rather unusual middle-aged man sitting quietly by himself. At his feet are
two pieces of luggage, a small battered suitcase and an Air India flight
bag he had carried several years before on a trip to Wales. You observe in
an offhand way that he has a mild handicap of some kind. There is nothing
strange about that, you muse. Many handicapped people travel these days.
He looks up at you and asks for the time. At the sound of his voice you
notice he has a slight speech impediment. Then when you answer, it is
apparent his wristwatch has stopped. He raises his arm in an awkward
manner and winds the watch with fingers that move oddly. He thanks you,
nods his head and smiles in appreciation. But the smile and the nod are
unusual too. Suddenly, the truth dawns upon you. He is a "spastic," a
victim of cerebral palsy. You've heard of this affliction, of course, but
have probably not given it much attention. You've always thought of
spastics as being children. This is an adult. You become interested in him
because in the customary merriment of departure, he takes no part. No
friend is here to shake his hand in a genial leave taking, and no loved
one is at his side to kiss him good-bye. He seems to have a great deal on
his mind. Yet as he now settles back in his chair, his muscles relax, his
facial expression becomes serene and in his general appearance there is an
unmistakable aura of complete confidence. After awhile he gets easily to
his feet and strides briskly through the exit, down the hall and out of
the building onto the field where his plane is waiting.
You wonder idly, "Who is he . . . ?" In
the pocket of his coat he carries a passport made out to Neil H. Tasker.
Again you wonder, "Where is he from . . . ?" The same passport gives his
address as Shamokin, Pennsylvania. More importantly, you wonder, "Where is
he going . . . ?" Although the ticket he shows the stewardess as he boards
the plane is to the busy city of Amsterdam, in Holland, his real
destination is a small quiet town nestled in the Pyrenees Mountains of
southern France called Lourdes. He is at last, on his way to a rendezvous
with the Virgin Mary.
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