Hard Times

Well, folks, it's clear we've fallen on hard times. We've experiencing an economic crisis, people are out of work, people's homes are being repossessed, some people have even ended up on the street hungry. There's no doubt about it, the headlines are screaming trouble every day.

Here in the State of Washington we are having a budget crisis. And the Governor's office has informed us that things are going to get harder yet for the people we serve. In fact, some of the people I work with personally through Bridge programs have been informed they may be losing crucial sources of funding for housing. That's right. Some of the developmentally disabled adults we serve may end up out on the street begging for food and looking for a cardboard box to sleep in.

One man in particular who attends many of our events comes to mind. I'll call him Jim. He is in his early 40's. He is cognitively impaired. If you didn't know him, you could not tell that he is developmentally disabled immediately. However, since I have seen his records and worked with him, I am very much aware of his limitations.

Put simply, Jim does not know how to take care of himself. He would never be able to find and hold a job, find and apply for an apartment, shop and prepare meals, clean and do laundry, pay rent and bills on time, etc. He simply does not have the skills or abilities needed to carry out these complex tasks. He requires a good deal of help to negotiate the simple tasks that are required of him now. When he gets very frustrated he is inclined to explosive bouts of temper which other people find quite intimidating and do not know how to handle unless they've had special training.

Jim does not have family who can help him. Those of us who know him know with certainty that he would end up homeless in short order if he loses the benefits that pay for his housing and caregivers. And we are horrified that this course of action is even being considered by the State government. After asking questions I discovered that the reason this could happen to Jim is because the State rates him to be high functioning compared to other developmentally disabled adults that receive services. They are looking to make cuts, and they're thinking of starting by cutting services to the higher functioning folks. I can tell you right now, this is an idea that is doomed to failure.

Whether a person is higher functioning or not is immaterial. What matters is what they can and can't do. Jim can walk, he can talk, he can put his own clothes on, with proper preparation he can even ride a metro bus - sure! But does that mean he can negotiate the complexities of our modern world and take care of his own basic needs? I can promise you he cannot.

No, we don't want a candy tax, or an income tax, or higher fees. Of course, we don't. But I'll tell you what, friends, we don't want folks like Jim living in a cardboard box on the street either. So we all need to go back to the drawing board and figure something else out. Just take that idea off the table. That's not who we are. We're better than that.

The vulnerable and defenseless need us, and we can't turn our backs on them. We must remember that we are all weak and in need of assistance at times in our lives. Any one of us could end up in the same position Jim is, with people deciding whether or not we're worth helping. So let's not even go there. Of course, he is important enough to help. He is a part of us, a part of our human family. Weakness does not change that for any of us.

And as the Apostle Paul said:

"In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ”  Acts 20:35

Episodes of Transcendence

Nobody loves everything about their job. Every job has its annoyances, and my job is no exception. For one thing, there's all that darned paperwork. (Does anyone really like paperwork?) But there are benefits with this job - what I think of as 'Episodes of Transcendence'. When working with people who live with disabilities, it never fails that there will be a moment every now and then when you are guaranteed to experience pure joy.

Many examples come to mind. Like the expression on a man's face when I told him he could get a special motorized wheelchair that would take the painful pressure off his spine completely free of cost. The giddy look of excitement on a bride's face as she walked down the hall of the church toward her fiance's side to be wed by our Chaplain at one of our events. The sheer happiness in the voice of one of our Guardianship clients when he excitedly told me over and over that my son liked him simply because he'd walked over to him and said hi and shook his hand. The radiant smile of the mother of an adult son with traumatic brain injury as she expressed gratitude for the improvement in her son's spirits since they had discovered Bridge.

These moments of transcendence happen when people feel that someone cares, when they feel special, when they feel they belong. These are feelings we all desire, whether we are currently living with a disability or not. We all want to feel valued in the eyes of others. When you give someone who can't walk a wheelchair, when you give a lonely person a community that cares about them, when you look after someone who is alone in the world without family to take care of them - you are simply saying "You matter." 

Anytime a volunteer serves in whatever way they are able, or a church opens its doors in welcome, or a donor gives financial support, they are all saying to people who live with disabilities -  "You belong."  And that's a very powerful thing. I can tell you from firsthand experience - the joyful response is infectious, and its one bug I don't mind being infected with at all. So I'll keep doing the annoying paperwork, because the bennies are just too good to give up. I'm staying tuned for the next episode.

Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it. 

       - I Corinthians 12:27

Caring & Hurting

She looked so exhausted. Her haggard face told the story of her long journey as a parent of a child living with a developmental disability and the suffering that goes with it. Her body bowed under the weight of all those years of exertion. She told me of her daughter, now in her 50's, born with mental retardation. It was a tale of love and pain, caring and hurting - a lifetime of supporting a child with the mind of a toddler, who grew up unable to navigate the complex world in which we all live without 24/7 assistance.

She was obviously beyond frustrated, defeated by a system seemingly designed to confound her every attempt to arrange for proper care for her daughter. Housing, caregivers, health care - in all these areas and more her daughter kept falling through the cracks. She had done everything she could; long years of working nights and caring for her daughter days. When there was no local day school for special needs kids, she and her husband helped create one. When she lost her husband to cancer, she kept soldiering on alone. When her child was abused she did what she could to protect her. She liquefied her assets and bought a home for her. Now she was having problems getting competent, caring caregivers for what she could afford to pay. But due to property values dropping she didn't have the flexibility to sell her home or her daughter's condo. With dwindling resources, and looming challenges - she was stuck.

She was looking into the future and seeing that her time was running out. She was feeling panicky at the prospect of leaving her vulnerable daughter in the world alone - unable to fend for herself. She was looking for answers and finding there were none. At least, none that were acceptable to her as a loving parent. All she wanted was to feel secure in the knowledge that her daughter would be safe and well cared for after she was gone. But she was starting to think this was a dream that had no hope of coming true.

I asked her about the faith communities in her area, did she attend church? Did she have the support of a faith community? She told me she had no use for churches. She believes in the Lord, but she listens to preachers on the radio. I asked her why, and she told me she couldn't take her daughter to church because she was too loud and restless. She also told me that she called all the churches in the valley where she lives when her daughter was injured and could not walk. Her daughter was an adult at that point, big and heavy. She had injured herself moving her around alone. She needed help. She reached out to the local churches in desperation, but she said they did not help.

As a Christian, it made me sad to hear about her experience. But as the mother of an autistic child, I'm sorry to say - I was not surprised. She's hardly the first parent to have such experiences, and unfortunately she won't be the last. I've heard many a similar tale. In our superficial world, a person with special needs is often treated as an unsightly thing to be hidden away. We live in a world devoted to perfection, and even we Christians can get caught up in worldly values. But Jesus Christ had a different concept of perfection than what we usually see valued in the world.

In Matthew 19:21 Jesus said, "If you want to be perfect, go, sell your possessions and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven. Then come, follow me.”   

And in James 1:27 we were told, "Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world."

No guilt, but that IS what the Bible tells us. So what could I do to help this woman? Can I solve all her problems? Can I single-handedly change the world she and her daughter live in? No. Of course not. But one thing I can do is not turn away. One thing I can do is listen. One thing I can do is empathize. One thing I can do is share their story. One thing you can do is read their story. One thing we can all do is pray for them and others like them. One thing we can all do is ask the Lord to guide us and show us how to help folks like them.

Our Turn for a Change

Did you ever play that fun hand game with the rhyme: Here is the church, here is the steeple, open the door and look at all the people.

Those with disabilities seem to be in the middle of this rhyme more often than not. We know that there are a lot of people with disabilities; according to the US Government 1 in 5 people experience some form of disability. We likewise know that many of these disabilities are not visible. However, how many of us feel that our churches are filled with folks with disabilities?

Everyone has a need to fulfill the two main aspects of spirituality as expressed by Jesus and all the prominent leaders of the faith: To love God with all one's heart, mind, soul, and strength. The second, similarly, is to love others and oneself.

Simply put, this means that we all, regardless of sight, mobility, speech, hearing, or intellect, have the need for spiritual growth personally and spiritual connection socially.

This only happens if we intentionally, and with much compassion and vigor, include everyone in this pursuit of spiritual depth. Won't you reach out and share, include, invite and welcome someone with any disability to this table of acceptance and love?

Farewell Tribute to a Comrade

I've only known Bob Meyer for about two years. But I can tell you this: As regards his service to those living with disabilities, he was a giant among men.

Technically my relationship with Bob would be described as that of co-worker at Bridge Disability Ministries. But I actually thought of him as more of a comrade. You see, we were both involved in this conspiracy to change the world and make it a better place for people living with disabilities. I may not know everything there is to know about Bob, but I can tell you he worked tirelessly in service to people with mobility and other needs the entire time I knew him, and from reports I've gathered, many years before that. At Bridge he served on the board 1999-2001, and later assumed the role of Manager of our Mobility Ministry in 2007. He's been immersed in all things Mobility ever since.

Bob was diagnosed with a terminal lung disease before I even met him, yet he continued to log long hours working in Mobility until shortly before his passing. He submitted about 30 hours a week on his timesheet, but as Volunteer Administrator for Bridge for the past year, I was aware of the number of volunteer hours Bob logged as well. The numbers tell the story. In 2010 Bob logged almost 300 volunteer hours. As recently as January he logged 30.75 volunteer hours, and that was not at all unusual for him. In fact, I always had a sneaking suspicion he may not have even told me about all the volunteer hours he put in. For one thing, there were all those trips to pick up and drop off equipment at people's houses around the region on the weekends and in the evenings "on the way" somewhere. For another thing, well - I knew Bob. And he wasn't one to waste time and energy tooting his own horn.

Right up through April of this year Bob continued to log volunteer hours, even as his health steadily deteriorated. When I received the monthly Volunteer Hours report from Mobility and saw that Bob had logged 10 volunteer hours in April, I could hardly believe it. I knew how rough things were for him by that point, having seen his difficulty drawing breath for myself. When he began to require an oxygen pump to help him breathe, he just kept on going - carrying the device around in a bag slung over his shoulder. I remember seeing him huff and puff up the hill from Mobility to the main office often, and shaking my head in disbelief. And even when the time came that he could no longer come into the Mobility shop to work, I know he continued to call and email in information and work on the computer remotely until just a few weeks ago. He did everything he could to help smooth the transition for Gerry Barney as he assumed the lead position in Mobility. Bob's dedication to the Mobility Ministry was faithful indeed.

The really amazing thing I noticed about Bob right away when I met him was his energy. Bob had so much energy, he seemed unstoppable at times - especially remarkable in light of his lung disease. I've joked more than once that he reminded me of the Energizer Bunny...he kept going and going and going. He grew up an Iowa farm boy, and I always felt a connection to him because my parents were both raised on Iowa farms, as were most of my extended family. Since I had always lived in the Pacific Northwest, I never got a chance to know my extended family well. So working with Bob was kind of like having an opportunity to be around one of my uncles from Iowa; his work ethic, mannerisms and sense of humor being very familiar to me.

In his working career, Bob has been a manager of meatpacking plants (he was always good for a spam joke), a business man who owned bakeries (he was famous for his cinnamon rolls) as well as a business consultant (his idea of 'retirement'). True to his farm upbringing, he was an early to rise and early to work kind of guy. He never was one to shrink from a hard day's work. During his tenure at Mobility, he constantly labored to make the operation more efficient and productive, ever increasing the amount of mobility equipment refurbished and given to people in need. Bob was a doer.

Bob's journey brought him to the leadership position at Mobility after his retirement from the bakery business. Characteristically, his first step in retirement was to create a consulting company in order to get involved with non-profits. Yeah, I know. You're probably wondering, why didn't he just go play golf? Actually, I happen to know he enjoyed golf a lot too! But that was Bob. Not one to sit around idle, it wasn't long before he was hired to coordinate the move to our new location in 2007, and soon afterward he was hired as Mobility Manager. Thank heavens Bridge didn't let him get away!

Bob had a vision for the Mobility Ministry developed from his experience as a board member as well as his knowledge and experience in the fields of business management and plant production. With that knowledge and experience, he was able to take the bare, empty space provided in the business park where we are now located and turn it into the neat, organized and smoothly running operation it is today. He established realistic parameters for the type of equipment we could provide and a production system to make it all happen. He also expanded the volunteer workforce in Mobility to take advantage of the increased space in our new shop.

In addition to the work Bob did internally to make the Mobility Center function well, he also worked externally to increase its impact in local communities and around the world. He created a system by which equipment and other medical goods which Bridge couldn't distribute locally were passed on to other organizations that could distribute them. A heck of a lot of useful items that have passed through Mobility have traveled around the globe to people who needed them due to his efforts.  Bob also developed working relationships with local physical and occupational therapists so that patients who could not afford new mobility equipment got the best fit possible with our reconditioned equipment. Anything that could not be repaired and reused was recycled if at all possible, with many trips to the scrap metal recyclers reducing trips to the landfill. Bob did not like waste.

Once again, the numbers tell the story. In the period of time since Bob assumed control of Mobility we have seen approximately a 20% growth per year, with an over 70% increase in the number of pieces of equipment processed through Mobility annually - a total of 2582 in 2010. We've gone from processing about $400,000 in retail value through the doors of our humble little Mobility Center annually to over $1 million, with about 40% being distributed to international organizations. Think about it - that's 2582 needs of people living with disabilities being met. 2582 people who couldn't walk getting around on wheelchairs, walkers, crutches and scooters as well as receiving other medical equipment and goods they need, not only locally but around the world.

 

I think it's clear that the Lord prepared Bob well for the work he did here at Bridge. But work is not all there was to Bob. To those who knew him, Bob was not only a hardworking man with business acumen. He was also a sincere Christian man who earnestly endeavored to put the teachings of Jesus Christ to work in his own life. When I asked his long time friend, our Executive Director Jack Staudt, how he would sum Bob up, he answered "Bob was a righteous man". Bob was known to be a daily reader of scripture throughout his lifetime, and I enjoyed his devotions in staff meetings. I could count on him for an interesting take on the meaning of a particular scripture as it applies to our lives today. It was obviously something to which he gave a lot of thought.

Probably the best thing about Bob though, was that he really, really, really cared about people. He not only served folks with physical disabilities, but also participated in Spiritual Care events geared for folks with intellectual disabilities and involved them in the work of the Mobility Ministry whenever possible. When I saw him interacting with folks living with intellectual disabilities, his caring and compassion for them shined through. As the mother of an autistic child myself, it would be difficult to fake that with me. After 14 years raising an autistic kid, I have acquired those mom antennae that help discern genuine caring from political correctness or politeness. I can testify: Bob was the real deal.

I had the opportunity to learn firsthand about this caring side of Bob when I had a serious setback with an old knee injury last year. I fell on the knee about 4 years ago and caused some damage which, like a lot of people, I've never been able to seek medical help for due to a lack of access to medical insurance. I'd been limping along on it for about 3 years when I accidentally re-injured it and began to have serious problems getting around. Bob could see that I was having difficulty and invited me to come down to Mobility if I decided I could use some help.

One day the knee suddenly went right out from under me when I was going down a set of stairs so I went to visit Bob. Within a few minutes he had found a pair of crutches that fit me, adjusted them for my individual needs and sent me on my way with a smile. I was broke at the time, as I often am being the single parent of an autistic child, but that wasn't even an issue. When you were down, and needed help getting around, Bob was the man to see. One day I hope to be in a position to make a generous donation to the Mobility Ministry in memory of Bob for being there when I needed him.

Now, if you didn't know Bob well and you've started wondering if this is a whitewash, let me tell you something else: Bob was not perfect. Furthermore, I'm sure he'd have been the first to admit he's no candidate for sainthood. He had his "curmudgeon moments", as people with vision, drive and determination generally do. And we didn't always agree on everything either. But that's okay. I figure, if Jesus didn't require him to be perfect to be loved, then why should I? And actually, I think his human imperfections made him all the more lovable. Hmmm...maybe there's a lesson in there somewhere. Anyway, bottom line - I have the greatest respect both for Bob and his work in the Mobility Ministry. And if I were asked to sum Bob up, I'd say he was, and is, and will continue to be, an inspiration.

Well, that's my tribute to Bob. I'm sure others will be written by those who knew him longer and better than I did, but for what it's worth - I'm sure going to miss him. I'll remember the twinkle in his eye, his wry smile, his dry wit and his jovial laugh. I'll remember his energy, his initiative and his caring personalty. Most of all, I'll remember his steadfast faith.

 

And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast. To him be the power for ever and ever. Amen. 1 Peter 5:10-11 

Sharing Our Strength: The Temporarily Able Bodied

Working at Bridge means I hear a lot of stories about what it's like to live with a disability. Stories that can be very difficult to hear at times. For example the story I heard recently about a man living with cerebral palsy whose gradual weakening caused him to fall in the shower, and was told he needed to move out of his home immediately because the staff there could no longer handle his needs.

Can you imagine that happening to you? Can you imagine not only having to live with a severe disability, not only falling and hurting yourself, but then being told you have to leave your home immediately? Can you imagine being overwhelmed by the fear and pain of a disintegrating physical disability, yet in the midst of that being required to locate a facility that is willing to accept you as a resident and move all of your belongings?

I have witnessed this man's struggle for months with wheelchair problems, having difficulty locating a chair that would meet his needs, and that he could obtain without means. Having the battery fail on his power chair at a party, and having to sit plugged into a wall outlet to charge the battery while others were dining, dancing and singing. This seemed harsh enough to endure without the added realities he was now facing.

If you can't imagine something like this happening to you, I hate to be the one to tell you, but this story could be very like what you will experience one day yourself. You may ask, why do I say this? You may answer that you have no disability of any kind - neither physical, mental nor developmental. The answer is simply this: I say this because you, my friend, are one of the temporarily able bodied.

Never thought of it that way? Well, it is true. Every single one of us will experience disability at some point in our lives. Every single one of us will experience what it's like to no longer be able bodied, no longer be able to fend for ourselves, no longer able to survive without help. Just as we were once helpless and dependent as infants, so we all will once again be helpless and dependent on others as adults. It just happens to some sooner than others.

Will we have loving, caring, thoughtful caregivers when our time comes? Will people listen to us patiently as we struggle to explain our experience and gain the assistance we need? The reality I see in the world is that many are not listened to, many are not cared for, and if they are it is minimally and brusquely - with little regard for feelings. Even those who have the loving support of devoted family may encounter the insidious effects of compassion exhaustion in our loved ones; they may want to be there for you but feel overwhelmed by the burden of long term disability emotionally, physically, financially. It happens. It happens a lot.

As Christians we have been charged with the duty to care for each other, and we endeavor to do that to the best of our ability. We try to reach out to those less fortunate and lend them our strength.We try to lift them up as we have been lifted in our time of need, and will be again when we are no longer one of the temporarily able bodied. Those living with disabilities are a gift to us from God. Through them we glimpse our own vulnerability in this world, our own need for each other, and for a loving God.

At Bridge we see the glory of God revealed in many ways: When a volunteer in our Mobility Ministry helps recondition a donated wheelchair to give to someone in need, when a volunteer at one of our events in our Spiritual Care Ministry listens to a guest share a difficult experience or a joyful one, when a volunteer in our Guardianship Ministry assists with the mountain of paperwork that is needed to help someone who lives with a developmental disability live independently. In these and many other ways, our volunteers make a difference in our world. They improve the quality of life for all of us, by helping make this a world in which people are cared for.

In the Book of John Chapter 9 there is the story of Jesus healing the blind man. In the story his disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" "Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the works of God might be displayed in him."

So remember, when you lend the strength you presently have as a temporarily able bodied person to someone living with a disability, you embody the spirit of Christ. Through you He lives among us and blesses us with His love. Through your efforts the works of God are displayed in the lives of people living with disabilities.

Why is Spirituality so exciting?

A quick note: Have you said your prayers today? Have you listened to God's voice today? Have you shared with someone else the joy, love and peace of Christ today.

Why is it we too often feel like those without voice, those without visibility, or those without power have nothing to give to us, nothing to say to us, or nothing for us to hear?

We know that those without words often have more to teach us than those with beautiful thoughts, words and phrases. We are who we are by the grace of God.

Let us share ourselves, our Spirits, and our hearts with one another.

Christ's words are surely true when he shares that those who give of themselves to others, and expect nothing in return are truly blessed.

What do you have to offer God today?

In Memoriam - Clare Bailey

Last Wednesday morning I started the day at a meeting with a group of local pastors from the area where I live. I was talking to them about the isolation experienced by many who live with disabilities, as well as their families, and the difficulties they encounter. During the meeting, I mentioned that the people we serve at Bridge range as high as 90 years of age.

90 years old. To put that in perspective, a 90 year-old today was born at the beginning of the Roaring 20’s - the time of flappers, the Charleston, raccoon coats, Model T’s and art deco.

The 90 year-old I was thinking of at the meeting was Clare, one of Bridge’s Guardianship clients. As of that day, Bridge was Guardian to 39 indigent clients including Clare: making sure they are properly housed and well cared for, processing their paperwork, paying their bills, making sure they have recreational opportunities and visiting them regularly. What I didn’t know until I got back to the office from the meeting was that Clare had passed away right about when I mentioned him in the meeting.

Upon learning that Clare was gone, I reflected that while we were all enjoying dinner and dancing at the Rock ‘n Roll Dance last Saturday, one person who would normally be eager to sit at table with us was in his final days. We missed Clare at the dance, our eldest guardianship client and the guy with the best appetite in the place. Clare loved food! He would finish his dinner and dessert and look for more, every time.

Clare had been in and out of the hospital in recent months, but he had maintained his appetite throughout. In fact, the Friday night before the dance, he had his usual good appetite and enjoyed his dinner. However, Clare finally missed a meal on Saturday morning when he didn’t have breakfast. That was the beginning of the end. He began his final decline, staying in bed until he passed peacefully on the morning of my meeting.

I had a long talk with Clare’s Guardian, Gordon, the next day. He filled me in on Clare’s history a bit. I learned Clare was diagnosed with mental retardation, having a mental age of 7-10 years, and lived in state institutions from the age of 5-1/2 until his mid-50’s. Clare was a very active person, able to walk all over Seattle, which he did nearly every day until he began having trouble with weakness in his legs and back problems. He liked his independence, but was also very social. He liked children and enjoyed living in the Adult Family Home where he’s resided for several years because there were always children around. His hobby was needlework, and I discovered it was he who made the rug that I’ve so often seen hanging in the Bridge conference room.



Gordon began taking Clare to Sunday Evening Celebrations in July of 2007 as a volunteer. With his back and leg problems, Clare now needed help to get there. It was a laborious process. Somebody had to drive to his house, push him to the car in a manual wheelchair, help him into the car, fold the heavy chair and put it in the car, and then when they got to the event take the chair out, open it, help Clare into it and push him inside to a table. Then after the Celebration was over, the whole process had to be reversed.

This was a lot of work…especially since Clare was a big guy who stood over six feet, and I'm sure Gordon would be the first to acknowledge that he's not exactly a spring chicken any longer himself. But he kept doing it month after month, and continued after Bridge hired him as a Guardian, for as long as Clare was able to make the trip. They had developed a relationship and it was important to Gordon to get him there because he knew how important it was to Clare.

When I began recruiting volunteers for Bridge, I tried to find a volunteer who would be willing to do this task and give Gordon a break, but without luck. I felt bad about that at the time, but I know Gordon is now glad he was able to share those experiences with Clare. And Clare was very lucky to have such a dedicated friend and Guardian in Gordon. I can only hope and pray that my autistic son, now 15, will be so fortunate when mom is no longer around to look after him.

Even now, Gordon continues to act on behalf of Clare as he makes preparations for a respectful funeral and memorial service with our Chaplain Dave. In fact, the entire Bridge staff has been helpful in gathering photos and biographical information for this article and for the memorial, and carrying out the many tasks associated with Clare's passing and interment. We've shared about him and prayed for him at our weekly staff meetings during his illness, and now we pray for his soul's safe journey to be with the Lord. We all knew him and we all cared about him. Clare is a member of our family. He has enriched our lives, and we will miss him.

 Clare Bailey

October 30, 1920-April 13, 2011

What is Right and what is Wrong?

Yesterday, as I sat in worship at the Eastside Friends church in Bellevue Washington, I gazed at the forest just outside the meeting room window and I pondered: -Which of these magnificent and beautiful trees in front of me is right and which one is wrong?

I then glanced down at the carpet beneath my feet and I again found myself pondering:

-Which one of these unique and intricate tiny strands in the carpet pile before me is right and which one of these strands is wrong?

I found myself looking up at the ceiling and noticed the chains holding up the lights that illuminated our space and I pondered: -which one of these individual links is right and which one is wrong?

Glancing around at the people surrounding me in contemplation, meditation, and prayer I saw their heads filled with hair and I couldn't help but ponder: Which of the individual strands of hair on their heads is right and which one is wrong?

These questions are ridiculous and the answers always eminently clear and the same: They each one and all are a creation of life which is all around us, and none of them is right or wrong they are just there as they are truly meant to be.

SO, I FOUND MYSELF PONDERING ONCE MORE: Why then do we so frequently look at people and ask the question are they right or are they wrong, always expecting this question to be real, valid and signficant.

This becomes even more poignant when we look at people who happen to have disabilities.

In the most recent publication of the Journal of Religion, Disability & Health there is an article by Hans Reinders entitled: Is There Meaning in Disability? Or Is It the Wrong Question? In this article the insightful truth is shared that through history, and too often even now those with disabilities have been seen as a cursed people or a blessed people. In brief the imagery of the church has been that God has punished people by inflicting them with disabilities, or oppositely God has created folks with disabilities as "innocents," angels of light, or as gifts of blessings for the world. When in all truth and reality God has created and sustained folks with disabilities just as God has created and sustained all of us just as we are.

We are so off the mark if we look at people around us and ask are they right or are they wrong? We unabashadly recognize the truth which shines forth that we are ALL God's creatures. It is and always has been the fact that you, me, those with disabilities and everyone together are as we are meant to be right here and right now. May we live, act, speak, and breathe in the knowledge that this is so.

Incredible Winners

INCREDIBLE WINNERS!

I have recently seen some incredible stories about folks with disabilities. These stories tend to all have the same theme: even though I am disabled I can still accomplish great things. The most incredible of these feats to me was the national championship of Anthony Robles who though only having one leg became the NCAA Division 1 national wrestling champion.

As a former high school wrestler myself, with occasional delusions that I might wrestle collegiately, I found this victory particularly impressive. I know just how hard it was for Anthony to win, because I know how grueling it is for anyone to win at this sport. It is an amazing physical success.

Still, I am more impressed by the accomplishments of every person I see. Those with physical disabilities, those with mental health issues, and those with intellectual disabilities all remind me of the same simple truth: Each one of us has a significant, incredible and fantastic life to live. Although Anthony's great victory is stellar, there are equally impressive victories going on right here, right now, every day. For some folks suffering with depression just getting out of bed can be as huge an effort as winning the national championship. For some folks with intellectual disabilities just being seen and treated with respect can be as novel as the wrestling victory. For some with physical limitations traveling for hours to get to church and hours to get home can be a commitment as large as wrestling practice demands.



I was fascinated by every match in the NCAA wrestling championships, and I am intrigued by every human being on the planet that realizes we are connected to each other and to something more through God's Spirit. Sometimes it is even harder to really believe this when so many people are saying we have to win win win. When in actuality we already truly have!

Blessings! Chaplain Dave

Lucas Goes to Olympia

Well, it wasn't really just Lucas. Yesterday four of us made the trek to Olympia to advocate for people living with disabilities on InterFaith Advocacy Day. Chaplain Dave Emery, Randy Sanders, myself and my son Lucas.

This trip arose out of Bridge's Roots 'n' Wings Support Group for people living with physical disabilities. Our members live with a variety of physical disorders such as cerebral palsy and blindness, and in recent months have had many stories to tell about how the budget cuts are impacting their lives. They decided they wanted to do some advocacy, but most found the prospect of a long and arduous day of travel impossible. Therefore, those of us who could go went and did our best to represent everyone.

Between us we did cover a pretty wide range of needs. We numbered a father of two adult children with brain disorders, a man who requires the use of a wheelchair for mobility, a teenager with autistic disorder and a communication disorder, and myself - the single parent of a special needs child. My personal goal for this effort was simply to try to put a human face on the numbers for our legislators. I think I can safely say we did do that!

When we arrived at United Churches of Olympia early in the morning we found the building was packed. We squeezed around people with some difficulty and eventually found seating in the balcony. I think when all the talking started Lucas was wondering, "Mom, what is this and why the heck did you bring me here?!"

We watched as people of all faiths and denominations spoke in turn about the moral imperative to care for the less fortunate and how to speak effectively to our legislators.

Then we began to drift off in our various directions looking for our Senators and Representatives. Here Dave and Randy begin the slow trek across the capital towards the Legislature.

It wasn't all sitting and watching people talk. Lucas got to see many interesting sights throughout the day, such as this visit to the Senate Chambers

Lucas and I tried to visit all of our District 5 legislators. We spent a good deal of time talking to Senator Pflug's staffer Adam Day. We were unable to speak to Representative Anderson because we weren't able to get from place to place quickly enough, so I left a letter and my card with his Aide. But we did have an opportunity to meet personally with Representative Rodne. I talked to all of these people about the difficulties people living with disabilities are encountering due to budget cuts, such as lack of access to healthcare and other basic needs.

Lucas did his best to get through a long day of meetings, sitting and listening to people talk about things he probably didn't understand very well. He did grow somewhat tired and impatient towards the end. But, needless to say, his presence in the room tended to keep everyone present pretty well on topic.

I think Lucas did a pretty good job of advocacy yesterday. I'm proud of him. And hopefully God will bless our efforts by giving those who serve in the Legislature guidance to protect the vulnerable among us.

The Lord's will be done.