There are able bodied people who have asked me if it is difficult for me to "ask for help all the time.” The answer is no. There are several reasons for this...
I was born with a physical disability known as Cerebral Palsy. As a result I use a power wheelchair: I also live with limited gross and fine motor skills and a visual impairment. Nevertheless, I was taught to believe that all things are possible with God as it says in Phil 4:13. I can do [...]
Much of the rhetoric in our society about pain suggests that it can, and should, be used as a catalyst to become stronger. But why is strength the goal? Is weakness always a problem?
People with developmental disabilities, people like Sam, have taught me that each person matters. These days, we often forget about the one, about individual people – we are so distracted by all the things and the many people which call for our attention.
This is not the love of romance stories or Hollywood endings. This is the kind of love that brings you to the end of yourself and then beyond. The kind of love that takes all you’ve got during the day and keeps you up at night. Real. Costly. Love.
Supporting a person with a developmental disability to grieve is not a matter of coming alongside, but of remaining where we already were.
It is a long and slow process for me, a well-educated and nondisabled white male, to appreciate and to pay attention to the ways that God is working on the margins. But whether it is in pausing my frantic productivity to gaze for a moment at crisp pin-points of light in the night sky or in turning my attention to a neighbour who does not use words to communicate, I am “Learning how to say ‘Hallelujah’ from the ones who say it right.”
God’s order is not our own, and the upside-down Kingdom is often led by those whom we might prefer to ignore or condemn. “Teacher, rebuke your disciples!” the Pharisees demand. I tell you,” he replied, “if they keep quiet, the stones will cry out.” Pay close enough attention, he instructs, and if we’re quiet we will hear even the voice of these silent rocks.
I want everyone to have the experience that I had that day – to be in a space where there is true love and acceptance for each member. Where people show up with their whole, unedited selves and are embraced.
As we welcome the new year, we're pleased to share this poem by Mike Bonikowsky.