I want to honor my son, Luke, a day early. Tomorrow he is celebrating his 42nd birthday, and, while he is celebrating that day, I will be having surgery on my left ankle … again. He and his older brother, Andy will be enjoying a Twin’s game and rightly so.
Luke was overdue by a month and a half. We tried to induce that kid twice but he was so comfortable within his mom he just didn’t want to come out. It was one of those blistering hot summers with temps around 104 degrees. Ruthie finally had the doctor break her water and scrape her cervix which prompted Luke to finally see the light of day.
He was born at a crises moment in our lives. My teaching position had been cut and I was looking for a new job. That search led me to St Wenceslaus and a career in church ministry. For the first 5 months of his life, we were essentially homeless, all our possessions sitting in a semi trailer on Ruth’s family farm. We lived out of our suitcases at either Ruthie’s parents or my parent’s. In the midst of all this, a heart condition showed up for me, something my mom had, and something I passed on to my daughter, Meg. I finally had the problem corrected in 1992.
It was within months after having finally settled in our home in New Prague that Luke’s doctor told us that he believed Luke was born blind. I have never seen Ruth so angry and defiant. She immediately set up an appointment with her family opthamologist (her mother had a congenital visual condition that had been passed on to Ruth’s brothers, called congenital nystagmus). After a thorough exam, the doctor told us that Luke was not blind. His optic nerve had not fully developed and he had the congenital nystagmus. I expressed that time in our life in this poem I addressed to Ruth, in a collection of poems I composed in her honor, The Book of Ruth.
NOT ENOUGH TO BE HOMELESS BORN
Not enough to be homeless born
shuffled from home to home
your arms his sole source of bearing
in an unknown world,
finding home in your maternal embrace
An uncertain year of lost job,
lost home, lost health,
is nothing to the diagnosis
of the hidden blindness,
optic nerves,
gestational blood deprivation,
unable to focus,
unable to reveal
to infant’s hands
the world waiting to be explored.
Our son, our beautiful son
like the man in John’s gospel,
born blind.
Where is the miraculous mud
moistened by the saliva of Jesus?
You scoff at the white
lab coated Pharisees,
deriders of miracles,
blinded by medical science.
Scoffing at their unbelief,
From your mother’s heart
you see that to which
their eyes are blinded.
“Bullshitt!” Our son is
not blind, my womb,
my heart telling me
his sight is not limited
to the darkness of
shapeless shadows.”
Advanced in years,
eyes creased with
the smiles and wisdom
of age, the ancient
opthamologist,
undimmed by unbelief
peers into the eyes
of our Luke. “Your baby
sees, not perfectly,
but will see beyond
shadows and darkness,
living the life given him.”
Within, your mother’s heart
leaps, and raise his
small infant hand
in defiance and triumph!
© 2013. Deacon Bob Wagner OFS. All rights reserved.
Luke has conquered many obstacles in his life. I am so proud of him. In spite of all the troubles he has had in his life he perseveres. He is very much loved by his nephews and nieces. He remains the quiet guy he has always been (we discovered when he was nineteen that he also has Aspergers). Smart, funny, he continues to amaze me. I have learned much from him as I encounter my own obstacles and challenges in my life.
Happy birthday, Lukie!
Here is a song I composed for him in 2016.
