To Walk My Own Path

“Our society is geared to growth, development, and progress. Life, for most of us, is a race to be won. Families are about evolution: at a certain age, children are encouraged to leave home, get married, have children of their own, move on in their lives. But people with disabilities have no such future. Once they have reached a certain level of development, they are no longer expected or encouraged to progress. There is no “promotion” for the disabled and what forward movement there is seems to be either erratic or cruelly sped up: many people move quickly through childhood to adulthood without passing through a period of adolescence; others age quickly. Our society is not set up to cope very well with people who are weaker or slower. More important, we are not skilled at listening to the wisdom of those whose life patterns are outside of the social norm. There is a lack of synchronicity between our society and people with disabilities.” Jean Vanier, Becoming Human, (p. 45-46).

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Jean Vanier founded a community in 1964 called L'Arche for people with intellectual disabilities. Not having a disability himself, I was shocked with the accuracy by which he could describe the developmental process that people with disabilities experience. The phrase “cruelly sped up” jumps off the page at me. So often, I feel like I experience life as an “old lady” in a young woman's body. I plan my outfits around supportive footwear, park in accessible spaces, and am conscientious of falling in public. I know what it is to wake up every morning with stiff muscles, live with consistent low-level back pain, and find relief in slow-paced activities like stretching. I wear reading glasses, have grab bars installed in my bathroom, and would prefer not to drive, especially at night.

When I think about these personal characteristics, it would seem as if the timeline of my entire life has been thrown off track—both through the experience of delay and rapid expedition. I was born prematurely at 29 weeks, but didn't walk until I was two. Due to challenges and disappointments I endured during childhood, I spent many of my developing years simply waiting to become an adult. My brother remarked to me once in passing, “You skipped childhood.” Others said to me in my teen years, “You think like a adult.” This feeling of being out of sync has been a struggle. Certainly the hardest people for me to relate with have been my own peers—fellow 20-Somethings.

In a decade so often characterized by marriage and family, I often watch the progression of my peers with observant curiosity. Will I get married some day? Maybe. Dating presents a unique set of challenges and opportunities for those with physical disabilities. It takes a special person to see deeply into the heart and soul of another human being, past an imperfect exterior. I believe we all long for this rare type of insight—and for this I am willing to wait.

Will I have children? My two little nieces bring me more joy than I can express. But, I already struggle with fatigue. I cannot imagine expending the amount of energy necessary to sustain my life while nurturing the life of another. If I were to ever lose my balance and fall while carrying a infant, I would never forgive myself. Children move with such speed and agility. My reaction time is slow and my gross motor skills are compromised. What if a toddler were to run out into a busy street or jump into deep water where I couldn't rescue them from harm in time? I'm just not certain, for very practical reasons, that parenting should be in my future.

So, what do I do with the knowledge that my life's trajectory may not be following the “normal” curve?  What if my “promotion” looks different than my 20-Something peers? In a world obsessed with conformity, I believe people are crying out for others to notice and value their unique individual and creative identity. I think the invitation here is to have the courage to be myself—to walk my own path, validating other's experiences, but not comparing it to my own in order to assign value. One person's story is not greater than an other's. Let's celebrate the unique role will all have to play!

Have you ever felt like your life was off-track? Do you find yourself comparing your story to an other's story and assigning value? How can you intentionally engage with other people whose life may not be on the “normal” curve in order to broaden your perspective?

Reference

Vanier, J. (1998). Becoming Human. Mahwah, NJ: Paulist Press.

Redemption Through Hats and Gloves

A few years ago I learned the meaning of the word redemption. Take a couple of seconds to click on the link and breathe in the meaning of this powerful word. It's definition—rich, it's implications for our lives—profound.

After reflecting upon the significance of this word, I am led to this question: Is it really possible to experience redemption? Even in those small areas of our lives, which may seem insignificant, but are in fact, a source of personal loss and deep pain?

As a child, I felt as though I experienced loss and pain in both big and small ways. I'm sure if you thought about it, without too much trouble, you also could recall a memory of an incident that wounded your spirit in younger years. One memory I have is getting ready for recess in elementary school during the winter. It wasn't uncommon for me to be asked to stay in a few minutes from recess to finish some seat work and then head out into the hallway alone to bundle up.

I found this process of getting dressed to be perplexing:

• Shoes have to come off first, but boots have to be put on last.
• A sleeve is a great place to store hats and mittens, but they have to be temporarily replaced in order to put on a jacket.
• Wearing your mittens on your hands while sticking your arm through your coat sleeve would seem to make the most sense, but it's actually a detrimental move because covering your fingers prematurely makes zipping your jacket nearly impossible!

Navigating situations that require problem-solving is challenging for any young elementary student, but because I also have poor fine-motor skills and hand-eye coordination, I not only found getting dressed to be challenging, I found it overwhelming.

It took me so long to get dressed that by the time I reached the threshold of the recess door, I would hear the whistle blow signaling that recess was over. I missed my free-time in it's entirety. I wish I could say that this happened just once, but.....

It happened repeatedly and I never told anyone.

As I grew up, I learned to cope. I found outwear that had fewer zippers and ties. My hand-eye coordination improved somewhat as I matured, and eventually I completed assignments with efficiency, allowing me to get outside on time, but the sting of what had happened to me became a painful memory that I carried inside me through the years.

Can a pain like this one be healed?

I can only imagine dialoguing with a counselor as an adult. I imagine she might listen to my story and then say:

• “I'm sorry this happened to you.” (So am I. While kind, your sympathies are not helping.)
• “Have you discovered the wonders of Velcro?” (As a matter of fact I have! I happen to own adult Velcro boots. They make me feel and look prematurely old for my age.)
• “I hope you've since learned how to ask for help.” (Sometimes, but the truth is that I am fiercely independent.)

Can pain like this be redeemed?

A few years ago, I would have said no. The pain I experienced as a child getting ready for recess will always linger in my heart. There is no possible way that what happened to me could ever be repaired or restored.

Today, I hold a different perspective.

Today I work at an elementary school where I watch as the young students around me endure some of the same struggles to prepare for recess as I did. I found myself experiencing pain day after day as I watched first graders come in from recess and not know where to place their hats and mittens. I grew stressed as the bell rang at 2:15. I would observe students attempting to get dressed quickly and pack their bags in time to catch the bus. Memories of similar struggles flooded my mind.

You can imagine my shock and delight when one day, our Dean of Students approached me and said, “Jenny, will you show the students on the news how to hang up their coat and place their hats and mittens into their sleeves? Some of our students are struggling.”

I put my heart and soul into my demonstration and was asked for an encore presentation the following day. Eventually a video was created demonstrating this process and is shown annually. When a student stops me in the hall as they head out the door to recess, asking me to help them zip their coat or tuck in their gloves, I smile and thank God that He has redeemed even this little piece of my life.

How has God redeemed your life? How have you seen Him work in big, small, or unexpected ways?

Enjoy this video by Gungor called Beautiful Things. God does want to redeem our lives and bring beauty and creativity where all we see is rubble. 

 

The Sweetest Treat of All

In college I was required, along with all other pre-service teachers, to take a special eduction course. One of our assignments was to spend 20 hours around people with disabilities. I split my time between two places. During the day, I visited a middle school classroom comprised of students who were mildly cognitively impaired. Approximately 10 adolescents learned together in a classroom with one teacher and three paraprofessionals. I read with them in small groups using materials that reminded me of those used by the students in my mom's first grade classroom when learning to read for the first time. Regardless of their reading level, I learned these students were smart! One of them picked up on the fact that I startle easily, so he made it his mission to poke me every day until I jumped high enough to meet his satisfaction. Occasionally, I would fail to startle so he would look at me with frustration and ask, “How come you're not doing it?” as his index finger jammed repeatedly into my side. Just thinking about this makes me laugh. I also met a girl with cerebral palsy which affected her speech. One day while walking down the hallway, she looked at me and slowly formed the question, “Why do you walk like that?” I looked into her eyes and said, “I have cerebral palsy.” She lit up, “So do I!”

Volunteering in this capacity was an eye-opening and humbling experience for me. I was overcome with thankfulness that the first time I had seen the inside of a special education classroom was not as a child, but as a college student. I was mainstreamed in general education courses throughout my K-12 schooling experience, pulled out only to work with the adaptive physical education teacher to stretch my leg muscles a few times per week. On its own, CP does not affect intelligence. However, it is often co-morbid with other disabilities such as mental retardation, seizures, and speech impairments, none of which, I have ever experienced. I would often reflect on how much I have been spared while I drove back to campus. As the semester came to a close, I realized I needed more hours of service to complete my assignment, so a friend suggested that I volunteer for United Cerebral Palsy's (UCP) Halloween Party. Every year, UCP hosts a party for kids with all sorts of disabilities. Dressed as the Flash, I staffed the bean bag toss for the majority of the evening. Like volunteering in the classroom, I also found this experience to be incredibly humbling. I saw a wide range of kids with disabilities, many who dealt with greater challenges than I do every day of their lives. I was also struck with the fact that unlike a special education teacher who can leave the experience of disability when the school day is done, family members deal with this experience continually. 

Posing as The Flash

This led me to reflect on my own family's experience, especially around Halloween. Let me start by saying this: I am a die-hard trick-or-treater. In 1986, before I had surgery, I could hardly stand on my own and struggled to walk. My brother had to support me in this endeavor, but we still went out trick-or-treating. The Halloween Blizzard of 1991 did not stop me from going door to door! Little comes between this girl and her chocolate! There is however, one Halloween that will forever be ingrained in my mind—Halloween 1988. That year I had told my mother that I wanted to be Minnie mouse. She painted my nose black and found me a red top to wear along with mouse ears. However, that year I did not have to worry about trying to squeeze a jacket underneath my costume because I had under armor of a different nature...a plaster body cast.

Halloween 1986--I am enthralled with our friend Lisa.  My brother Jeremiah is the skeleton holding me up.

Earlier in the month, I had undergone an intensive orthopedic operation in order to correct my gait. My leg bones were broken and my tendons were severed. I was placed in a body cast for six weeks to heal. This experience impacted our family. For a time, I had to stay in the hospital, usually one parent stayed with me, while my brother was at home with the other parent. When I finally was able to come home, part of our house had to be rearranged so that I could sleep in the living room. Carrying me upstairs to my bedroom was out of the question! Getting me into and out the car required multiple people, I had to be flipped every couple of hours to prevent bed sores.....

Ready to go out trick-or-treating as Minnie Mouse

Playing with Minnie after making  my rounds!

At times, I suspect my elder brother of three years, Jeremiah, felt lost in the mix. However, it was on Halloween that I remember him showing love and care for me in a tangible way. While my mother or father wheeled me down the street through our neighborhood, it was my brother who took my candy bucket up steep driveways to the door for me, rang the bell, and explained to the greeter why I couldn't come to the threshold. Without complaint, he collected candy for both of us that year, which we later went home, sorted in piles, and enjoyed!

Why am I reminiscent of this memory? My brother Jeremiah is now a father to two precious little girls, Lily who will be turning two in December and Tizi (pronounced TC) who will be turing 4 early next month, just about the age I was when I had my operation. His family has recently moved into a house in our childhood neighborhood and he will likely be taking the girls around the block to the very same houses we visited as kids. When I think about this, I am again humbled and grateful. I am grateful that while the girls will also be able to experience the care of my brother, they will not have to have him collect their candy because they are able to walk to the door themselves. Their childhoods will most likely not involve children's hospitals, invasive surgeries or long recoveries. They might have to learn how to wear a coat under their costume (a trick for all MN kids!), but probably not a body cast. Tizi spends Tuesday afternoons not at physical therapy, but at dance class. 

Lily

Tizi

The walk of life living with a disability is sometimes a courageous one—filled with challenge, struggle, and insight. I've certainly learned things along the way that have been profound. I applaud those with disabilities who rise each morning, facing all of life's challenges with joy and perseverance. I will admit that having CP has formed my character and in many ways has positively affected my outlook on life. However, if am completely honest, there are some childhood joys that I wish I could have experienced: learning how to skip, wearing flip-flops, and riding a bike without training wheels to name a few. Tizi and Lily will be able to enjoy all of these things and so much more—for this I am grateful, it is the sweetest treat of all.

Happy Halloween!

See Halloween photos here: http://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.917462471251.2345705.56005890&type=1&l=84e4c65e37

Do You See Me? Do You Like What You See?

October is a month of celebrations.  Hispanic  Heritage Month runs from September 15^th -October 15^th, Bully Prevention Month, Pastor Appreciation Month, National Breast Cancer Awareness Month, and National Disability Employment Awareness Month are all celebrated during October.  Not to mention MEA weekend for teachers, and Halloween!  As a media specialist, it is my job to coordinate our daily news program at school focusing on various celebrations this month.  With so many things happening, where should our focus lie?  I believe that during this month, and every month, the focus needs to be on people!

In late September, I had the opportunity to hear author Jonathan Friesen speak at a library meeting I attended.  Friesen has both Epilepsy and Turrets Syndrome.  As a junior high student, he endured a grand mal seizure while in class.  This incident labeled him a “freak,” by his peers and ultimately drove him to lock himself into his bedroom for two years!  Finally, one day, one of his classmates decided to stop by and visit him for an hour, just to see how he was doing.  This unexpected act of kindness encouraged Friesen and enabled him to return to school.  Friesen went on to become a teacher and is now a successful author!  You can learn more about him by visiting his Webpage: http://www.jonathanfriesen.com/.  If you have time, check out his 5 minute video so you can also hear him speak, it’s inspiring!  

Jonathan Friesen challenged me with this statement.  “Now that I’m an author, I decided I’m only going to write books that answer two questions, because I think there are only two questions that students are all asking of each other.  They’re simple, they’re so easy: Do you see me?  Do you like what you see?”  Wow!  I think Jonathan Friesen hit it right on the head.  When my students come in the media center, they need to know that they are seen and that their teacher likes who they see.  Realizing this has changed the way I interact with children.  I make it a priority to take attendance every day, calling each student by name, making eye contact with each person who walks through the door.  I believe the saying is true, “People don’t care how much you know until they know how much you care.”  I believe students are motivated to learn when they know they are loved.

Are Jonathan’s two questions applicable in the real world?  I think so!

It’s not only students who are asking the questions, “Do you see me, and do you like what you see,” it’s all of us.  As I realize this truth, I am led to a deeper question:  Do I take enough time during my day to truly see people?  Do I let them know that I like what I see?  Effective human communication has suffered due to the accelerated pace of our society.  In my rush to check everything off my “to-do” list before I head home, I don’t always take time to treasure the people I behold with my eyes.  Do you find yourself in the same situation?  Join me this month in my mission to see people!
 

Sometimes seeing other people is natural and enjoyable.  Recently, my two little nieces moved home to MN where I now have the luxury of seeing them on the weekends.  I love looking into their eyes, taking in how beautiful they are, and realizing that they look and act a little bit like me.  I love them so much—I think I could spend a whole day just looking them!  

Not everyone I meet is as beautiful or holds the same place in my heart as my nieces.  Some people are hard to treasure and behold.  It’s true.  This week I walked into a hardware store needing some help finding an item.  The sales associate I interacted with was cross-eyed.  I wasn’t sure how to make eye-contact.  It was awkward.  As we walked through the store, he kept asking me if I was okay.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”  To satisfy his relentless questioning, I finally turned to him with a smile and said, “I have cerebral palsy, so this is my natural gait.  I’m sure I’m okay.”  As I turned to walk away I heard him sigh, “Oh.”  I think we both failed to see each other.  

While out for coffee this week, I was talking with a friend I have known for years about our shared experiences of living with respective physical challenges.  As we were talking she made direct eye contact with me and I saw a look in her eyes of intense personal pain.  The look in her eyes matched what I have felt so many times.  It was like we were finally seeing each other….for the first time.  Beholding someone is a powerful relational tool.  

When beholding people with disabilities, I have found that patience is an important component, along with self-control.  When I’m listening to someone who processes information slowly or has speech impairment, I often have to resist the urge to mentally check out, hurry the conversation, or finish the other person’s sentences because my mind is working faster than their mouth.  It is in these moments, that I have started to challenge myself to behold the person in front of me.  I stare straight into their eyes because I believe the eyes are the window to the soul.  I remind myself of an important truth while I am waiting to hear them articulate their thoughts. “The person in front of me is a precious human being.  They deserve my respect and my attention as a fellow member of the human race.  They have a voice just like I do, and it deserves to be heard….I see you and I like what I see.”

This month you might find yourself studying Hispanic history, breaking up fights on the playground, sending a thank you note to your pastor, dawning a pink ribbon, or employing a person with a disability.  While you are putting your finishing touches on your Halloween costume, consider leaving the mask at home.  This month, join me on my mission to see people.  Let’s let people know that they are noticed and treasured in the eyes of their beholders. 

Falling Into Inspiration

September 29, 2011

Sometimes a writer doesn't have inspiration until it hits her in the face, quite literally. This week I fell. I was walking down a hallway with waxed floors while wearing rubber soled shoes. This is a very bad combination. To make matters worse, both hands were full and my mind was preoccupied with a catchy tune. Just as I got to one of my favorite parts of the song, I fell down, muttered an expletive under my breath, and got up....only to fall again two steps later!

I've fallen enough to know that bruises hurt, so even though it is time consuming, you must ice yourself immediately! Reluctantly, I followed my own advice and took time out of my day to ice my aching parts. While I sat there and sulked (there's not much else to do when you have ice packs pressed against your elbow and hip), I thought about how the biggest bruises happen not on the knee or on the shin, but on the soul.

Falling consistently can wound a person, taking a little bit of their dignity and sense of control away with each blunder. “This shouldn't be happening to me!” I silently screamed. “This is not how I wanted to start my day!” To make matters worse, I felt a little alone in this situation. Everyone was very transparent when expressing their care and concern, but were reserved in their desire to talk about my morning episode. No one wants to say the wrong thing. I'm not really sure how to talk about it either. Often, I feel a mixture of sadness and anger all at once blistering beneath the surface along with the need to keep these emotions in check so I can go about my day normally.

So, as my ice began to warm, I realized that my next blog entry had to be about falling. Writing is a healer, right? I also think the old adage is true, “Laughter is the best medicine,” so to heal my bruised soul and crushed spirit, to buoy my self-esteem, I offer you my top ten all time best falls that I've ever had! Each one is named with a fitting superlative! Enjoy!

Jenny's Top Ten Falls of All Time

1. Hardest Hit Last year I thought I would be helpful and carry a box of items out to the car of a friend who was in the process of moving. As I was exiting her house with the box in tow, I lost my balance, fell off the stoop, and hit my head on a landscaping rock. That hurt. It was also one of my most scariest because it was the first time I've ever had to consider the possibility of a concussion. Luckily, I ended up being fine.
   
2. Always a Bridesmaid, Never a Bride I fell while waiting to catch the bouquet at my best friend's wedding. We had a do-over, but I still didn't catch the bouquet. Rats!
   
3. Incidental Improv I got up to exit the auditorium during the intermission of a play. As I was walking forward, I lost my balance when I ran into a tray table that was not properly stowed. I then proceeded to fall sideways, butt first into the auditorium chair immediately to my left of the row in front of me. Before I even understood what happened, I found myself stuck backwards in a chair with my legs sticking straight up. People didn't know whether to laugh or cry. It took two people to help me out of my perplexing position and a week before I was pain free.
4. Teenage Rebellion Once while stepping out of my parent's car in junior high, I slipped and fell on the curb. My mom reached out to help me and I snapped my arm away and sneered, “Don't help me up unless I ask.” That was very ungracious of me. I address the proper protocol to help someone up when you witness a fall at the end of this posting.
   
5. Saved By the Bell I was late for 1^st hour class one morning as a freshman in high school. The bell began to ring, and I began to hurry. I fell through the threshold of the door as I entered the classroom. The teacher was so consumed with helping me up that she totally forgot about me being tardy.
   
   
6. Repeat Offender That's the name I've affectionately given to the incident that happened this week.
   
   
7. Shower of Shame One morning while in the shower, I lost my balance after stepping on my plastic drain cover. Reaching for something to hang on to, the only thing I could find was the door handle of my shower. Grabbing on, I fell out the door and landed naked and wet on the ground: half inside the shower, half out. I may be exaggerating a little bit, but half of my body was purple for the better part of the week. I was concerned about getting to work on time, so I neglected to ice my affected areas. This is not a mistake I am likely to repeat. This event also prompted the purchase and installation of grab bars on my shower and tub along with adhesive stickers for the floor surface of these areas. I've never had a problem since!
   
   
8. Inspired Irony One Sunday afternoon, I tripped and fell in the church parking lot. This was awkward because I often like to collect myself in private but there's always this mixture of needing help after falling at the same time as wanting complete confidentiality. In this situation, I was bleeding, so I was going to need attention whether it was invited or not. People around me saw what happened and offered to help. I wanted to say to them, “I know it's church and you're supposed to be nice, but just go away!” That's not even the ironic part of the story. I was carrying a book in my hands while this happened. Guess what the title was: “Walking and Stumbling.” Not kidding!
   
   
9. If only the cameras were rolling they would have caught a hilarious moment! I attempted to throw a frisbee, and while doing so, the disc went one way and I went the other. We both hit the ground quickly. Maybe you had to be there for that one, but I'm sure that if Bob Saget would have seen the footage, I would have been awarded money!
   
   
10. I need some Ice-Ice-Baby. Coming out of the cafeteria at college, I slipped and fell down several concrete steps that were coated with ice. The recovery from that injury was long and I think it left me with some permanent damage. Railings are a must when going down any stairway and after falling, I am extremely cautious as I traverse outside during the winter months.

There you have it. My top ten falls of all time! Every time I fall, people try to tell me that falling is normal. This is then followed by, “I fell once..” To which I silently think, “You fell once. That must be nice. Try falling once a month and then we should talk.” My reaction is a little cruel, so I invite you to prove me wrong. Send me your best falling story, or even attempt to draft your own top 10. You would be surprised how fun it is!

Finally, I promised to share some thoughts about how to react when you see someone falling. Here is my perspective: When you see someone fall, I think the situation demands that you offer to help that person up. However, be open to that offer being refused. As much as you want to help, realize the best thing you can do is respect the person's response whether it is a yes or no. When I fall, sometimes I would like assistance getting on my feet because I am stuck (as in Incidental Improv) or injured/bleeding (as in Ice-Ice-Baby, and Inspired Irony). However, after my brush with the Repeat Offender this week, I realized that helping myself up is one of the most powerful things I can do. If falling takes away my sense of control, helping myself up gives it back.

The Need for Role Models

September 18, 2011

When I was young, one of the careers I considered was becoming a medical doctor. I spent much time around doctors in my younger years and was inspired by their knowledge, compassion, and expertise. Indeed, my orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Koop, was one of my childhood heros! As I grew up, I discovered that I really didn't like spending time in clinics, hospitals scare me, and I don't like to be around sick people if I can help it. In the end, I concluded that my involvement in the medical field is best limited to watching medical dramas on TV. Besides, could I really keep up with the physical demands that are required to become a doctor? I have never met or heard of a member of the medical community with cerebral palsy: doctor or nurse.

Until two weeks ago.

After posting my last blog entry I heard from an old HS friend who is now a doctor. She shared with me that one of her fellow residents that she currently works with has cerebral palsy. This idea encouraged and inspired me! Wow! There really are people out there with CP who make it through medical school with all of its requirements of spending long hours on your feet tending to patients.

What a role model this person must be to his peers, patients, and their parents. What hope he must be able to offer families that he meets, especially when they have a child with CP or other disability. I think I would have been very inspired as a child to meet someone who shared my struggle and had found a place within one of the most prestigious professions in the working world.

I may not have ever met such a physician, but I was blessed in my developing years to have strong role models in my family, many who are teachers like I eventually became. Education is a bit of a “family business” in the Hill household. I am a third generation educator and one of over 10 extended family members who teach. Three more are currently pursuing their license. Growing up, I watched my parents enjoy a balanced and family-friendly lifestyle. I saw how they loved kids and the opportunity to help students learn. Watching them in their career helped me make my ultimate career decision to become a school library media specialist.

Which brings me to my point: We all need role models, people who are willing to be an example for the next generation. I think having a role model helps others to see past their limitations and areas of weakness to envision how they might someday fit seamlessly into the working world of adults. It helps them to see that they have a future. What a difference adults can make when they speak a word of encouragement to someone younger. It could be as simple as, “I believe in you.” You never know how one word of encouragement can change the course of a person's life.

In addition to speaking words of encouragement, I think role models live a life that is an example for others to follow. This can be done in quiet ways like:

• Showing up for work on time,
• Following up with people in a timely manner
• Completing tasks to the best of your ability
• Eating right/exercise/stretching (this is where I fail miserably)
• Being available to the needs of others
• Fully listening/being present with others

Or, more formal ways like:

• Becoming a mentor
• Coaching
• Teaching
• Volunteering
• Job-Shadowing/Participating in career day

You never know who is watching and you never know when you may inspire a life. Be a role model! The next generation is looking for someone to look up to!

Dear Cicily...

If you could have a conversation with your 13-year-old self, what message, advice, or encouragement would you want to share?” To help answer this question, I posed it on Facebook. Here were the responses:

“Keep going and don't worry- you're going to love it!”

“Well, pretty much all of "Oh, the Places You'll Go" by Dr. Seuss would be in that conversation. I would tell myself that things happen for a reason (most of the time) and to stay true myself, but not let people take advantage of my kind heart.”

“Go the extra mile even though you might not need to at the time.”

“You're normal, don't freak out!”

“Stop being so boy-crazy!”

“Everyone's not looking at you and judging you... just relax and enjoy life!”

I was soliciting responses to this question because I was recently asked to compose a birthday blessing for my friend Cicily Steinle who is turning 13 on September 23rd. Cicily and I have many things in common: we both love going to church, we both love reading books, and we both have cerebral palsy. While I was honored to write to Cicily, it also gave me pause to remember my teenage years. True, there were many moments of happiness: working at a local coffee shop with my friends, getting my driver's license, attending prom, and attempting to attack certain boy's cars and yards with plastic wrap and toilet paper. (I have to use the word attempting here because they sabotaged us that night with water balloons before we got a chance.)

Hanging out with my HS friends, waiting to pounce on the boys!

But, there were also moments of loneliness, times that were filled with pain and sadness, seasons of my life that I simply endured, waiting eagerly for them to pass so that I could someday become an adult. Watching my friends going out for sports would be one example. I am extremely happy that they had the opportunities and experiences they did through athletics, but it was painful growing up knowing that this was one social and physical experience that we would never share.

It was also in my teenage years that I began to develop a very unhealthy image of my body and suffered from poor self-esteem. I didn't like the fact that my feet don't match. I was tired all the time and envious of my peers who seemed to have limitless amounts of energy. I was actually asked once by another teenager if I felt awkward because I had braces on my teeth AND wore glasses. I'm 27 now, but I doubt I'll ever forget that moment. Even worse, I hate, hate, HATED when people who rarely socialized with me would approach and inquire, “Can I ask you a personal question....” Inevitably, they would want me to spill my guts about my disability, but often neglected to reciprocate by sharing information as deeply personal or offering friendship.

However, I did make a few friends in my teenage years, deep, genuine relationships that are still in tact today. And if my teenage years were sometimes filled with angst, they were also filled with glimmers of hope. Life would someday get better, I would not be a teenager forever.

I still remember seeing one of these glimmers of hope while reading Frank Peretti's book The Wounded Spirit when I was in High School. In his book Peretti candidly speaks of his experiences growing up with a condition called cystic hygroma. The condition caused his tongue to swell, oozing a black secretion from his mouth. His body was so busy coping, that his physical growth was delayed. School was an unpleasant experience most times, but I appreciated Peretti's retelling of his educational journey because I felt that I had found someone who understood my struggle. I felt this way until I got to the end of the book. I learned that Peretti didn't just understand my struggle, he had also come out successful on the other side...as adult. He writes:

“When I was a kid, I felt terrible about myself. My self-image was in the toilet because I couldn't throw or catch a football, I couldn't run very fast, and I was considered small and frail for my age. Today, I'm and adult; I'm an author and public speaker, I play in a talented acoustic band, I fly my own plane, I have a lovely wife, and a comfortable home tucked in the woods on the side of a mountain, and frankly, I don't cry too much about the fact that I can't throw or catch a football...God has a way of evening things out” (2000, p. 144). 

Meeting Frank Peretti at a book signing as a teenager.  His book The Visitation had just come out.

 

I hung on to Peretti's words throughout adolescence, daring to believe that Peretti was right. Now that I too have made it to adulthood, I believe he is! Things do get better. Phy. Ed class does end, permanently! Your range of interests expands as you discover activities that lie beyond the school setting. You and your peer group mature, enabling you all to appreciate each other with deeper clarity. Growing and maturing as a person is hard work. Work that doesn't finish when the pimples disappear from your face. Ultimately, if I could have a conversation with my 13-year old self, one thing I would say is this, the past may be filled with sorrow, but hold onto the hope that your future will be filled with joy!

References

Peretti, F. (2000). The wounded spirit. Nashville, TN: Word Publishing.

Cicily Steinle's name was used with permission.