Follow Me

This post is by guest columnist Murray Dunlap, husband of The Rev. Mary Balfour Dunlap (Resurrection, Greenwood).

and come back to church.

There is nothing as profoundly dangerous, or as profoundly asinine, as living behind blinders.  Step into the light, and welcome to the truth.  You’ll be glad you came.

First, I need to say a few words about my unlikely path. There was a car wreck, there was a coma, and there was a wheelchair.  Worse, there was and is a severe brain injury.  Consider yourself lucky. But, in the end, it was the right ingredients to fill my soul with love. Love and a brand-new appreciation for the contents of church. But that is all I will say. It was worse than anything you have ever experienced. Period.

But now it is over. 

So let’s go to church.

Remember when you squirmed into a clip-on tie, padded your way-too-big loafers (a mother’s determination to save money) with cotton-balls taped right in, and threw on an ill-fitting blazer that looked like a raincoat? Then you sat for what seemed like hours until your grade was called to Sunday School? At last!

You liked Sunday School because the prettiest girl you had ever seen went there and you were bound and determined to be her friend. We’re still friends, Kemp, right?

All of the nonsense aside, I went to church. Some of it must have even seeped in. Hell, my wife is an Episcopal priest and though I have truly been through it, I do see that God is my all-encompassing, all-powerful ally.  

But earlier, around the time I left home for college,  I guess I got it in my head that I knew enough to know better. Why – or how, I came to this preposterous conclusion is beyond me. That said, I imagine most people lose their way at some point.  Most people probably wonder what they are learning, or maybe even wonder if God exists?  I know that I thought long and hard about that when I was considering my wreck and the variety of injuries I sustained. Could there be a God who might orchestrate that?

I have since learned that my wreck was not created by God…How in our world could He have time? But He did, however,  point my recovery in the right direction. He saved me from some very intense battles with wrong-minded girls. I was foolish, but now I am strong.

The truth of it is that I feel even stronger when I am at church. It is a bullet-proof hoard of love and kindness that walks those hallowed halls. We might speak your language but communicate with wisdom and pride at how much higher our truth was – and is.

Waking at 4am – as usual, I make coffee. I do not sleep right since the wreck and cannot seem to find a doctor with any answers. I wrote this – what you are reading, right now on an eyelash of sleep and a dream without answers.  It’s about six.  I used to walk a Chocolate lab every morning, but we think she died of a heart-attack.  These days, I take a shower and laugh at the handles on the wall with suction-cups. It has not been very long since I needed them. Now, they still help when I wash my back. While dressing, I note the stack of books at bedside. My vision has been a spectacular problem for years and I have not finished any of them.  I endure something called 4th nerve palsy that I found in the bent metal and broken glass. Hard to explain, really, but just know that my eyesight is a bear.

Regardless, I finish dressing for church.  My dear, late mother’s dog, Sugar, lies on the bed -watching me, but stays at my wife’s feet and closes her eyes. A Malti-poo, she seems designed to live forever. And as a place for my wife’s endless affection, I thank God. Anyway, it is my wife’s big day, so I do not disturb them.   

It is as if I have a brand-new soul every Sunday. As an unfortunate man on disability, I spend more than a bit of time doing nothing. But come Sunday, not only am I the husband of the priest, I am actively moving closer to God. Having spent truly exhausting time with doctors and hospitals, I know the difference between living and dying. Hallelujah.

There is a sweet smell in our cabinet with coffee, and I am drawn to that smell. I am alive and inhale that smell like oxygen. The fresh scent reminds me of apple pie -and with a light dusting of cinnamon. I make coffee and spend time with that smell. If I was dying, I would not notice it. With coffee, I am ready to believe.

Now come back to church.