Beginnings and Endings
Beginnings and endings are where we wrestle the most.
Our struggles center around creation and death.
So many days my breath is taken away by your creation.
The mountains, trees, lakes and the sun glistening off the Sound.
It’s curious, though, this fascination.
I see so much beauty in the nature you created,
but when I look in the mirror I don’t see the same.
Instead, I see a God that was absent.
You knit me together in my mother’s womb, right?
You tell me that know the number of hairs on my head,
but you missed the arms.
Were you there?
Did you miss me passing by on the conveyor belt of life?
Or, did you actually choose to create me this way?
“It was not because of his sins or his parents’ sins,”
you answered, when asked why a man was born blind.
“This happened so the power of God could be seen in him.”
I’m not comfortable with a God so sadistic and selfish.
But, maybe that’s who you are.
Or, maybe you’re loving and you grieve my wounded body alongside me.
So many of my questions for the Creator remain unanswered.
Death is the other bookend that leaves me struggling with you.
You took her so young; only 54 when the cancer consumed her.
She was my best friend and I was Grandma’s Little Angel.
So many traits I’ve inherited from her – enjoyment of flowers and planting,
and foods that I could have only learned to love from her.
My Grandma Phyllis was not perfect, but her love for me was.
I miss her.
An impression is made on a young boy feeling so frightened;
helpless to aid his Grandma “Phil” while she lay convulsing from seizures.
Not able to open a door or to reach the phone.
To not be able to do anything for a friend in need sets you down a path;
a path to never be caught off guard again.
So, I’ve learned to be prepared,
to not get too attached,
to not give my heart fully.
Because if I do, you may take that away from me again.
Stuck between beginnings and endings is where I live.
A frightened boy, living in a wounded body.
Afraid to make a move, scared to take a risk.
Paralyzed by the fear that you won’t meet me there.
Yet, you’ve met me so many times.
You’ve brought me safely thus far,
So bring me safely again.
Lord, let things end so that you can create anew.
What Gives?
At some point all of us hit a wall. For me, at this moment in time, that wall is a lack of time and energy. Part of it, I suspect, is the factor of age catching up with me. I’m 32 years old– not aged, but I’m certainly lacking in the way I used to be able to keep up with a fast pace of life with little sleep. Looking back on my first years of grad school, I honestly don’t know how I did it. By doing the simple math I don’t see a scenario where I’d have gotten more than 4-5 hours of sleep every night in between the 50+ hour work weeks, classes, studying and writing papers.
Now I’m older and I’m recognizing that my energy level is lower than it was a decade ago and I’ve got to figure out what I can let go of in order to survive. Again, I think all of us resonate with this tipping point and have dealt with it in varying degrees in our lifetime. Have you ever experienced this? Are you trying to figure out what you can let go of at this moment? If so, I’d love to hear about it. I suspect that we all deal with this — arms or no arms. So, let me know what you’re experiencing on the journey.
There are a couple key factors about my disability that I think have brought me to this point:
1. The amount of time that it takes me to do things as a man without arms is longer than if I had arms. For example, I type with my feet at around 31 words per minute. This is certainly slower than most folks who’ve had 20 years of typing experience. Typing using two toes will lead to much slower performance than a person who involves ten fingers in the process. Simply put, I will always be slower at certain functions in life.
That’s a hard fact for me to swallow. Humility has never been a strong suit of mine. I’ve always had the mindset that I could keep up, persevere, work harder and out-do you. Dammit, if I lag behind it’s my fault! I’d be a rich man if I had a dollar for every time I’ve heard this phrase run through my head: “Just put in the extra effort and you’ll show ‘em.”
2. The amount of effort that is required for me to perform certain daily tasks drains my energy faster than it should. Every morning I walk from the bedroom to the bathroom to take a shower. That’s not something that I can see taking more energy than it does for a person with arms. However, standing on one leg to reach up to pull the knob to turn the water on might. And, while sitting on a shower stool, putting shampoo on my right right foot and leaning over to reach the top and back of my head in order to scrub surely does require more energy than you reaching your hand to your head.
Again, this is a hard thing for me to grasp. It wasn’t until a friend suggested this example that I even recognized that what I do every day takes more energy on my part than if I had arms — probably multiplied a hundred times over the course of a day.
So, day-to-day activities takes me more time and require more energy than it does for someone with arms. Great! What do I do now? Seems like a crappy realization.
Facts are facts, though. Now what do I do about it? There seems to be so much to be accomplished in a day or a week, so what do I do if I don’t have the time or energy to accomplish it all? My conclusion is that I’ve got to give something up. And, that’s where I stand tonight.
Here’s my list of significant daily and weekly activities:
- Work
- Cooking class
- Cleaning and laundry
- Errands and grocery shopping
- Taking care of my cat (feeding, cleaning litter box, petting, playing)
- Reading
- Just relaxing
- Relationship with friends
- Church and time with God
- Writing this blog
- Keeping up with personal e-mails and social networking sites
- Grad school classes (not this quarter, but coming up soon)
Those are the major things. Obviously there are others. But, most of these seem necessary. So, what gives?
I’m trying to figure that out right now. I’ve always wanted to impress everyone, so what happens if I choose to let one or two of those things go? What if my condo is a complete disaster next time you visit? What if I feel like staying home on a Sunday morning is more restful than going to church? What if I tell you that I simply don’t have time to get together this week? There’s a lot of what-ifs…
I’m scared, honestly. I’m not sure what skipping any of these tasks will lead to. Maybe the point is that once I give a couple up I’ll recognize that none of them are necessary in order for me to be in relationship with you.
I guess we’re going to find out! There are some things that I seemingly have to do to in order to sustain life — feed my cat, get groceries, work to get a paycheck, etc. But, others really aren’t that necessary. We’ll see what happens.
A Weekend of Lessons
This past Friday I made my way from the wet side of the state, over the mountains and to dry and windy Kennewick. Tomorrow marks my grandfather’s 80th birthday, while my dad’s 60th is today. Happy birthday to two great men!
Grandpa, Dad and my nephew Braden
It’s been great to be back here for a family reunion of sorts and to enjoy family from up and down the West coast. This past Saturday we gathered to honor my grandfather’s 80th birthday with a surprise party. He was totally shocked, as the setup had been that he was attending a surprise party for my dad! We had fun, told stories and laughed together – it was a day of hallelujahs.
But, more importantly, I was impacted by several things this weekend and here are the main lessons I’ve learned over these past few days:
- 80 years is a long time, but longevity is not the measurement of a man. My grandfather was an adventurer, a successful business man and a man who has built a beautiful home and maintains a meticulous yard and garden. But, those things do not define Bob Perry. It was clear that it is the bonds of family and friends that mark this selfless man’s story. So many people told of his efforts to help them in times of need – mowing lawns, roofing houses, helping with car repairs.
For me, it was his endless hours spent with me after leg-lengthening surgeries through tumultuous teenage years. Not only was he there, he cleaned pins in my legs, made me do physical therapy exercises and took trips to doctor appointments in Seattle with my mom and I. To be aware of needs around you and selfless enough to help is the true measure of life.
- All of us need to be surprised once in a while. Not too many of us thought we’d pull it of, but my grandfather showed up expecting a party for my dad’s 60th. He had no idea we’d pulled the old switcheroo on him. The look on his face as he came through the door was priceless!
I tend to anticipate everything as to not be caught off guard and it runs in the family. As my mom and I arrived ahead of the party she said, “I sure hope he shows a little excitement or emotion when he arrives.” But, then she added, “I don’t show that often, so we’ll see if he does.” The moments of surprise and spontaneity are the most memorable to me and this was a great reminder of my need to be surprised and caught off guard.
- The bonds of family can make you laugh harder than you have in months. The grandkids on this side of the family all got together for drinks later in the evening and the stories and jokes that were told were priceless. Even though we may not all be together that often, the laughter flowed and we had a tremendous time!
- ALWAYS show up for an important family gathering. If you don’t, you may end up being the center of attention for the wrong reasons. Looking good, Uncle Ron!
- I took a couple days of work in order to extend my time with family. My brother, sister-in-law and their kids are also staying at my parents’ house this weekend and the kids’ moments of love, disappointment, joy and play are amazing things to witness. My niece and nephew continue to show me what it truly means to be alive – something many of us adults forgot how to do years ago. I hope to take a little of their passion back to Seattle with me today!
- Getting work done with so many family members is difficult, even more so without internet access. That’s the reason for this delayed post. And, it will be the reason that I return to work tomorrow having not completed a single task over the long weekend. But, as I learned from Grandpa this week, people won’t remember me for completing the org chart. Instead, hopefully it will be a weekend remembered for connection and relationship.
- Leaving doesn’t gets easier with time. Saying good-bye to family members today was as hard as ever, especially when my darling niece and nephew are involved. It was a bit hard seeing through the tears for the first mile or two.
- The sunsets is eastern Washington are breath-taking.
A Level Playing Field
Last week I read an article in Sojourners magazine by Rose Marie Berger titled “On the Seventh Day, God Played.” (You can view the article here. Free registration is required.) Just by the title of the article you get a sense of her main points: that we don’t rest and play enough; and that we need to incorporate play into our lives more if we want to imitate God.
Granted, I was on vacation when I read this — a vacation that was filled with rest and play. But, the point remains pertinent to me tonight as I feel like writing a blog post is the final thing to check-off my to do list for the weekend. The concept that play is holy and necessary is freeing. You mean I don’t always have to be productive?
Within the article Stuart Brown, a researcher on play, says there are seven properties that identify play:
1. is done for its own sake
2. is voluntary
3. has an inherent attraction
4. involves freedom from time
5. involves diminished self-consciousness
6. involves improvisational potential
7. involves the desire to keep doing it
No, doing the dishes or laundry is not play!
As Berger notes in her article, Christians often fail the worst at incorporating play into their lifestyles. “The ‘Protestant work ethic’,” she says, “has left us with a slight religious distaste for fun.” So, some of us have that working against us.
But, I find that I often have another thing working against me as a man born without arms. The best I can describe the feeling is that I feel like I live life “working from a deficit.” In other words, due to my disability I often feel like I need to put in more effort (or play less) in order to make up for what I lack physically. I type slower than some others, so I need to work extra hours to make up for that. I need your help to replace a light bulb in my condo, so I do all I can to help you in other ways to make up for it. You may think less of me due to my lack of arms, so I’ll make sure my car, house or work space is clean in order to impress you. Sounds crazy, huh? When you feel less than those around you, you’ll do interesting things to compensate for it.
The good news is that I’ve begun to recognize that within myself these past few years and I combat against it (yes, it’s that violent of a fight) often. Here are a few ways I allow myself to rest and play, instead of doing more to make up for the perceived deficit of my disability:
- Being cognizant of what is being done as a “to do” versus what gives me energy and life. An example of this comes from my recent vacation to San Diego. On my final day there I had planned to go to Balboa Park. However, I’d stayed up late on the weekend nights and was worn out. So, play meant giving up the experience of Balboa Park in favor of a slower day of sleeping in, taking my time packing up and reading by the pool.
- Limiting the number of hours at the office, whenever possible. We’re all busier than ever at work due to the down economy, but more and more I find myself choosing to play and rest instead of working over the weekends. Matter of fact, I brought this laptop home from the office with the intent to work over the weekend. Other than booking hotel reservations late last night, I’ve avoided work all together. It will be there when I get to the office tomorrow. I may need to work evenings this week to make up for it, but I rested this weekend and that fills my soul for the week ahead.
- Discovering hobbies. As a child I don’t recall too many times of outright play. There were neighborhood games and watching sports, but so much of my memories are of homework, church activities, chores, etc. It wasn’t until a few years ago that I realized I didn’t have any hobbies! So, I’ve begun playing by trying out different things. This blog and the process of telling my story is one. I took a wine class last year and this fall I’m enrolled in a cooking class. I’m learning to try different activities in order to see if they’ll become hobbies.
I still don’t play as well as I’d like to. The fact that scraping out three items for the list above was difficult should be adequate proof of that! But, I’m working on it. I mean, playing on it. It’s the one area where we’re all on a level playing field.
All Sort of Crazily Beautiful
I borrowed the title of this post from a sentence in Bird by Bird, a book on writing and life by Anne Lamott. In the chapter called Polaroids she speaks of the need to show up and be present — for writing assignments, specifically; but for life in general. Lamott recalls attending a Special Olympics event in the Bay area, where she lives, with no idea what she’d write about for her upcoming newspaper article. After lunch she wandered into the gym and found a basketball game being played. “In lieu of any scoring,” she says, “the men stampeded in slow motion up and down the court, dribbling the ball thunderously. I had never heard such a loud game. It was all sort of crazily beautiful.”
As I walked around San Diego yesterday, taking in the warm weather and experiencing a new city, I couldn’t help but think the same thing of my life recently.
A few weeks ago I wrote of my need to begin to wrestle with God, especially involving issues around my disability. 32 years into my life I’ve finally begun to engage in questions around my creation as a man without arms (as well as severe problems with my left leg). Last weekend was a rough time for me — mostly due to that wrestling. It was packed with true feeling and emotion — something that I rarely stay present for. I tend to limit my emotions, good or bad, in order to stay on an even keel.
So, two main points of Lamott’s chapter struck me as being very poignant:
1. Showing up and staying present — It’s going to take times in the valley in order for me to appreciate the mountain top experiences like I’m having this week. I hate this. I’ve perfected the art of pushing away anger, emotions and truly feeling. To stay present, as Anne Lamott wrote about, takes a lot of work on my part. But, that presence is what makes things so good and so bad at the same time.
Rarely do I show up with all I am, and even when I do, I can shut down quickly at the moment feelings start to appear. It’s a fear of the wellspring of emotions that may come flowing out if I really plumb their depths. They’ve been kept down for over three decades and they’ve built up a lot of pressure over that time. To start to open up that well is scary, but I’m doing my best to start exploring what’s down there — as ugly or toxic as it may be.
On the positive side of things, it means breathing in the ocean air, smelling the scents of the city (not all of them pleasant) and noticing faces. I did this well yesterday. I was noticing the stares, hearing the comments from kids as I passed by and truly engaging with folks when the opportunity presented itself. Being fully present led to a great day.
2. Beauty does not mean perfection — Perfection is what so many of us strive to present to others, no matter how unrealistic everyone knows it is. That’s the paradox of facades — those of us presenting them are often the only ones who can’t see through them. Meanwhile, the rest of the world sees us for who we really are — struggling and stumbling.
Obviously the Special Olympics basketball game that Lamott wrote about was not played at the NBA level. But the moment that the one and only basket of the game was made, she explains, “The crowd roared, and all the men on both teams looked up wide-eyed at the hoop, as if it had burst into flames.” To an outsider, there was nothing spectacular about that 2-0 game. But, to those wrapped up in the drama and the struggle, that moment was pure bliss. It was beauty at its finest!
My life has not been perfect and neither has the past week. It’s been rough. But, walking around on a glorious day in San Diego yesterday I could only say to myself that life has been crazily beautiful as of late. Just as it has been for the past 32 years.
Struggling, staying present and living beautifully is what we’ve been called to — each and every one of us. As I was reminded by an atheist (ironically) this past weekend, “maybe it’s God’s glory” shining through. It’s not perfection and it’s nowhere near that — but I’m beginning to see how brilliant, yet difficult, this life can be when I allow myself to wrestle, stay present and persist in the muck of life.
Is it okay to laugh?
When I watched this Saturday Night Live (SNL) skit earlier this week I laughed heartily at several points. I’m a fan of SNL, particularly the segment called Weekend Update. Weekend Update is filmed as a standard news desk segment with “reporters” giving their take on current news and political items. After all, real life often offers itself as better comedy than fiction!
This particular segment of the Weekend Update focused on New York’s Governor David Paterson. Paterson, a blind man, was serving as the Lieutenant Governor when Eliot Spitzer was discovered to be hiring high-priced prostitutes and was forced into the role of Governor after Spitzer resigned. Recently he’s been in the news due to pressure from the White House to not seek reelection when the seat comes up in 2010 due to low polling numbers. Check out the video here (right after the commercial):
Even as I just watched the video again I laughed out loud at several jokes about Governor Paterson’s blindness. Admittedly, visions of him zig-zagging up the capitol steps and shaking hands with statues were hilarious!
But, this video also raises the question of when it’s okay to laugh at someone with a disability or to joke about the limitations of their disability when it comes to how they interact with society? In short, should I have been laughing like I was?
I’m rather conflicted on my opinion in regards to jokes around disability. So, here are several points I offer for consideration:
- There’s something about being in a public position that opens you up for jokes and you’ve got to have thick skin to be in the public sphere. If SNL would have picked a blind guy out of the crowd and started making fun of him, that would have been offensive. (Even as it was, you likely recognized a discomfort in the laughter of the crowd after the initial joke about Governor Paterson’s blindness. It was the zig-zag joke, if I recall.)
- Comedy is fair if the person exhibits traits that resemble the joke. For example, Jib-Jab released a video during the presidential election that portrayed Barack Obama running through the forest with unicorns and rainbows spouting messages of hope. Or, The Daily Show offered a skit with John McCain aimlessly wandering around the set of a town hall. Both were very funny due to the nature of both men — in that each would have to own that they actually resembled the parodies at times. I’ve yet to watch much video of Mr. Paterson, so I’m not sure how he acts. But, I’m concerned that the SNL skit does not accurately depict his actions, but is setting up the jokes on the basis that all blind people are oblivious and unaware of their surroundings.
- We all need to laugh and take ourselves less seriously. Those of you who know me recognize that I laugh loudly and often. I believe we all need to take ourselves more lightly and not be so upset by how people are politically correct or not. However, people with disabilities do have the right to express dissatisfaction if something offends or upsets them.
- I do know that Governor Paterson and blindness advocates have raised concerns over past SNL skits involving this topic. Because of that, I believe SNL owes it to Mr. Paterson, individually, and the blind community as a whole to be very careful around these types of jokes. In my opinion, jokes about disability require buy-in from those you’re making jokes about. For example, a group of co-workers and I made a video that centered around the fact that I had no arms. It was fine because there was buy-in on my part. If there had not been, then I would have had major issues with it.
- Finally, there’s something about able-bodied people making jokes about disabled individuals that doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t make a racial joke about my friend Keeley. But, as an African American, he can. Same could be said for jokes about someone’s weight, religious beliefs, etc. Yes, it seems like a double-standard. But, it’s the right of a person with a disability to joke about their situation. That does not give you the right to joke about it in the same way, though.
What are your thoughts on this topic? I’d be curious to get others’ opinions on the matter at hand.
As you’ve seen, I have a perfectly conflicted opinion on the comedy in the video above. All I can offer, in summary, is that each of us needs to be more aware of issues such as disability in the comedy we are part of and that we encounter in our media.
I need help
There. I said it. The three words in the title of this post constitute one of the least used phrases in my life! That is until now.
I was raised in a family environment that led me to be fiercely independent and that approach to life has served me well as I’ve taken on difficult tasks throughout my life. The Little Engine That Could was one of the books I read most as a child and I learned that I could do anything that I put my mind to. Writing with my feet? Check. Driving? Check. Graduating from college? Check. Living alone? Check. You get the picture — check, check, check. No problem.
Well, now I’m on to a new task. Learning that no man is an island — especially one without arms. Check… almost.
Within the past year I’ve begun to take the risk of asking people for help. Flat out strangers, at times. I’m not used to this and it makes me uncomfortable. I could continue to avoid the risk by declining offers of help and remaining as stubborn as ever. But, it’s time for a change.
I have no idea how most of you view me and my independence from a distance. For some reason I imagine that many of you think I’ve got things all figured out and that I rarely find day-to-day tasks difficult. “Is there anything you can’t do?,” I’ve been asked several times. Yes, there are many things I can’t do (or, at least that I can’t do without great difficulty). I’ve just become very good at hiding those things.
Sorry to disappoint you. There are no back-flips to grab a box of crackers from the top shelf at the grocery store; I have to ask for help to retrieve them. I don’t carry big boxes on my head. And, yes, I have to get help from my parents or friends to shop at tougher stores like Costco. I’m not Superman. I decided to burn my cape recently.
This past Friday evening I drove from Seattle to eastern Washington to visit my parents in Kennewick. It’s a three and a half hour drive that I’ve completed many times, most of them by myself. This time I was late getting out of work (shocker, I know) and I ended up stopping for dinner at Arby’s in North Bend. Now, in the past, I would have placed my order and would have gone about the difficult task of filling my soda at the fountain and then retrieving items like napkins and a straw from the dispensers. This time, though, I decided to make it easier on myself by asking the employee that took my order for help. He graciously came out from behind the counter to fill my drink, get utensils and condiments, and retrieve my food.
(One of the hidden benefits of asking for help more often is that I’m beginning to experience the grace and generosity of those around me. It doesn’t happen all the time, but most of my risks have been met with smiles and offers for further assistance if needed. Sure there are the awkward, uncomfortable folks that have no idea how to relate to me when I ask for help for something like retrieving an item in a grocery store. But, this makes for the sighs and hallelujahs of asking for help.)
For those able-bodied folks out there, I know the task of knowing when to offer help can be a difficult one when relating to those with disabilities. Within the past week I was offered help by a neighbor to get my mail out of my mail slot. When I responded, “No, thanks. I’ve got it,” while simultaneously scattering a stack of mail across the ground after dropping it, he seemed very confused. He almost looked offended. But, I was in one of my moods that night and I was going to prove that I could do it! No one said I’ve perfected this new art of asking for or receiving help.
The best advice I can offer you is to gently offer assistance. You may get a determined look and a stern, “No thanks,” but you were kindhearted. A bad response to help is no reflection on you. At least you tried.
The best offer for help I’ve received was on a recent flight when a woman and her young daughter settled in beside me for our trip from Seattle to Chicago. We exchanged the standard pleasantries (where are you headed, etc.) and then I began to turn my cell phone off, get gum and pull my IPod from my bag. Upon seeing this, the woman offered her help in this way. “You look to have got everything figured out. But, if you need anything throughout the flight please just let me know. If you don’t ask me for help, though, I’ll just stay out of your way.” This was one of the most kind and thoughtful offers for help I’d ever received — and I took her up on her offer for help once or twice during our flight.
So, how about we make a deal? I’ll promise to ask for help more often if you promise to engage those around you (disabled or not) by offering help more often. We’d all be so much better off if we offered and accepted help more often.
I may not admit it very often. But, I’m telling you right now — I need help.
Move that bus!
I’ll admit it. I’m addicted to one of TV’s most emotionally-manipulative shows, Extreme Makeover: Home Edition. You likely know the show by the screaming host (Ty Pennington), the demolition of a house and the inevitable tears from the family when they see their new home. (Nevertheless the tears from all of us who watch the show!)
Extreme Makeover: Home Edition is somewhat formulaic. First, the family tends to have at least one member with a physical disability. Whether it’s an asthmatic in a house with toxic mold, a recently-paralyzed dad in the multistory house or a child with special needs, a story is told about how the current home severely limits the ability of its inhabitants to live a full life. After we hear about the needs of the family and they depart for vacation, the demolition of the old house begins. There’s something great about watching an old, unaccommodating house being destroyed!
After the house is gutted, the design team gets to work with the surrounding community in order to build a new home that is specifically suited for the needs and desires of the family. Every aspect of the house is redesigned in order to make life easier for those who live there, including special touches that seek to heal the emotional wounds of the homeowners. At the end of the show, the family returns to their home town and arrives at the site of their new home. But, their view of the house is always shielded by a large touring bus so that the house will be revealed only after those gathered chant, “Move that bus!” The music crescendos and we see the faces and tears of each family member as they see a home that is too good to be true. Within minutes they are touring their new home that has been meticulously built for their unique needs.
This show resonates with me for several reasons. First, there is the commonality around disability. Although I successfully live alone in a standard condo with no special design features, I recognize how a home could be severely limiting. These are always extreme cases that, at times, threaten the lives of the family members living there. I’m nowhere near that level in my situation, but I can empathize with those in need of a home that works for them.
I also appreciate that the design team always researches and hears the specific needs of each individual in the family. You may say, “The show is about meeting the needs of the family, right? So, of course they seek to meet them.” Yes, but people with disabilities live their lives being flexible and doing whatever necessary to survive and react to a society that rarely seeks to meet their needs. To be listened to is a big deal; to have your home rebuilt to meet your special needs is quite another.
Finally, this show is all about redemption. It’s about moving a family that was in darkness to a place of light and hope, simply by constructing a new home around their specific needs. I have no doubt that the looks of shock, the tears of joy and the smiles are real when the home is revealed. What an unbelievable transformation — these families’ lives have been significantly changed in the matter of seven days!
At a larger level, I recognize what it’s like to live in a world that was not built for a man without arms and I hope for redemption. I long for the day when my needs will be heard and understood — and, furthermore, that those longings will be met. (Now, you can start praying that I’ll grow arms — you wouldn’t be the first — but, those old ladies’ prayers weren’t answered and I’m not sure I’d know what to do with arms even if they dramatically appeared.)
Simply put, I long for heaven. One day I’ll stand with the angels and those gone ahead of me and this will be our earnest plea — “God, move that bus!!!” I’ll yell it with all my might and I fully expect tears as my new home is revealed — a home where a disability no longer limits me in any way.
I commit
The weather has dramatically changed in Seattle these past few days, with clouds, rain, wind and thunderstorms rolling through the area. I’m sad to see the sun and warmer weather go, but I’m excited for a new season. It’s football season! A season of limited daylight and turbulent weather. A slower season for me personally, without a grad school class until Spring quarter. A time for me to read, take a cooking class, commune with friends and to wrestle with God.
This past month and a half has been a busy and stressful time for me. And, you’ve likely noticed that my posts have been sparse. There are certainly seasons in life and this is one that I’m glad to be done with.
This changing season opens up new opportunities and challenges for me. Here are a couple I want you to know about so that we can continue on this journey together:
1. I commit to write at least one blog post per week. Hopefully it will be more frequent than that, but there will be one per week at a minimum. This is a challenge that my friend and colleague, Jeff Brooks, gave me a several days ago as we discussed the discipline of writing and story-telling — and I think it’s a wise step for me to take.
I’m really enjoying writing this blog and admittedly, through conversations with you all, I’m starting to have dreams and thoughts about how my story might have a bigger impact on others. Whether a vocation or not, I’m seeing how God works through my words as I share my story. Writing more and telling my story is an intimidating prospect for sure; but creating one post per week is a way for me to “steer my elephant” by taking small, actionable steps every week. At the end of one year I’ll have written 52 posts — surely enough words and thoughts to use as a skeleton to a memoir or some form of a book.
2. Additionally, I commit to God to wrestle with Him more. If there is one thing that is exceptionally clear to me these past few months it is that I’ve failed to fully engage in the emotions and frustrations that apprehend me daily as a man born without arms. Wes Stafford, the President & CEO of Compassion International, spoke at the Willow Creek Leadership Conference last month and his topic was leading through the pain of your past. He told a very disturbing and moving story of his childhood as a missionary kid in Africa and how that exceptional pain has compelled him to commit his life to helping children. “No one cares what you know until they know why you care,” he said. Well, the reason I care about the issues of disability (that I’ve begun to explore here) is that God created me with a body that makes my life difficult at times. And, in that alone, there are many questions.
Guaranteed, some of that wrestling with God will spill out into this blog. There are areas of my life that are very sensitive and those will remain between Him and I for now. But, I want this space to serve as a realistic and honest place. I could easily create an entire blog that radiated with hope and that literally glowed with optimism. People love that stuff and, honestly, it’s a simple message that the church eats up! But, that’s not my life — and I doubt it’s your reality, either. Because of that, I must wrestle with God as Jacob did. Welcome to ringside!
Finally, Sunday evening will be my deadline for the weekly post. So check back every Monday and expect to see something new. I hope you’ll continue to interact with what I explore here, as that’s the part I enjoy the most. And, feel free to wrestle through life’s issues and struggles with me.
The season is changing to Fall — and that’s where simple beliefs die and blow away in preparation for a future season of growth and possibility. Let the rains come and the winds blow.
No-Armed Restaurants?
Next week I travel to Chicago for my first visit to Feeding America (formerly America’s Second Harvest), my new client at work. Although I’ve been to Chicago on business a few times, I’ve yet to spend a significant amount of time in the city as my other client is located about 45 minutes outside of downtown in Palos Heights. I’m excited to meet the folks I’m now working with and it will be great to travel out there with a team of co-workers who’ve been to Chicago many times and can show me around a bit.
As this client has visited our Seattle office in years past, members of their leadership team have seen me and may have even met me in passing — so they are aware that I don’t have arms. As I began to work with them weeks ago, that word spread quickly and their entire team knows now. (You may think it’s an odd thing to discuss, but it’s very helpful for myself and others ahead of meeting. It limits the awkward attempts to shake my hand and alleviates the unease and embarrassment that follows.) In preparing for this trip out, we included a client dinner on the agenda and asked one of our client contacts to make reservations.
Well, through the grapevine, I heard that this person was a bit nervous about picking a restaurant that would suit my situation. To her credit, she wanted to select a location that was favorable to me eating with my feet and she was nervous about picking a place that might not work for me — an incredibly kind gesture on her part. However, if you’ve seen me, you’ll quickly recognize that my disability doesn’t cause me to miss meals!
My co-workers and I joked that we should tell the woman in charge of the reservations that there was one restaurant in every major city that was setup to accommodate people with no arms! “Hopefully she can figure out which one it is,” I offered.
When I discussed this with a different client contact, she offered, “If there was a restaurant for people without arms, would the rest of us be allowed to join you for dinner?” “Good question,” I replied. “All I know is that I’d love it, though. Finally you all would be the ones being stared at!”
