Helder came to visit me one fine Fall morning in the middle of a cul-de-sac at a busy construction site where I worked. I was the supervisor of a finish carpentry crew, and he was there to meet me. I was wearing a full double leather tool belt full of hand tools, jingling together as I walked. Walking toward one another, at the point where we were only a few feet apart, Helder raised his open right hand in greeting…and when my eyes opened, I was lying on my back on the asphalt—tools scattered about. I saw his face, bending over me—and asking if I was ok. Apologetically, he said, “We can talk more about this sometime if you would like. It is how the Great Spirit greets some on occasion. I’m not sure why, but it do get our attention.”

• • •

Passerby, you may recall me telling you how difficult my after-military homecoming was. I was a mess. In my early 20s, I traveled to Southern California on business, where I visited with my older brother in San Diego. On the way from the airport, he stopped by the church they attended to drop something off while I waited outside. Actually, I refused to go into my brother’s church because I really did not want to have anything to do with the church or with god. Both had betrayed me.

Later, as I was sitting alone in my brother’s living room while they prepared dinner, the Spirit spoke, saying, “Is it good for you to sit here pouting?” My physical response to Her question was to lose control of my body. No matter how I tried, I couldn’t raise my arms or stand. I was terrified. I called for my brother, and the Spirit said, “You are to return to the Church where you were earlier. I will meet you there.”

My brother helped me to the car since I could not walk, and once there had to almost carry me to the alter—since I was shaking so badly—where I fell onto all fours. By this time, I was terrified and sobbing. Asking if he could pray for me, my brother knelt in front of me and reached out his hands to place on my shoulders—only he never reached me.

He reported later that it was as though a hand was placed on his chest and threw him backward onto his back; the lights dimmed, and he lay there laughing. I wasn’t laughing.

I landed on my back as well. Trembling, crying, speaking incoherently, arms raised toward the ceiling, and still unable to move. She said, “Rest, lie still.” Since I could do nothing else, I did as She said.

After some time, my brother crawled over and said, “You have control over the ‘speaking in tongues.’ You can start and stop again as you like.” He had some experience with such things and had a religious language for these events. He explained later that I had been ‘baptized in the Holy Spirit, ’ which was not uncommon in those days.