I am almost done with riding in the wheel chair or walking with crutches, but I do have a couple stories I have not published yet…So more to come!

Today I want to tell you about a friend of mine…  
 
His name was Steven; he came to camp as a group leader and thought he was there “just for the kids”. (Haven’t most of us said that before?)  He would be graduating high school soon and still hadn’t made up his mind exactly which direction he wanted to go.  He loved God but didn’t know if he was called into the Ministry. That week he was involved in small groups, leading his cabin in Bible studies, listening and applying the messages.  We spoke a few times, laughed a lot, got dunked (and did some dunking) by kids in the pool, and worshiped together.
 
Two weeks after camp, I received an e-mail from Steven saying that God touched his heart in one of the services where I had challenged people to answer the call that God has placed upon all of our lives; not necessarily “into Ministry” but rather that we are all called “to minister”. 

 

He thanked me for my messages and wanted me to know that he believed that he was called to be a youth pastor and is making plans to work with youth. I am so blessed that God gives me grace and favor at events and allows me to become a catalyst for change in people’s lives.
 
You are all just as important to those changes as I am; Through your continued prayer support, your financial contributions and your emotional support through phone calls, letters, and e-mails (keep them coming, they make me smile when I get them!)  You are part of this Over-The-Top team that encourages kids, teens, and adults to live out their faith in Christ especially during these difficult times. 
 
With our economy in turmoil, young people are experiencing great instability as their parents lose jobs, lose homes, and their marriages dissolve.  Young people are looking for something, anything that is stable and secure. The Old hymn accurately proclaims where we should put our trust:
 
                                    My hope is built on nothing less
                                    Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness.
                                    I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
                                    But wholly trust in Jesus’ Name.
 
                                    On Christ the solid Rock I stand,
                                    All other ground is sinking sand…
 
                                    When darkness seems to hide His face,
                                    I rest on His unchanging grace.
                                    In every high and stormy gale,
                                    My anchor holds within the veil.
 
The economy is not stable.   The future is unclear.  And no matter who wins the upcoming election, there will be a season of turmoil as the new president and elected officials get their feet under them.  Our world offers young people many choices, mostly on the Dark side of the Supernatural, but the only solid choice is Jesus Christ!

 

 

So here are a few questions to consider as you share God’s love in these tough times;

 

Who have you loved recently that was unlovable?

Who have you listened to, really listened to, that disagreed with your beliefs?

What young person have you sat down with, looked into their eyes and told them they matter…

…to you?

…to God?

…to the community?

…to the nation?

 

Standing On The Rock withYou,

John 

Over the weeks I have found numerous people that have offered to help open doors, offered to help me carry something, offered to push, but today was a little strange.

My wife wanted to go to lunch for her birthday, so we loaded up the car and headed out to Islands for a guacamole burger and their awesome french fries. They sat us at a fine table that was wheel chair accessible and we totally enjoyed our conversation and meal.  As we left, I rolled out to where we had parked the van and noticed a car sitting next to us with a grandmother getting out of the passenger seat and working her way into a walker for the trip to the restaurant.  With her was a mom and her two young daughters, who remained by the car as grandma headed out.

She began to give her daughters a blow-by-blow account of what I was doing. “watch how fast he can fold up that chair…look how he swings it into the van…he must have done this 100 times…see how he sits down and then swings his legs in.”  It was not until I closed the door that they made their way in pursuit of grandma who had gone off to fend for herself.  I looked at my wife and mentioned how wierd that had felt as she had noticed it too.

We decided they were home-schooled kids who were getting their social studies credit out of the way, but as far as I am concerned they could have done it a little less obtrusively.  Standing 5 feet from a handicapped person, and speaking loud enough to be heard at a distance, is not the time to talk about them or for that matter to stare at them.  It was awkward and she was rude and invasive…maybe that was why grandma walked away from them in the first place

So now it is getting weird what I will notice.  Three weeks as a chair-rider and I have a completely different perspective of what it means to run errands or go grocery shopping…Yesterday, I was going to the bank and I parked in a Handicap spot that was half-way between the bank and Albertsons, so I could get to both without a ton of extra effort.

As I was rolling down the curb towards the bank, I noticed that the second roll-hole and the blue-stripped zone were blocked by a Fedx truck.  I stopped and looked back in amazement as he strolled out of the Mailbox Depot with a few packages.  I looked at him, then his truck and then back at him and just shook my head.

These guys seem to have little to say and it is obvious that thier use of these spaces is part of their regular delivery patterns and they don’t even consider the ramifications for others who actually need access to them to accomplish daily tasks.  I suppose the Fedx guy could defend his use by saying that day there were other handicap spots still open, but that is just not a valid argument.

Think about the bathroom.  How often have you used the handicapped stall in a public restroom, when others were available? I know that I have, especially at an airport when I am dragging my carry on around.  It is nice to have the extra room, and it is usually cleaner. 

The question is how would you feel if when you exit, you come face to face with someone who can only use THAT stall or THOSE  parking spaces…

You then realize that you had other options and this PERSON did not!  They had to wait for you, an able-bodied individual to stop using what was designed specifically for them to achieve some public form of normal functionality that we take for granted.

I have realized that my writing is not always as funny as I thought it would be during this experience.  Different perspectives give us new input and new input wakes us up to new realities.  I will look at handicapped issues in a whole new light after this part of my journey.

Park Further…Walk More…Use the Bathroom At Home …Pay Attention

John

Okay, to say that you become more sensitive to a person’s shoes after you walk a mile in them (or roll a mile in thier wheels, as in my case) is an understatement.  I have become much more aware that when you are in a wheelchair there are certain givens that an able-bodied person has, that you just don’t anymore!

One is parking…

When I park, I can’t just park anywhere, and I’m not just talking about the distance one must travel between the car and the store.  When I park, it needs to be in a handicapped spot, I need the access to the area adjoined to it with the blue stripes to be able to get my wheel chair out of the van.  (Until I became a chair-rider, I did not know that was what they were for.)

Lately I have noticed that people going to put carts away, stop there and deposit their empty shopping carts in the blue striped area. 

SPECIAL ALERT!!! This is not a secret area set apart just for you to drop off your shopping carts because the front of the store or the cart rack is too far to walk. you CAN walk…so walk!

The second thing I have noticed is the need for sidewalk access without popping wheelies (Which I love to do BTW) and hoping that you don’t fall backwards…

Here’s where the stare down comes in…

I parked in a handicapped spot in front of my daughter’s school.  I got out of the van, got my chair out, sat in it, locked the doors and turned to head to the ramp that had just been built for handicap access.  I then realized that I would need to wait as a Costco delivery truck was using the “roll-hole” as a parking spot while unloading his truck.  The front half of his truck and the tires totally blocked my ability to navigate up onto the curb. 

I waited for about five minutes there at the front corner of his truck while he closed the back roll-up door and Slowly walked in my direction.  He stepped up into the cab, finished his paperwork, and then drove off; all the while I was sitting in my wheelchair and smiling, I just stared up at him in amazement at his total lack of acknowledgement of me or the realization that he had kept me from being able to get to the ramp.

He never said a word!  No sorry, oops, how ya doin, won’t do it again, nothing.  Had he pulled his truck back an extra five feet off of the sidewalk,  it would not have been an issue, but heck, you don’t see many handicapped people around schools now-a-days anyway, right; …and he was only there for a minute, (Maybe 15, but who’s counting! ) …and I didn’t have to wait that long, did I?  …and what am I complaining about, look how close I get to park.

OK, enough thought given to that train…choo-choo!  Moving on!

My point? 

Well…I really don’t have a well-defined point just yet, other then people ought to be more aware of how thier use of areas designated for handicapped use only, creates added challenges for those who require access to them to just make it through an ordinary day.

Observe…Think…Pay Attention…Act

Rolling Along…

John

I have learned so much lately and one thing is what the bumps are for…I have been looking for “roll-holes” ( My term for the break in a sidewalk or curb where a wheelchair can gain access to a store or shop.)  and I have noticed raised bumps on the cement or ridges cut into the cement. 

I kept wondering why they were there until I hit my first gutter full of water (and mud…sludge…gunk…or whatever human waste that finds its way off the streets and into the gutter) and attempted the incline without the bumps or grooves. Your “wet” wheels do not catch and you slide backwards, time and time again.

My one rule is that I will only use my good leg to assist with movement and even with that, it was hard to make the slight incline while wet…well the tires were wet, not me personally, but you get the picture.

So praise God for the bumps in life because as I am sure you have heard “the bumps are what you climb on…”

Boy, does that have new meaning to me know.

I got some great tickets to see the Dodgers clinch the NL West from my friend Bill Lovelace and had a great experience.  The stadium set up for handicapped access was wonderful with very close parking and no major obstecles, except the drunk people in the seats behind me  My seats were great (thanks Bill and Sue)  so I was able to roll right down to the isle and hop three rows to my seat up off of third base.  People were very helpful and the usher took my chair and checked for me so I did not have to worry about it.  Went with my honey and some friends and had a wonderful time.  No bumps, no bruises and no curbs.

Still too many butts, but that is the view from down here!

So I go to the DMV to get my temporary handicapped plaque and I roll up to the door and hit the “Handicapped Button” to open the doors and they don’t open.  So, I smack it the obligated 5 or 6 times more, thinking that might help, and still it does not open.

Have you ever  tried to open a door that is built to open automatically when it does not open???  It is very heavy.  A man observes my struggle and forces the door open for me with a chuckle and a joke; “I guess the budget cuts started here.”  The sad case is that he might be correct in that the required repair would cost more then the office will allow. 

So I get my hanging tag and head to the doors and push the “Handicapped Button” on the inside hoping for a different outcome.  Nope…not today! 

This time, a nice lady held the door open for me whie continuing to talk on her cell phone, in a foreign language.  Maybe she was calling the repair department, but I wouldn’t hold my breath for it.

I am going to check back in 2 weeks to see if the door is fixed and if not raise a little stink.  I’ll let you know what happens.

It’s a different world looking at butts and belt-buckles as you roll through your day… 

One thing I have learned for sure from this unique visual perspective is that certain ladies should not wear certain pants.  I don’t care what material you use, a size 14 bottom will never fit in to a size 10 pair of pants; spandex or otherwise…just stop the madness!

I have determined that getting aound with crutches STINKS!  So, I decided to borrow a wheel chair from my neighbor and become a “chair rider” (my term-not sure if I heard it or made it up) instead.  They hooked me up with a nice speckled black, very light chair that fits in my house and into my car. 

I have decided to study people from this angle and to try to limit my hoping on 1 leg to a minimum and attempt to experience what so many handicapped people deal with on an average day.  I would not go many places with the crutches;because of pain, awkwardness, or not being able to carry stuff.  With the chair I hope to adventure out a bit more. 

Already it is easier to get around in the house with the wood floors, but I must be extremely careful through the doors as the chair barely fits and my honey has already seen some flecks of paint on the floor where I didn’t quite make it. She’ not smiling at that.

Getting out of the chair and into the bathroom on one leg is also a greater challenge then I imagined.  Can you say “bunny-hop”?

I am sure that somewhere in the middle ages, a very small evil man in the dungeons of a king, was attempting to induce the greatest amount of physical pain on one of the king’s many enemies.  “Let us determine one of the most soft and tender areas of the human body and begin there” he expressed out loud to his assistant.  With relentless human testing came the knowledge that the underarm or “arm-pit” was indeed a vulnerable and sensitive area. 

With thier diabolical minds linked together in devious thought,  they devised a way to torture people by forcing metal rods, topped with hardened sand stone, under their arms and into the “pit” while requiring them to place all of thier weight downward on the sand stone pads and on to the rods as they were made to navigate through a maze of chairs, beds and walls.

This type of  torture continues even to this day…but now we pay our kings (read Doctors here) to tell us we have to use them…

When my doctor called me after my knee surgery he said:

…i’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news!

I went into knee surgery to have my miniscus repaired ( easy surgery and walking in two days) and guess what…it was OK.  (good news)  However, I had torn my cartilage and the repair on that will require SIX WEEKS without walking on it because he had to pound (literally) micro-fractures into my femur. (bad news) Here goes my time for the next few weeks…