January is the time for New Beginnings. Society gives us the green light for these few weeks after New Years to shed our old mistakes, and begin anew. Our past is left aside, and the world cheers us on as we start fresh. New Beginnings.
On Friday, Doug took delivery of his first wheelchair. New Beginnings. He was very tentative at first. He let Freddy[1] go first. Once Freddy gave the thumbs up of approval, Doug allowed us to help him in. He was not at all sure about this. Neither was I. He's still walking, running, and almost jumping. What are we doing with a wheelchair? Take this thing away and give it to someone who needs it! But he does need it. Long distances are tiring for him, and he's too old for the stroller. Seeing him sit up in the chair makes his eye-contact height much more appropriate. He's not a little kid anymore. I'm already beginning to see a few more things that will change. Our walls will have some new marks - Doug's steering is pretty darn good already, but those footrests are not exactly 5mph bumpers. Some furniture will need to be moved to allow our new Mario Andretti space to practice. On the other hand, some things will be staying the same - for now. Doug doesn't need the chair for his daily living yet. He will still be walking whenever we can let him. We'll use his chair for times and places where his endurance simply isn't up to the task. New Beginnings.
Allison commented to me that it just looked so wrong to see such him sitting there, dwarfed by the size of his chair. I can see what she means, but I think I see it a little differently. What I saw there was the captain of a starship. Sitting up tall in the big captain's chair - finally in charge of his world, and all that he could see. New Beginnings.
We had a sermon in church today about something I've blogged about before. Part of it was about making the most of now - since the past cannot be changed, and the future cannot be experienced. It was given by a friend - a friend who lost his wife to cancer last year. New Beginnings. I was challenged today about how I am living my life. I'm pretty sure I'm not living in the shadows - slinking around and doing evil without regard to my fellow man. I'm not as sure, however, if I'm basking in the radiant heat that the full sunlight of God's love is. I think I may be spending my time in what were referred to as Borderlands. A belt of trees between the bright sunlight of God's love and the dark depths of evil - a place where "the good" go to hide from God, but not completely leave the light that filters through the trees. In my life, this takes the form of living day by day - fending off the crisis of the day, and simply being content to reach the end of the day without a mental meltdown. No goals, no joy, simply existence. His sermon contained a call to action. A call to take what we know about God in our heads, and apply it to our hearts. To take what we know about loving our neighbours and to turn it into the act of loving our neighbours. And to do it now - not tomorrow. At the end of his sermon, Peter issued the call - come forward if you want to make a statement that you are making a fresh start. I'm always uncomfortable at those sorts of challenges - I never know if I'm doing/not doing for the right reasons. Today was the same - only different. I did not hear a clear call to come forward. What I heard was that staying where I was was not an option. I could go forward, or I could go out the door at the back - but the status quo was not acceptable today. I went forward. New Beginnings.
How this will play out, I don't know. But 2008 is a fresh year. I can't change yesterday, and I can't do squat about tomorrow. But I can live right now. New Beginnings.
[1] His favourite companion - a stuffed frog.
Sunday, January 13, 2008
Monday, December 3, 2007
Biker Down - But not out
It's been a rough couple of weeks for my Little Biker. He's had a few spills, and taken a few lumps.
It started with a tumble off a bed while watching TV. Apparently (according to his sister) he laughed himself right off the bed over something he saw. Unfortunately, the laughing stopped when he banged his arm on the floor. Tough little guy though, he got over it in his typical fashion, but still was favouring it. I had sent Allison off for a week of scrapbooking, so Dr. Dad was in charge.
Dr. Dad waited a few more days, and realizing that he wasn't using his left hand at all (he's left handed), took him to the clinic for a look over. The doctor tried a few things, but couldn't narrow down where or how bad things were. He gave us a week to watch it to see if things improved. They didn't. So we piggybacked another doctors appointment onto the annual (yelp) flu shots. Our family doctor suspected an elbow, so we went off for X-rays. Sure enough, he's cracked something in his elbow. No cast necessary, just "take it easy".
Right. Ever lived with a 5 year old and an 8 year old before? Let's just say that there have been more than a handful of "bumping the injury" incidents.
Anyhow - fast forward to this weekend. Out celebrating a birthday with friends (Happy Birthday Katie!) and Doug takes a tumble. On hardwood. Fortunately, it didn't jar his elbow too hard. Unfortunately, this was because he didn't put his hands out to catch himself. He hit the floor with a resounding smack - teeth first. Again, the tough little guy only cried for a few minutes, but the blood was flowing. Did his teeth still look straight? Allison figured they weren't. I thought they looked close enough. Today, we got the dentist's opinion. "Impacted tooth". It's been pushed up.
The good news is that Doug is almost at the loose-tooth stage of life anyhow. This was about the "safest" time he could have done this. The roots of the baby teeth are pretty much dissolved with the adult teeth coming, and the adult teeth have a hard crown all ready to go. In between, there is extra space and cushion. Long term prognosis is very very good. In the short term, there are several things that might happen. The tooth may be pushed back into place by the swelling, and things return to normal. The tooth may stay recessed until it naturally loosens and falls out. The blood vessels to the tooth may have been damaged, in which case the tooth may take on a grey shade - until it loosens naturally and falls out. Or, the swelling may increase too much, and the dentist may have to pull it. Odds are on the side of the first few alternatives.
Bottom line, in a week or so, he should be able to bite and chew with his front teeth again.
Who said life was safe anyways. Good thing kids are built tough. Yeah, he's been down a few times this month - but like all good bikers Doug will be "shiny side up" before we know it. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
It started with a tumble off a bed while watching TV. Apparently (according to his sister) he laughed himself right off the bed over something he saw. Unfortunately, the laughing stopped when he banged his arm on the floor. Tough little guy though, he got over it in his typical fashion, but still was favouring it. I had sent Allison off for a week of scrapbooking, so Dr. Dad was in charge.
Dr. Dad waited a few more days, and realizing that he wasn't using his left hand at all (he's left handed), took him to the clinic for a look over. The doctor tried a few things, but couldn't narrow down where or how bad things were. He gave us a week to watch it to see if things improved. They didn't. So we piggybacked another doctors appointment onto the annual (yelp) flu shots. Our family doctor suspected an elbow, so we went off for X-rays. Sure enough, he's cracked something in his elbow. No cast necessary, just "take it easy".
Right. Ever lived with a 5 year old and an 8 year old before? Let's just say that there have been more than a handful of "bumping the injury" incidents.
Anyhow - fast forward to this weekend. Out celebrating a birthday with friends (Happy Birthday Katie!) and Doug takes a tumble. On hardwood. Fortunately, it didn't jar his elbow too hard. Unfortunately, this was because he didn't put his hands out to catch himself. He hit the floor with a resounding smack - teeth first. Again, the tough little guy only cried for a few minutes, but the blood was flowing. Did his teeth still look straight? Allison figured they weren't. I thought they looked close enough. Today, we got the dentist's opinion. "Impacted tooth". It's been pushed up.
The good news is that Doug is almost at the loose-tooth stage of life anyhow. This was about the "safest" time he could have done this. The roots of the baby teeth are pretty much dissolved with the adult teeth coming, and the adult teeth have a hard crown all ready to go. In between, there is extra space and cushion. Long term prognosis is very very good. In the short term, there are several things that might happen. The tooth may be pushed back into place by the swelling, and things return to normal. The tooth may stay recessed until it naturally loosens and falls out. The blood vessels to the tooth may have been damaged, in which case the tooth may take on a grey shade - until it loosens naturally and falls out. Or, the swelling may increase too much, and the dentist may have to pull it. Odds are on the side of the first few alternatives.
Bottom line, in a week or so, he should be able to bite and chew with his front teeth again.
Who said life was safe anyways. Good thing kids are built tough. Yeah, he's been down a few times this month - but like all good bikers Doug will be "shiny side up" before we know it. At least that's what I'm telling myself.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Why all the suffering?
A couple of weeks ago, I got an e-mail from a friend. She is suffering emotionally, and it is a challenge just getting out of bed. I know that feeling. Some days, it seems like there is just so much of life "stacked up against you" that you really just don't have the strength to get up and face the day.
Then, at about the same time, our church prayed for someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. Again. More pain, and more suffering. Why does God let that happen? Isn't he our loving father? What kind of father would let this sort of thing continue? Seems mean to me.
Just this week, we once again prayed for someone in pain. This lady has been in extreme daily chronic pain for over a decade. How does God let that happen? Where is the glory in that? "Look at this person who follows Jesus. See how much she suffers?". It doesn't seem to add up.
I've been thinking about this for a while. There has to be something deeper. Something that can make it all make sense. I cannot - in spite of all that I see happening - believe that a God of love has a mean streak. I think this comes back again once more to eternal perspective.
Eternal perspective changes how we look at things. Instead of limiting ourselves to our emotions, feelings, and limited time, we take a big step back and look at things "from God's view". What purpose does suffering have here on earth?
I think that God allows us to suffer because it makes more room in the world for love. Love is the greatest gift that we can give to another person. And the more pain, sorrow, and suffering there is on this earth, the more opportunities we have to give and receive love. Yes, we can love those who aren't suffering too, but the deep connections we make with others are more often and more tightly forged in the fires of adversity. Just like intense heat and pressure turn coal into diamonds - pain, suffering, and sorrow turn mere acquaintances into deep friendships. Spending time with someone and sharing in their suffering creates a deep bond that cannot be duplicated in any other way. And in the sum total of things of value on this wounded sphere, love tops the list.
How great is it that the more you hurt, the more love you experience.
Then, at about the same time, our church prayed for someone who has been diagnosed with cancer. Again. More pain, and more suffering. Why does God let that happen? Isn't he our loving father? What kind of father would let this sort of thing continue? Seems mean to me.
Just this week, we once again prayed for someone in pain. This lady has been in extreme daily chronic pain for over a decade. How does God let that happen? Where is the glory in that? "Look at this person who follows Jesus. See how much she suffers?". It doesn't seem to add up.
I've been thinking about this for a while. There has to be something deeper. Something that can make it all make sense. I cannot - in spite of all that I see happening - believe that a God of love has a mean streak. I think this comes back again once more to eternal perspective.
Eternal perspective changes how we look at things. Instead of limiting ourselves to our emotions, feelings, and limited time, we take a big step back and look at things "from God's view". What purpose does suffering have here on earth?
I think that God allows us to suffer because it makes more room in the world for love. Love is the greatest gift that we can give to another person. And the more pain, sorrow, and suffering there is on this earth, the more opportunities we have to give and receive love. Yes, we can love those who aren't suffering too, but the deep connections we make with others are more often and more tightly forged in the fires of adversity. Just like intense heat and pressure turn coal into diamonds - pain, suffering, and sorrow turn mere acquaintances into deep friendships. Spending time with someone and sharing in their suffering creates a deep bond that cannot be duplicated in any other way. And in the sum total of things of value on this wounded sphere, love tops the list.
How great is it that the more you hurt, the more love you experience.
Thursday, October 25, 2007
I just want to play with my friends
This week I went to a PAC (parent advisory council) meeting. Doug's school has a rather old playground, and the PAC has been fund raising for a while now for a new one. This meeting was to make a few decisions about what type of equipment to buy.
Seeing as Doug will be one of the users of this equipment, I went to the meeting to see what was planned.
Underneath the surface I had a slight feeling of apprehension. What do I do if the equipment they're looking at isn't "Doug friendly"? How big a priority is accessibility? The school playground is where many of the deepest friendships in your life are cemented. How many of us have friends from "way back" whose relationship has survived the fickle sands of time? All due to the hours of playing on the monkey bars, adventure playground and soccer fields. It's pretty important. On the other hand, who am I to hold hostage the selection of new equipment just because my ONE child can't use it? That isn't fair at all either. This stuff serves hundreds of other kids a year, and will long outlast Doug's time at school.
How can I strike a balance between making my point and being a team player? Do I really have to prepare myself to go into another battle on Doug's behalf? Don't get me wrong, I'll gladly do it - my trusty shield may be a little dented by now, but I'm still game.
It turns out that my worries were all for naught. The PAC has a Recreational Therapist (I hope I got that right) on board with the planning. She's been considering accessibility for all sorts of disabilities, and assisting in the planning to make something that is fun for everyone - including those who come with their own needs. The PAC members continually considered the accessibility angle, and demonstrated an extremely inclusive approach. It looks like I can sit this battle out. The enemy - if any - is outnumbered by friends of Doug here.
You can talk all you want about accessibility. Surface type, transition points, upper and lower body equipment, play paths, etc. But when it all comes down to it, I think I can succinctly voice my opinion on what type of equipment to get:
Seeing as Doug will be one of the users of this equipment, I went to the meeting to see what was planned.
Underneath the surface I had a slight feeling of apprehension. What do I do if the equipment they're looking at isn't "Doug friendly"? How big a priority is accessibility? The school playground is where many of the deepest friendships in your life are cemented. How many of us have friends from "way back" whose relationship has survived the fickle sands of time? All due to the hours of playing on the monkey bars, adventure playground and soccer fields. It's pretty important. On the other hand, who am I to hold hostage the selection of new equipment just because my ONE child can't use it? That isn't fair at all either. This stuff serves hundreds of other kids a year, and will long outlast Doug's time at school.
How can I strike a balance between making my point and being a team player? Do I really have to prepare myself to go into another battle on Doug's behalf? Don't get me wrong, I'll gladly do it - my trusty shield may be a little dented by now, but I'm still game.
It turns out that my worries were all for naught. The PAC has a Recreational Therapist (I hope I got that right) on board with the planning. She's been considering accessibility for all sorts of disabilities, and assisting in the planning to make something that is fun for everyone - including those who come with their own needs. The PAC members continually considered the accessibility angle, and demonstrated an extremely inclusive approach. It looks like I can sit this battle out. The enemy - if any - is outnumbered by friends of Doug here.
You can talk all you want about accessibility. Surface type, transition points, upper and lower body equipment, play paths, etc. But when it all comes down to it, I think I can succinctly voice my opinion on what type of equipment to get:
I just want Doug to be able to play with his friends.
Sunday, October 7, 2007
A Time for Thanksgiving
Today, a friend of mine, a thinker, gave the sermon. It was his first, and he did a really good job in spite of what looked like a healthy case of the nerves. What he did for me was remind me of perspective. Ecclesiastes 3 has the famous passage about "for every thing, there is a season. A time for..." Another passage that sprung to my mind as he preached was 1 Thessalonians 5:18 "... in everything give thanks..."
On the one hand, there is a season for everything. A time to weep, and a time to laugh - and given today's date (Thanksgiving), a time to give thanks. So I've dedicated today's writing session to a challenge to myself. I'm going to write today about Thanksgiving. I'm going to attempt to capture ways that I am thankful for Doug's Muscular Dystrophy. Fasten your seat belts, I don't know where this will end up.
I am thankful for the people I have met on this journey. When you meet people who are going through, or have been through something like this, the emotional bonds you create with them are incredibly deep. A shared experience like this produces a connection that would otherwise take years and years to build.
I am thankful for my friends and family. They may not know it, but I draw deeply on their emotional and physical support. They meet needs both large and small without knowing it, and often without proper recognition or thanks.
I am thankful for the way I have experienced the generousity of strangers. Through Doug's needs, I have a renewed hope in the "spirit of mankind". "Religious" or not, God has built people with a inner desire to be charitable to each other. We don't see this everyday, as most of us have built walls up to hide behind. Give people an excuse though, and watch love and kindness flow out of the most unlikely people. Take a step back, and watch God coordinate the charity of many unrelated threads into a completed tapestry. I am thankful for being able to watch the the Master Weaver at work here. (Heck, did you see how many bikers showed up for the Vancouver Toy Run today in the cold rain?)
I am thankful for the slow progression of DMD. I get to wake up each day to a son who looks and acts very much like the day and week before. I am thankful that I don't yet have to lie awake at night wondering if I've hugged Doug for the last time.
I am thankful for the talented medical care that our much maligned system manages to provide. In spite of all of the complaining of the "broken system", we've managed to be cared for by an army of first rate "ists".
I am thankful for the way that I am now more in tune with the emotional hurts and needs of others. The only way you can empathize with others is to have experienced pain and sorrow yourself. I am no longer constrained to offer only sympathy. I feel I have been able to move from acquaintance to friend with a few people because of this. And I am richer for it.
I am thankful for the way that I am forced to admit on a daily basis that I don't have the strength to make it on my own. I'm not weaker than I was before, I'm just more honest with myself.
I am thankful for the brief glimpses into what is really important in life. Relationships and strength of character. All other things on earth are time limited, but my relationships with God and people, and the character I build while I am still breathing will last forever.
I am thankful for the kick in the pants that writing stuff down has been for me. I've never been a journaller, or a diary person. But I can recognize what a great tool it is for organizing your thoughts and emotions. And if my ramblings can lead even one person towards a deeper understanding of their own world, or supply a ray of hope in a dark world, what is not to be thankful for?
I cannot hear the phrase "well, at least you've got your health" anymore without a small lump in my throat. But I still can be thankful for things. Thankfulness doesn't have to be expressed with only a smile on your face. It is not an emotion - it is a mindset. Tears of pain and hurt can co-exist with thankfulness. And at my house, they do.
"In everything give thanks..." I think I understand the author a little bit better now. We are not instructed to be thankful for everything that happens to us - we are exhorted to be thankful in the midst of it. Bring on the turkey.
On the one hand, there is a season for everything. A time to weep, and a time to laugh - and given today's date (Thanksgiving), a time to give thanks. So I've dedicated today's writing session to a challenge to myself. I'm going to write today about Thanksgiving. I'm going to attempt to capture ways that I am thankful for Doug's Muscular Dystrophy. Fasten your seat belts, I don't know where this will end up.
I am thankful for the people I have met on this journey. When you meet people who are going through, or have been through something like this, the emotional bonds you create with them are incredibly deep. A shared experience like this produces a connection that would otherwise take years and years to build.
I am thankful for my friends and family. They may not know it, but I draw deeply on their emotional and physical support. They meet needs both large and small without knowing it, and often without proper recognition or thanks.
I am thankful for the way I have experienced the generousity of strangers. Through Doug's needs, I have a renewed hope in the "spirit of mankind". "Religious" or not, God has built people with a inner desire to be charitable to each other. We don't see this everyday, as most of us have built walls up to hide behind. Give people an excuse though, and watch love and kindness flow out of the most unlikely people. Take a step back, and watch God coordinate the charity of many unrelated threads into a completed tapestry. I am thankful for being able to watch the the Master Weaver at work here. (Heck, did you see how many bikers showed up for the Vancouver Toy Run today in the cold rain?)
I am thankful for the slow progression of DMD. I get to wake up each day to a son who looks and acts very much like the day and week before. I am thankful that I don't yet have to lie awake at night wondering if I've hugged Doug for the last time.
I am thankful for the talented medical care that our much maligned system manages to provide. In spite of all of the complaining of the "broken system", we've managed to be cared for by an army of first rate "ists".
I am thankful for the way that I am now more in tune with the emotional hurts and needs of others. The only way you can empathize with others is to have experienced pain and sorrow yourself. I am no longer constrained to offer only sympathy. I feel I have been able to move from acquaintance to friend with a few people because of this. And I am richer for it.
I am thankful for the way that I am forced to admit on a daily basis that I don't have the strength to make it on my own. I'm not weaker than I was before, I'm just more honest with myself.
I am thankful for the brief glimpses into what is really important in life. Relationships and strength of character. All other things on earth are time limited, but my relationships with God and people, and the character I build while I am still breathing will last forever.
I am thankful for the kick in the pants that writing stuff down has been for me. I've never been a journaller, or a diary person. But I can recognize what a great tool it is for organizing your thoughts and emotions. And if my ramblings can lead even one person towards a deeper understanding of their own world, or supply a ray of hope in a dark world, what is not to be thankful for?
I cannot hear the phrase "well, at least you've got your health" anymore without a small lump in my throat. But I still can be thankful for things. Thankfulness doesn't have to be expressed with only a smile on your face. It is not an emotion - it is a mindset. Tears of pain and hurt can co-exist with thankfulness. And at my house, they do.
"In everything give thanks..." I think I understand the author a little bit better now. We are not instructed to be thankful for everything that happens to us - we are exhorted to be thankful in the midst of it. Bring on the turkey.
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