it was a dark, rainy night

8/3/2019 It Was a Dark, Rainy Night

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It Was a Dark, Rainy Night By Micah Murphy

truthandcharity.net

Photo credit: Rain Street. Flickr. Hippydream.

So begins the story of a moment in my life I will never forget. No, its not a

horror story. It wasnt like the dark, rainy nights in the movies.

This night was different.

It was my freshman year of college and four of us seminarians were out on the

town. By out on the town, I mean that we made the 25 mile trek to the

nearest sign of monk-free civilization, the booming metropolis of Maryville,

Missouri.

Maryville had three things to offer: a Walmart, the Mandarin Chinese

restaurant, and an airplane-hangar-turned-movie-theater. As we piled into a car

to drive back to the high brick towers of the abbey, there was a palpable sense

of dreariness to it all. It was dark and the rainflow was somewhere between

drizzle and actual-rain. It was like the clouds were spitting on you.

Driving those rural Missouri roads was always fun. The hills were quite

substantial, enough to get some serious air if the driver was going just a wee


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bit over the speed limit. That night, however, Simeon was driving, and that

meant we were going a wee bit under.

Up ahead, on the left side of the road, I could see the bell towers in the

distance, rising on the horizon, while on the left, to my surprise, I saw twotowers of light. They were emanating from the ground, and a sinking feeling

formed in the pit of my stomach. Pull over, I said. Pull over! I shouted.

The wheel turned under Simeons hand as we pulled up beside what I had

feared. A pickup was there in the ditch by the road, its front end aimed outward

into the night sky. There was no one visible through the windshield. There was

no screaming. There was only silence. And a whimper. And a groan.

We looked to the ground, and there, scrambling in the dark, was a man we

could barely see, wrapped as he was in shadow. He saw us.

My legs! He shrieked, my legs are broke!

As he continued, we surveyed the situation. The man, none of whose features

we could see, had indeed broken his legs. He had crawled from his truck as a

soldier does when he stays really low behind the bushes. His arms had dragged

him there, his elbows digging in the dirt.

I saw a house a few hundred feet away. I sprinted. I ran. I pounded on the

door. An old man opened and I showed him the truck. He called emergency

dispatch. They sent an ambulance.

It was at that moment the story really began. As I ran back to where the man

laid in the grass, I noticed my friend Max with a rosary in his hand. That was his

instinct. How I wished then, and wish today, that my first instinct was to pray!

Simeon joined him, and talked with the man between Aves.

I opened my umbrella and held it over the man to keep him dry while I got

soaked.

Jeff, my flakey, slightly quirky friend, began to talk to the man. As I heard Jeff

asking him about his family, his life, I heard two conversations taking place over

that silent backdrop of rural Missouri.

Hail Mary, full of grace


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So what do you do for a living?

blessed are you among women

Im a student at the college in Maryville.

Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God

What kinds of things do you enjoy?

and at the hour of our death

I realized that this might not seem like the best time for this poor man to hear

about the hour of our death. I tried to quiet Max down a little. He always was

a little clumsy with his tact. I had grown fond of that. I spent the next half hour

trying to quiet him down, but it only got worse. Between decades, he would

interject (quite loudly, I might add), Dear Lord, please dont let this mans soul

go to hell!

When the ambulance finally arrived, I watched as they pulled out a stretcher.

When they approached, I moved out of the way and the first drops of water in

thirty minutes fell on that mans face. The EMTs flashed a light over him to

assess the situation. Sure enough, two broken legs, but for once that evening,

we saw him in the face. The man for whom we had played the good samaritans

was wearing a fratboy hat with an FBI (Female Body Inspector) t-shirt and aring of the Masonic Order.

I was floored. For a fleeting moment, I even felt anger, that I had been so kind

to someone I judged was clearly in sin, but I dismissed the anger. God was

teaching me a lesson that night. He was teaching me many lessons.

Go and learn the meaning of the words, I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I did not come to call the

righteous but sinners. -Matthew 9:13

I have often thought back and reflected on that night when I find myself being

judgmental or feeling betrayed, as I once felt at the thought of helping someoneI found so disagreeable.

I also now know that sometimes I need to let the guy praying the rosary do it

as loud as he wants, come what may. Who was I to assume God wouldnt use


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that moment to remind him of his last end, and to call him to

conversion. F rater, memento mori.

I also know that God puts in every place at every time those people He needs to

accomplish His will. For this man, He provided four seminarians in a car. One to

stoop down and keep him dry. I am now a teacher. One to speak to him and

ease his mind. Jeff is now a counselor. One to lead us in prayer. Max is now, Im

happy to say, Fr. Max. One to do many things. Simeon, Im afraid, Ive fallen

out of touch with.

Four men on a dark, rainy night, set out for home, and, God-willing, set another

man on the road to his.

it was a dark, rainy night

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