I read the saddest prayer
request recently. It said, in part,
“__’s
son __ took his own life last
Saturday. ___had a bad accident a
few years ago and was paralyzed and wheelchair dependent. His anguish is over.
. .”
All I could think of was loss:
•
loss of someone’s precious son
•
loss of the opportunity to minister to this man
•
loss of the opportunity to educate him about the possibilities his
wheelchair afforded him
And I thought of the wording of
this request, “his anguish is over.” Why
does the world regard life in a wheelchair as anguish? Why are we “wheelchair dependent” and not
liberated by our wheelchairs?
I thought back to when I first
started using a wheelchair, nearly thirteen years ago. I was so blessed to have angels who guided me
into the process; Lupita and Santiago, who prepared me for life in a wheelchair
before I actually got one, and Jill, who modeled life in a wheelchair every
day.
When I first realized I might
have to live life in a wheelchair, I fought the idea. I was struggling with a walker, telling
myself and everyone around me that it was “temporary.” The reality was that I was in terrible pain,
that I could walk only a few feet before I had to stop and sit and give my back
and knees a rest. At the end of class I
had to struggle back to my apartment and rest with ice on my knees and tears in
my eyes.
Santiago and Lupita looked at
me and asked, “What if this isn’t temporary?
You need to think about what you will do.” And they showed me how they arranged their home
and did their chores and got around in their wheelchairs. Santiago drove and had a service dog, two
things I hadn’t thought about. I admired
their practicality, and the way they didn’t let anything get in their way, but
found a way to work around everything.
When I got my chair, I realized
it was a blessing. I was no longer in so
much pain. I could get places much
faster than I could in a walker. I used
to walk fast, and now I could ride fast!
My friends joked I would get a speeding ticket.
My friend Jill fought the norms
and stereotypes to become a teacher in 1968, despite becoming a quadriplegic
following a ski accident. She was also
an artist and philanthropist, raising tens of thousands of dollars for Native
American scholarships. She was also the
first person to volunteer for the mentoring program our church started in the
1990s. She once said, “I never thought
of myself as a different person because of the accident.” She also drove and I’d see her van around
town as she did some shopping or sketching.
Perhaps we should consider
forming “angel groups” in our churches to welcome new wheelchair users, and
others dealing with new disabilities into the fold. I keep wondering what would have happened to
__ if someone had been his angel, his encourager, had helped him into
the land of disability and opened his eyes to the new possibilities that
awaited him.
We also need to work on the
attitudes of those around us. I remember
comments about my “giving up” or “not praying hard enough,” questions about
when I was going to “get better,” many expressions of sympathy for the tragedy
that had overtaken my life. Some assumed
I couldn’t continue in ministry. Many
assumed my life was over. We must change
this mindset!
“This is my commandment,
that you love one another as I have loved you.
John 15:12 NRSV
Dear Lord, Help us. Help us to recognize the pain in others’
hearts, and to reach out in love and understanding. Help us to share each person’s worth and
value, and celebrate their role in our human family. Each of us has a part to play, has something
to give. Help us lift up and encourage
each other to be your servants in this world.
Amen.
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