Emerging abilities

During the first two decades of my life, I was oblivious to the beauty in the lives of people with disabilities. I had very little exposure to them and even less understanding. Today, I can say they’ve significantly enriched my life.

Congregations are also beginning to receive the blessing of people with disabilities. Most church buildings are now wheelchair accessible. Some churches have made their stages and podiums accessible. New sound systems present options that haven’t always been available for people who are hard of hearing. Music lyrics are bigger and brighter with the assistance of projection technology. Advances in transportation create greater mobility for people, helping them get to church and get around in the building.

These people, like blossoms in spring, are just beginning to bloom, starting to show their colours, ready to burst open and amaze us. What will those blessings look like? What’s needed to nurture and bring out the best in each one?

Focus on one. Each relationship brings its own life and meaning. A relationship with the masses is just not the same.

Once, I reluctantly attended a large family gathering. I wasn’t looking forward to spending three days with hundreds of relatives I didn’t know. Friday evening started as I had feared. So many strangers, and each one a relative in some way. It was almost too much to handle.

Then, at one point, I sat with an elderly gentleman and listened to his story. A stranger, yes, but he had a story to tell and wisdom to impart. He had a gift to give. All of a sudden, our time was too short.

From a distance, it might appear that I have nothing in common with a person who has a disability. Taken as a group, as a category of people, they’re a room full of strange relatives. Taken one at a time, they each have a gift and a story to tell. We simply have to listen.

Don’t miss anyone. How do we focus on one, yet not miss anyone? Each person with a disability is a valuable contribution to our church community and can enrich our fellowship. Each one deserves to be appreciated. Each one is a child of God, a child who God wants to be loved and welcomed by the family of God.

Appreciating the beauty of a person with a disability is an assignment for us all. We can give ourselves the luxury of focusing on one person, assured we won’t miss anyone, because while we’re admiring one flowering shrub bursting into brilliance, other people are seeing the blessings of another.

Look, listen, and learn. We all speak more than one language. One might be English, French, or German. But we also speak various other languages. Body language says a lot. From across the football stadium or hockey rink, I can easily tell if you’re pleased or displeased with the goal just scored. Eyes speak volumes. A raised eyebrow can change the course of a conversation, an evening, or a relationship.

As we spend time with individuals, we learn to understand their various languages. Occasionally, disabilities prevent spoken words, but the inability to speak doesn’t mean a person has nothing to say or no way to say it.

I had the privilege of spending time with a young friend who had limited ability to speak. I frequently failed to fully understand him, but he invariably added to my life. When we talked about God, about whom he might be praying for, about friends we knew, his presence told me he was way ahead of me. When we talked about family, motorcycles, or other interests in life, he told me which subjects carried no interest and which ones captivated him, not through words but by body language.

It’s not easy to learn a new language. The irony is that too often we expect a person who lives with the challenge of a disability to learn our language, rather than expecting those of us who are more able to learn their language.

Expect to find. Find the flower, even though it may be hidden behind a disability. It’s there, though not always easy to see or recognize. If we expect to find nothing, we usually will. If we believe something is there, we’ll be diligent to search until we find it.

We recently celebrated the life of a wonderful person. By the time I met her, she’d had a stroke that limited her abilities. I wasn’t always capable of understanding everything she said. In the last few years, she had other setbacks and couldn’t get around very well.

But each time I spent a few minutes with her, she encouraged me. She was always interested in me; she valued me and made me feel worthwhile. I knew her as a person who loved God, who extended God’s love to those around her. If I hadn’t taken time to look, listen, and learn, I would have missed the enrichment she brought to my life.

Whether a person develops a disability later in life or lives their entire life with limited abilities, they have within them a blessing that God longs to give his community. It’s there for us to find.

It takes time. We live in an age of instant gratification – high speed internet, cell phones, and takeout food. We participate in one event and hurry off to another. While we’re having one conversation, we ensure we won’t miss the next by using “call waiting.” Multi-tasking is the order of the day.

But relationships take time. A relationship with someone whose language we’ve yet to learn or fully grasp takes more time. The rewards are enormous, but it requires commitment.

I enjoy watching the annual Grey Cup game. Several years ago, I invited myself over to a friend’s place to watch the game. It’s now become a bit of an unspoken tradition. I can always count on him to know about the players and who won last year’s game. When it comes to football, he has no disability.

I don’t often slow down long enough to spend a few hours with my friend who has some disabilities. I don’t always take time to have a coffee break with him. But if I can take advantage of doing something we both like, I can enrich my game watching experience by spending it with a friend who knows the sport better than I do.

I write this on the birthday of another dear friend who passed away a few years ago. I miss his smiles. I miss the conversations we had, as limited as I was in learning his language. He taught me a lot. He found gifts in me and admired their blossoms.

Our challenge is to see and encourage the gifts emerging in each person in spite of physical, emotional, or mental limitations. Too often, we end up walking right past them. Then, before we know it, the season is gone and the beauty is lost. Let’s make sure we take time to enjoy these blessings from God before the season passes.

Eugene Klassen is chief financial officer at MCC Supportive Care Services, Abbotsford, B.C., where he’s worked for 23 years. Eugene and his wife Marilyn are members of Highland Community Church.