"I'm thankful for..."

            Everyone is seated around the table; the air is filled with a mix of traditional Thanksgiving dishes and the aroma of various family members’ perfume and cologne.  The room seems impossibly warm yet no one complains, for it’s difficult to decipher between the actual physical heat and the warm fuzzies that being with family provides.  My grandfather offers up a heartfelt prayer of gratitude for all that the Lord has blessed us with, the prayer is closed with the joining of everyone’s voices singing of the “Doxology”.  The passing of plates starts, a guessing game of “is this my fork, my neighbor’s fork, or the turkey plate’s fork?” begins – it seems that the quiet moments of the beginning of the meal are long gone.  Eventually someone starts my favorite part of the day, the actual giving of thanks and the chaos leaves as quickly as it appeared.  “I’m thankful for…”

            Each year I try to come up with a new answer, something that is distinctly of the year (for example this year I could say something about graduating).  However what I am most thankful for does not come and go each year.  It sounds utterly cliché to say that it’s my family and friends that truly fill me with the Thanksgiving spirit, but it’s true.  The list of reasons why is never ending and always expanding, yet I think that the aspects of these relationships that I appreciate most are often the ones that I don’t notice every day.  Near the top of that list of reasons why is the mere fact that they cause me to forget about the most obvious part of my life.  Even though the way I do things is almost entirely different than the vast majority of people I know rarely do I realize what causes me to have to make those adaptations.  Instances like the other day illustrate this point: my mom asked me a question about jump ropes and I told her that I had no clue about the answer.  “How could you not know?!?” she asked, I simply pointed to myself, an “Oh” was uttered as she answered her own question.  Experiences like my father bumping my chair up and down hundreds of steps at Watkins Glenn State Park without thinking twice about it make me realize how sacrifices are sometimes made so I can feel “normal”. 

            There are times when it’s completely different circumstances that cause me to feel saturated with gratitude.  Like the time almost exactly three years ago when I flew back to college with a fellow classmate and dear friend when all the parts besides for the frame of my wheelchair were left in Syracuse, while I was in Nashville.  Although that morning was excruciatingly long due to having to wait around for the airline to determine where exactly the pieces to my chair were, I was never alone.  The entire existence the Wheel Deal is due to the prodding of my best friend, and the resurrection of it is the product of some of his very late night pep talks.  I feel quite ordinary most of the time and forget that I’m different.  Even times when I am cognizant of my uniqueness the thought that others might actually want to read about those differences doesn’t usually cross my mind.  Sometimes you just need to be reminded not only of the fact that you are special, but also that you can share what makes you that way.  I am undoubtedly grateful that I have friends and family that do that.

            As I continue to grow into adulthood it becomes more apparent that thanksgiving isn’t something that happens on the last Thursday of November each year, it should be an everyday practice.  With age comes the realization that reality doesn’t always play nice.  It’s easy to feel like you’re being beat up by the punches that life sometimes throws at you.  However we’re not called to be victims of circumstance or “bad luck”.  With a mixture of hard work and having the right attitude your outlook changes and you’re able to bob and weave when those punches come your way.  The feeling of life taking too much from you can be combated by giving thanks for even the little things.  When I can’t get somewhere because of my chair it would be easy to get discouraged by those circumstances, but what good would that do?  Instead I think about all the things that I can do, and how there are more opportunities than ever for people who are disabled.  When I can feel the awkward stares, or when people talk to others I’m with but not to me because of my chair it’s sometimes difficult not get a little agitated by their ignorance.  I’m forever thankful that I can surround myself with people that I can joke with about being disabled cuts that mindset of being annoyed with society off.  It seems almost sad that there is only one day a year where the practice of giving thanks is given top billing.  You  don’t need to have a feast every day, and it would be impossible for New York City to shut down the streets used for the Macy’s parade on a more than yearly basis – yet that doesn’t mean that Thanksgiving only has to happen once a year.  Also a byproduct of thanksgiving is that feeling of warmth I described earlier.  I’m positive stems from counting of one’s blessings.  I know that because my hands are freezing right now and I’m sure the ground outside is dusted with frost, yet I feel immeasurably warm inside.  

emBracing Curiosity

“Emmy!  Emmy!  Emmy! Emmy!”  That is rapidly becoming one of my very favorite things to hear, which is saying something because I typically detest being called “Emmy”.  However when it’s coming out of the mouth of a 28 pound, 31 inch tall blonde haired boy it’s an entirely different story.  My nephew Jeremiah has me so tightly wrapped around his finger (and I’m sure he knows it, he’s brilliant after all) that he could call me practically anything and I’d love it.  After the yelling of names and running towards each other we end up hand to foot, his hands braced against the bottoms of my feet.  As he pulls my feet apart (I say “he” because he tries, but really I do the heavy lifting) to clear room on my chair to sit with me I pull him up sit on my lap.  After I force him to give me a hug he settles in on my lap between my braces and we’re off.  Jer has been sitting with me in my chair since the day he was born, and I always thought that as he grew up into a little person he wouldn’t want to, or he wouldn’t sit still as I turn the wheels.  However it’s just the opposite, it isn’t until I stop moving that he gets antsy, most likely thinking that if he wiggles around enough the chair will magically start to move again.

As one would anticipate the more Jer develops the more he discovers about the world he lives in, thus making him more curious about his aunt who’s different than everybody.  I tend to be fairly oblivious to how people perceive my chair, but I’m trying to be more conscious about that – partly because it’s just plain interesting to know what others think of you and why they think it.  The first time I remember my disability causing Jer to think is when he was sitting on my lap while I had my braces on.  I wear full length (foot to upper thigh) braces with lockable knee joints.  My braces are like weirdly shaped metal legs – not super comfy to lean against.  One day Jer climbed up on my lap, settled in his usual place and suddenly got this very disgusted look on his face.  He hit my brace, squawked something in baby gibberish that I’m sure meant, “Dude Auntie Em what’s with the hard legs?!?”, and then he grabbed the end of my pant leg and tried to inspect what was making my lap feel different.  The tailoring of my pants didn’t allow him to inspect my braces much though, which frustrated him for about half of a millisecond and then life moved on.

A few days later we were at my house and I went into my room to grab something.  As I’ve come to expect Jer followed after me to inspect everything he could get his hands on.  There on my floor laid my braces and I saw a teachable moment.  I encouraged him to manipulate them, pull the Velcro straps, slide the knee locks, knock on the hard fiberglass backs.  After he was done inspecting them I put one on over my non-braced, pajama clad leg so he could see.  He stared with wide eyes as he watched my normal legs put a different costume on.  Once braced I pulled him up on my lap like we normally would so he could see what he feels when he sits on my lap. 

Knowing that the chances of him remembering all the discoveries he made that afternoon were slim I still felt it important to encourage him to make those connections.  I’ve never had the opportunity to be the sole person that someone bases their opinion about people in wheelchairs on.  Spending so much time with Jer has really spurred me to be cognizant of how the perceptions of people are crafted.  My hope is that he grows up with a healthy curiosity about not only what makes people different, but about his entire world.  I want him to not only wonder and question, but be mindful enough to try and understand that which he doesn’t know.  What a different place the world would be if as much as people questioned, they allowed themselves to learn and be taught with an attitude of understanding and not simply knowing.  

A Whole New Wheel Deal

            Yes, this really is a new post.  I know that it’s been over a year since my last entry, and if I could go back in the space time continuum and not get so far behind on posting - I would.  All the typical excuses for my lack of writing like these: “I’ve been so busy”, “I have so much to say that I’m overwhelmed and don’t know where to begin”, and “Nobody reads this thing anyways, why post”, could be used.  Although all of those lines are true (except for the last one of course), they’re pretty pitiful excuses.  Many have told me I should write more, and I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t felt guilty for ignoring The WD.  So in the spirit for the looming holiday season why not get a jump start on New Year’s resolutions and start writing on a regular basis again?

            Like most 22 year old recent college graduates I feel like my entire world is changing and I’m not quite sure how to keep up with the change.  Before my long absence from you all I was connecting the final dots on my student teaching plan.  The university I graduated from is in Nashville, and the school district where I student taught is in Central New York.  My university was willing to allow me to student teach out of state, however I was responsible for all the arrangements - something that I was not aware would be so tedious.  Yet it all worked out.  I ended up student teaching in two classrooms; first with my former fifth grade teacher in her class, and then in a second grade classroom with “the fun teacher” (at least that’s how I remembered her from when I was in second grade).  It was a truly shaping experience, and although I’m not exactly drawn to the idea of teaching in the traditional classroom sense, I wouldn’t have traded my time there for anything.  I can’t wait to relive some of those memories and reflect on the lessons learned through these entries.

            With student teaching came a move – back home full time to the house I grew up in.  What has been one of the most interesting things about living in the college dorms is that within my one room I can almost completely tailor it to meet the needs of me and my chair and not worry how those changes impacted others.  Also at school many daily tasks were just different, like doing laundry in the big laundry room.  Since there are several washers in one room the machines are smaller than the typical family sized washer.  With the smaller machines I was able to reach all the controls and down to the bottom of the washer – thus I could actually do my own laundry.  I didn’t fully appreciate the ability to not have to depend on others till I came home.  (Not to say my parents weren’t more than happy to do my laundry, I just hated waiting for laundry day to wash my most often worn hoodies)  My parents have always done pretty well trying to make our 1850’s house work as best for me as they can.  Recently our washing machine of 24 years finally went kaput; it was replaced with a front loading machine – enabling me to finally do laundry independently at home for the first time.

            This spring I crossed another hurdle in my quest for independence – I purchased a brand new 2011 Dodge Caravan that is currently in Phoenix, Arizona being modified.  Driving has been a work in progress since the day I went to the DMV to take my learners permit test as a 16 year old.  As anyone who needs special modifications for driving will tell you, they aren’t cheap.  New York state has a program that assists those who need modifications, however in order gain any funding you must follow their process (even if it doesn’t always make sense), and jump through what seems like hundreds of hoops.  Now over half a dozen years later I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It’s funny, I made an appoint that’s a month away and for the first time I thought “hey if my mom can’t take me I could drive myself”.  It was an exciting realization.

            In May my family and I trekked to Nashville for the final time (at least for school related reasons) to participate in graduation activities.  It was a blur of a trip, not only was I graduating but I needed to do several presentations about my student teaching experience.  I tried to connect with some dear Nashville friends while I was there but I must say, my brain was pretty scattered at that point and although I was there, I wasn’t really “there”.  I think everyone has moments in their life when the craziness seems to overwhelm you, much like a computer just freezes when there are too many applications running.  When I first went to school in Nashville in 2007 I never anticipated that city so far from everything I knew ever feeling like home.  However when we pulled out of the school gate for the final time my heart (and my tear ducts) told me that this city had indeed become a home to me.  Never would I have thought that I could survive living on my own, hundreds of miles from home – yet it did.  Making it through four years of intensive learning is a great feat on its own, yet I feel like simply living and surviving was a greater accomplishment. 

            Although I’m currently jobless (I can’t get a job until I have a way to get there.  COME ON VAN GET HERE!) I still have a sense of busyness to my life.  I’ve been working a lot in our church offices with my mom who’s needed some extra help there.  Also I’ve been watching my now 18 month old nephew a few days a week while my sister works in the emergency room at a local hospital.  Watching my nephew gives me that feeling of “I never thought I could do this, but I can, and I can do it well”.  Anyone that has young kids or spent lots of time with wee ones can testify that they can be challenging to fully abled bodied people, so to know that I can successfully care for this tiny person is a pretty big accomplishment.  As the youngest in my family I never got the backstage pass to the childhood development from infancy show, so this experience is not only one that fills my heart with an immeasurable amount of love, but it also fascinates me.  It is truly an interesting experience watching someone discover your disability - I think he’s even helping me discover new things.

            Well I just glanced down at the word counter and I’m over 1000, which means I should wrap this “Welcome Back” entry up (and perhaps begin a new one).  Again, please accept my deepest apologies for my unscheduled absence.  It certainly wasn’t that I didn’t think about writing, I simply didn’t even know where to begin.  However now I’ve taken the first step – I hear that’s that most difficult part.