The Healing of Frank, A Man Once Broken
This is a short telling of abuse, of redemption, and of the indomitable spirit of the soul.
Regardless of the depth of darkness we encounter, there always persists a flicker of light within in us that is indestructible.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the hushed whispers of anticipation swept through the room. It was a meditation class, a sanctum of healing, where souls, both weary and hopeful, congregated. Their collective endeavor was to confront their afflictions head-on, yet gently, devoid of judgment. It was the belief that this simple acknowledgment of suffering would eventually dismantle the mental chains holding them captive, thereby allowing the innate harmony of their mind, body, and spirit to be restored.
The soft murmurs hushed into silence as the class was about to commence. It was then, the door creaked open, and a figure, not walked but hobbled in.
He was a young man, barely standing straight, his body wrenched into the form of an octogenarian, leaning heavily on a cane for support.
A gasp traveled through the room as the realization sunk in. The onlookers watched, aghast, as he painstakingly settled himself onto the floor. The sight of a young life so cruelly ravaged by physical torment stoked a fire of compassion within the spectators. The instructor, sensing the turmoil in the room, introduced the newcomer as Frank, the focus of today’s session.
Frank’s story was a testament to human resilience.
A victim of physical abuse, his youth was marked by trauma that left his body and mind scarred. He was living proof of the aftermath of relentless beatings, evident in his spasmodic muscles and crippled skeleton.
But Frank was not a man to be pitied. He was a survivor, a testament to the indomitable spirit that defied the limitations of a battered body.
He resolutely proclaimed that his past was just that — past. He was no longer the person his parents had once forced him to be. He was confident that he would walk again, heal completely, not because he believed it, but because he knew it. And for this monumental journey, he asked for their assistance.
His calm acceptance and unwavering determination doused the spark of indignation that had been kindling within the attendees, leaving them in quiet admiration of his resilience. The realization dawned upon them that this was Frank’s battle, his life, and he was valiantly living it, irrespective of the harsh circumstances. To deny this reality would be an affront to his spirit and a disregard for their own life lessons.
A brave question pierced the somber silence, “Why do you want to heal?” Frank’s response, devoid of self-pity, filled with an ardent desire to break free from the shackles of his past, struck a deep chord within the listeners.
He didn’t want his existence to be defined by his pain, his past, or the life his parents had inflicted upon him. He was seeking a profound understanding of himself.
His unflinching honesty prompted a confession from a classmate, acknowledging the deep impact Frank had on them, far greater than what they could ever offer him. The class echoed this sentiment in silent agreement. And so, they started their collective healing journey, with Frank at the center.
Months of healing labor had passed in a blur of quiet determination and silent prayers. As the end of this collective journey drew near, a profound transformation was visible in Frank. He sat up, nearly unassisted, and stood a little straighter, his body less distorted. He drew a piece of paper from his pocket and let it fall to the floor. He limped out, leaving his cane behind as a symbol of the progress he’d made, a testament to his will.
The instructor picked up the paper and read aloud Frank’s heartfelt plea:
Love, please transform my life into an instrument of wisdom and peace.
As a participant, I was profoundly moved by Frank’s story, his unyielding courage, and his faith in his journey to healing. A man once broken, now healed, Frank truly embodied the essence of a born teacher.
Remembering Frank, I’m reminded of the Prayer of St. Francis.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace: where there is hatred, let me sow love; where there is injury, pardon; where there is doubt, faith; where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness, joy. O divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console, to be understood as to understand, to be loved as to love. For it is in giving that we receive, it is in pardoning that we are pardoned, and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life. Amen.
