The Phone Call

There was a voice message on my phone I finally saw and listened to yesterday. Dean had already given me the number to call someone back the day before, but I had no idea how much labor went into the process of getting that number.

The recorded message told it all. Dean was so slow in answering the phone that it went to voicemail and recorded their conversation. The poor phone operator was so patient with him. It took him forever to get the pen and paper to write down her number. And she had to repeat it numerous times for him to get it right. He kept reversing digits, reading it back to her wrong, and she had to correct him. It was almost comical--I kept holding back laughter while listening to it. Why she didn't just hang up and try to contact someone else, I'll never know.

It seems to me that God must have just as hard a time getting through to us sometimes. We drag our feet about answering His call, about getting the message, and even mess up getting it right. But He's a patient operator. He wants us to succeed, no matter how sin has disabled us. I hope I can be a better listener from here on out.

Reputations

Dean's sister Lynn and brother-in-law John came for a visit today. They live in another state and we seldom get to see each other. His family was having a big family reunion in town, but we had our own little one right here in our cozy living room this morning--a much better place for Dean to be able to reconnect with his only sis.

Lynn helped me identify and mark some of their family photos, a task I hadn't even asked Dean to tackle. It surprised me how his sister could get stories out of him that I hadn't heard before though. As it often happens with dementia, his long-term memory is still pretty intact. I had hesitated to have him help me on his own simply because I know how frustrated he gets with such activities.

There was one relative she was telling us about who I was really interested in--perhaps because of my own breathing and oxygen problems. Dean's grandpa on his father's side was reportedly not a good provider. First of all, this was during the Great Depression. But he was nevertheless considered a good-for-nothing, and forced his grandmother to work and support their children. She later divorced him and continued to provide for her four children on her own. Then Lynn told me that he had asthma.

I instantly thought of my own great grandpa, who had asthma and an almost identical story of not working, leaving my great grandmother to support their eight children during the Depression. He was thought to be pretty worthless by the family, even to this day too.

Having experienced shortness of breath and several episodes of calling 911, I can relate to the debilitating effects of asthma, or any pulmonary problem. Keep in mind that there was no medical support of any kind back then for lung patients--no nebulizers, medicines, or inhalers. I doubt there was even portable oxygen for home use. Both of our grandfathers died at an early age, and from the sound of their stories may have suffered from mental depression as well.

This brought home to me how one's reputation can suffer unjustly and how important our understanding of disabilities is. My hope is that people now will become familiar enough with dementia, and all the other "invisible" disabilities out there, and that the memories we leave will be seen in a kinder light.

And of course, the greatest legacy of all is the life that reflects the Father's love. After all, God has a reputation to guard as well.

Dean and Lynn

 

Winners AND Losers

I can't wait for the news coverage of the election tonight. I really enjoy the suspense of the outcome. We are definitely focused on the winner in this presidential contest. What is really sad to think about though is that someone will be a loser. You only have a 50-50% chance, especially with an election this close. And what will that be like for the one who doesn't win the election? After all the effort and money that goes into a campaign, it must be excruciatingly disappointing when the other side wins.

As a caregiver, I have grown accustomed to feeling the losses of someone who has lost a great deal of normalcy in his life. People with disabilities of any kind can easily fall into the category of loser, without someone by their side assisting and encouraging them to keep trying.

Our main purpose as Christians should also be to reach out to people who are losing out on eternal life. Because there is no greater loss than missing out on heaven. Introducing people to the greatest campaign manager of all time, Jesus Christ, is not that difficult a task. He will take over their life, just like real campaign managers do, and success is guaranteed. None of us have to be losers of heaven. We elect, or choose, to be.

Getting a Lift

I was wondering what the physical therapist would be recommending for Dean today. Last year when he was here he didn't get much accomplished because of Dean's foot fracture.

After he went through some exercises with him today, I began telling him of Dean's lack of activity and how I end up waiting on him, probably too much. But when I said it was mostly because it was so hard for Dean to get out of his recliner these days, he said he might qualify for a lift chair.

That would really be nice. Hopefully it would mean that he would get up more often, which would be good for him. And it would be less wear and tear on my old body by grabbing his hand and pulling him up all the time, or just waiting on him hand and foot. So it would be good for me too.

God can grab our hand too to help us up. Or He can give us a "lift chair" to help us up. Even though it feels like we are getting up on our own, God is still doing the work. Let's not forget the source of all our efforts and activities. Whether we are pulled from the front or pushed from the back, God is doing the pushing and pulling. It is God, all the way.

Feeling Used

Dean and I were reading a passage this evening that was very meaningful to us both. It said, "If He sees fit to cut off our usefulness in some line, we mourn, not stopping to think that thus God may be working for our good." Then later it said, "...under the rod of affliction the Christian may sometimes do more for the Master than when engaged in active service." The statement was referring to the time when Paul was first under house arrest in Rome and must have felt like his work for the Lord was coming to a close.

I pointed out to Dean after reading this that even though we aren't at this time in our lives able to serve God in the capacity that we'd like, He can still use us. As a matter of fact, our disabilities may be allowing Him to use us MORE. Just like He did for Paul.

Our disabilities can become His-abilities. Awesome.

Longing to Belong

Our pastor had a great sermon this morning about three things every church must be careful about getting in the right order. First, people who attend must feel they belong. Then, we have the opportunity to share our beliefs with them. And finally, we will see behaviors and lifestyles change. He called them the three B's--belong, believe, and behave. And the order is important.

The pastor emphasized that belonging will happen only as we are accepting of everyone who walks in the church's door. No one should be turned away because of dress or demeanor. Everyone should be made to feel welcome.

As the church's disability awareness person and the wife of a man who has a brain injury and dementia, I pray that our acceptance and patience extends to ALL who worship with us, not just the new person attending the first time. I'm talking about anyone who doesn't fit into our mold of normalcy. Either because of a physically or mentally challenging condition, or someone without the finances or social standing that we are comfortable with.

As a matter of fact, the one sure way of making a visitor feel welcome in our midst is by his observing how we treat those individuals who are different from the norm. How do we measure up in our loving the unlovable, now matter how long they've been attending church? Let's make sure we've made ALL our members feel they belong, and then accepting the new ones will come easy.

The Biggest Barrier

A politician once said, "The moral test of government is how it treats those who are in the dawn of life...the children; those who are in the twilight of life...the elderly; and those who are in the shadow of life...the sick...the needy...and the disabled." I believe this is the moral test of a church as well.

This afternoon, as our church's disability awareness leader, I was looking on the internet for information about several disabilities and trying to plan how our church can recognize and even celebrate those in our church who are in the throes of challenges that we often don't even know exist.

Another quote I found quite revealing was "The biggest barriers people with disabilities encounter are other people." I pray that, as Christians, we can help our fellow church members climb their barriers, instead of being one. Love and compassion that comes from God can make that climb possible.

Support Groups

This was the night for our monthly brain injury support group meeting. What always strikes me at these meetings is that if you were to visit our group, you could not tell who were brain injury survivors and who are their caregivers, in most cases.

Brain injury, just like depression, post traumatic stress disorders, and a host of other mental illnesses is one of the "invisible disabilities" we are beginning to hear about. Because of their hidden nature, unfortunately there is not alot of awareness and understanding of these disorders. Of all the support groups out there, this one seems to me to be invaluable to its members. Several in the group we meet with have been coming to it for years now.

Another support group we attend is one that meets weekly. These meetings last all morning long, and many of us even share a noon meal afterwards. The nice thing about this group is that our support isn't only found in each other, but in the great Creator God we come to honor at the meeting. The disability that ties us together at this meeting is called sin, an often invisible disability that we all share.