Another long night in my 15-year-old son Lenny\u2019s room. Another night with worries that kept me awake. I sat up and looked over at Lenny\u2019s bed. At least he was sleeping soundly.<\/p>\n
The room was quiet. No equipment beeping here. This wasn\u2019t the emergency ward. It was a rehabilitation hospital where Lenny had been sent to recover from a severe spinal cord injury.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d dropped everything\u2013my sixth-grade teaching job, life at home with my husband and our two daughters\u2013to devote full time to Lenny\u2019s care. Lenny had broken his neck while snowboarding with friends. He was paralyzed from the chest down. As always when I couldn\u2019t sleep I was praying.<\/p>\n
I\u2019d been praying a long time, ever since that February day when my cell phone rang at the restaurant where I was having a wedding anniversary lunch with my husband, Len. \u201cI\u2019m with ski patrol,\u201d a stranger\u2019s voice said. \u201cYour son\u2019s been in an accident.\u201d<\/p>\n
At the emergency room I saw Lenny on a stretcher, his neck engulfed in a huge brace. \u201cDon\u2019t cry, Mom. I\u2019m okay,\u201d he told me. \u201cI just can\u2019t feel anything.\u201d<\/p>\n
I\u2019d prayed all through Lenny\u2019s surgery. Doctors took bone from his hip and fused it to the broken vertebra in his neck. I\u2019d prayed for him in ICU and for strength to comprehend the magnitude of what our family was entering into. Medical jargon and forms to fill out and treatments to authorize came flying at us.<\/p>\n
\u201cEvery spinal cord injury is different,\u201d doctors kept saying, which I realized was their way of tamping down my expectations. Lenny was transferred to the rehab hospital and I prayed for good therapists and signs of progress.<\/p>\n
But we\u2019d been in this hospital for months, Lenny enduring grueling physical therapy for hours every day, and he didn\u2019t seem much closer to walking.<\/p>\n
He could jiggle his feet\u2013sometimes. He could stand while holding onto bars in the therapy room\u2013sort of. He could make his legs do what his brain told them to do\u2013but not consistently, especially with his right leg.<\/p>\n
Early in his treatment I\u2019d overheard someone say Lenny had about a five-percent chance of walking again and making a complete recovery. I held on to that five percent.<\/p>\n
I prayed for that five percent. I took extended leave from my job and camped out at this hospital to help Lenny reach that five percent. We were still somewhere in the other 95 percent.<\/p>\n
I gazed at Lenny breathing softly in his bed. He was a happy, upbeat kid, fun to be around. He had probably comforted me through this whole ordeal more than I\u2019d comforted him. But even he was getting frustrated and discouraged at his lack of progress.<\/p>\n
Most of all, Lenny loved sports and using his body to its full potential. That\u2019s what broke my heart. Baseball, lacrosse, football, basketball\u2013he\u2019d played them all. He had friends from all of his teams.<\/p>\n
He looked up to his coaches, really responded to their mentoring. I despaired to think of him losing that side of his life completely.<\/p>\n
I thought I had hit on the perfect motivator one day when I overheard one of Lenny\u2019s therapists say, \u201cHey, Lenny, your last name\u2019s Martelli. Any relation to Coach Phil Martelli?\u201d<\/p>\n
He was talking about the basketball coach at Saint Joseph\u2019s University in Philadelphia, celebrated for transforming a tiny Catholic university basketball program into a national powerhouse.<\/p>\n
Lenny brightened. \u201cCoach Phil? No, we\u2019re not related. But still it would be really cool to meet him.\u201d<\/p>\n
Quick as I could I was on the phone to the Saint Joseph\u2019s athletic office asking if maybe Coach Phil could send Lenny a note. Imagine my surprise when an hour later my cell phone rang and the coach himself told me he wouldn\u2019t be sending an encouraging note\u2013he\u2019d be coming to visit Lenny.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cHow does Wednesday afternoon at four work for you?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cUm, Wednesday afternoon would be great,\u201d I stammered. I figured it was better not to tell Lenny in case the coach ended up not being able to make it.<\/p>\n
But sure enough, at four o\u2019clock sharp on Wednesday, Coach Phil strode into the hospital room and shook my astonished son\u2019s hand. We compared family notes. No, we weren\u2019t even distantly related.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe share a great last name, anyway,\u201d said Coach Phil. Then he turned serious. \u201cTell me, Lenny, how\u2019s the rehab coming?\u201d<\/p>\n
Lenny\u2019s grin faded. \u201cStill can\u2019t walk,\u201d he mumbled.<\/p>\n
Coach Phil wasn\u2019t fazed.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re rebuilding, Lenny. That takes time,\u201d he said. \u201cI\u2019ll make you a deal. When you\u2019re walking again\u2013and notice I say when<\/em> not if<\/em>\u2013I\u2019m going to have you join me at the Saint Joseph\u2019s basketball arena and we\u2019re going to walk to the center of the court together and wave to the fans. That will be this upcoming season. What do you say?\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny looked at Coach Phil. I knew that expression on my son\u2019s face. It was that determined, \u201cI\u2019m not going to give up\u201d look he wore when one of his coaches asked him to push himself to the next level. \u201cOkay, Coach,\u201d he said, \u201cthat\u2019s a deal.\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny worked even harder in physical therapy, and Coach Phil called regularly to check in on him. I searched all over for more exercises to do with Lenny in his room. I made sure he kept up with his schoolwork and got plenty of visits from his friends.<\/p>\n But the five percent I\u2019d been clinging to, the miraculous results I\u2019d been praying for? We were still waiting for that.<\/p>\n What was left for us to try? I wondered. Or did I need to let go of that five percent and face the fact that Lenny was a part of that 95 percent who would never fully recover?<\/p>\n Maybe it was time for me to pray for something else\u2013for fortitude to walk whatever path the Good Lord set for us and thank him for my son\u2019s life.<\/p>\n I looked down at my hand. I was clutching a prayer card that someone had given to us. On it was a picture of Padre Pio, an Italian friar born in the nineteenth century who went on to become a saint. Padre Pio\u2019s simple advice to believers was: Pray, Hope and Don\u2019t Worry.<\/p>\n But how could I not worry? I\u2019d tried everything and my son was not recovering. A bit of light filtered into Lenny\u2019s room from his window and I held the card up to read the prayer printed on one side.<\/p>\n At the end of the prayer I was supposed to state what I was asking for. \u201cI confidently beseech you, Lord, to grant me the grace of healing for my son.\u201d I said those words over and over. The prayer was so short. It seemed tiny compared to the monumental miracle we needed.<\/p>\n I said the prayer until it seemed that I was saying it in my sleep.<\/p>\n I sat up with a jolt. Had I dozed off? Well, I was awake now, because I realized that Lenny and I weren\u2019t alone in the room. A figure stood by the door.<\/p>\n I squinted to try to see more clearly. It wasn\u2019t a doctor or a nurse. It was a man wearing a long robe made of rough fabric and tied around the waist by a rope. Okay, <\/em>I thought, this is weird. There\u2019s a friar in the room with me. <\/em>I should have been freaking out. But I wasn\u2019t.<\/p>\n The figure radiated peace and calm. He walked slowly to Lenny\u2019s bedside and stood looking down at my son. He then laid his hand on Lenny\u2019s right leg, the one that always gave him the most trouble in therapy. The hand rested there for a moment, then the figure backed out of the room.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I let out a long breath. What on earth had just happened? I looked at the prayer card again. Pray, Hope and Don\u2019t Worry. <\/em>Relief began to trickle through me, then surged, as mysterious as the figure of the old friar who had just visited.<\/p>\n For the first time in ages I did not feel worried. I leaned back, closed my eyes and dropped back to sleep.<\/p>\n The next day in the therapy room, two therapists put their arms around Lenny\u2019s waist and shoulders. He stood, able to put weight on his legs. \u201cLet\u2019s try something new,\u201d they said.<\/p>\n \u201cOkay,\u201d said Lenny. \u201cWhat do you want me to do?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWalk.\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny took a step with his left foot, then another with his right. All of a sudden, before any of us quite realized what was happening, he was walking. Supported by the two therapists, he made it to the end of the hallway and then turned around.<\/p>\n \u201cWhoa,\u201d he said, looking startled. \u201cHow did I get here?\u201d A huge grin and he answered his own question. \u201cI walked!\u201d He headed back up the hall toward me. \u201cMom!\u201d he cried. \u201cI\u2019m walking!\u201d<\/p>\n Lenny\u2019s progress was rapid after that amazing\u2013dare I say, miraculous?\u2013night. He walked farther and farther, step by step, each day, first with someone supporting him, then using the bars along the hallway and finally using nothing but a pair of canes.<\/p>\n Soon he was back home getting ready to return to school.<\/p>\n A few months later, leaning on his canes, he indeed walked out onto the Saint Joseph\u2019s University basketball court to wild applause, just like Coach Phil promised he would. Not if, when.<\/em><\/p>\n Today Lenny is back at school and doing everything he used to do, except sports.<\/p>\n I still can\u2019t say for certain what really happened that night in Lenny\u2019s hospital room. Obviously, God performed a miraculous work of healing. But I think there\u2019s a little more to it than that. Maybe the real miracle is in those simple words of Padre Pio\u2019s: Pray, Hope and Don\u2019t Worry.<\/p>\n I\u2019d wanted healing for Lenny and I\u2019d worried I wasn\u2019t doing enough to make it happen. I\u2019d forgotten God has his own timing and his own way of working.<\/p>\n The doctors, the physical therapy, the visits from Lenny\u2019s friends, the wonderful visit from Coach Phil\u2013those were all part of the miracle of Lenny\u2019s healing. There\u2019s a saying, \u201cGive time, time.\u201d Perhaps time is one of the greatest healing miracles of all.<\/p>\n Maybe Padre Pio did visit us that night not so much to heal Lenny as a reminder from God that healing was already underway. Pray, Hope and Don\u2019t Worry. <\/em>These days I do all three.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Another long night in my 15-year-old son Lenny\u2019s room. Another night with worries that kept me awake. I sat up and looked over at Lenny\u2019s bed. At least he was sleeping soundly. The room was quiet. No equipment beeping here. This wasn\u2019t the emergency ward. It was a rehabilitation hospital where Lenny had been sent […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":29839,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"ep_exclude_from_search":false,"footnotes":"","_wpscppro_dont_share_socialmedia":false,"_wpscppro_custom_social_share_image":0,"_facebook_share_type":"","_twitter_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type":"","_pinterest_share_type":"","_linkedin_share_type_page":"","_instagram_share_type":"","_medium_share_type":"","_threads_share_type":"","_google_business_share_type":"","_bluesky_share_type":"","_mastodon_share_type":"","_selected_social_profile":[],"_wpsp_enable_custom_social_template":false,"_wpsp_social_scheduling":{"enabled":false,"datetime":null,"platforms":[],"status":"template_only","dateOption":"today","timeOption":"now","customDays":"","customHours":"","customDate":"","customTime":"","schedulingType":"absolute"},"_wpsp_active_default_template":true},"categories":[246],"tags":[265,171],"ppma_author":[896],"class_list":["post-22390","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-healing","tag-basketball","tag-earth-angel"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\n