Listen. Pray. Speak.
Act. Pray. Listen.
Long after your name—your face--is eclipsed by wonder-filled
days,
Your words echo—reverberate—in the depths of my being.
The rhythm of your words inspires in me a constant drumbeat.
Listen. Pray. Speak.
Act. Pray. Listen.
What do I say?
When do I speak?
How do I voice my sadness to you?
Will you listen?
Will you hear me?
Listen. Pray. Speak.
Act. Pray. Listen.
Lend me your ear.
Give me a voice.
Give me a plan.
Grace me with faith.
Listen. Pray. Speak.
Act. Pray. Listen.
You will listen.
You will hear.
You will change.
Listen. Pray. Speak.
Act. Pray. Listen.
September 4, 2007
One day, a former coworker and I were working alone in the library. With my back turned to him, my coworker must have seen someone who used a wheelchair.
Without thinking anything of it, she said, "Oh, there goes another gimp."
Without thinking anything of it, she said, "Oh, there goes another gimp."
What?
I was stunned--absolutely stunned. I was rendered uncharacteristically speechless. Never had anyone called me a gimp--never had I called myself "gimp."
Writing has been the vehicle I have used to process my feelings--the deeper the hurt, the clearer the writing. This piece was my attempt to process what happened, and what my feelings were.
I do remember Janet. She was not malicious per se--she was genuinely naive, and totally clueless. Janet was a piece of work. She is retired now. I know nothing more of her life now.
Writing has been the vehicle I have used to process my feelings--the deeper the hurt, the clearer the writing. This piece was my attempt to process what happened, and what my feelings were.
I do remember Janet. She was not malicious per se--she was genuinely naive, and totally clueless. Janet was a piece of work. She is retired now. I know nothing more of her life now.
Ever since I was a little kid, I have believed that if I found the right words I could foster understanding. I don't know if Janet ever understood--truly understood--the impact of her words. The relationship that followed was based in nervous fear. Janet was put on notice that if she ever so misspoke again, there would be consequences.
It is ironic. At the time that I wrote Listen. Pray. Speak. Act. Pray. Listen, my energies were focused on the word "gimp" and my inclusion in the word's definition. I was walking with an ankle-foot-orthotic--a brace-- at the time, but, I was not in any way shape, or form, using a wheelchair. Nor was I about to do so.
Five years later, my circumstances are quite different. No, I do not call myself a "gimp." That has not changed. What has changed is that I use an electric wheelchair to live--to move long distances. I don't know how I might have responded. I guess the word "gimp" still would have been the main issue. Yet, I wonder how would Janet and I have interacted. I cannot mourn a lost friendship. Close friendship far exceeded any physical differences.
Although much has changed in five years, in all aspects of my life today, I continue to be committed to listen...pray....speak...act...pray...listen.
Although much has changed in five years, in all aspects of my life today, I continue to be committed to listen...pray....speak...act...pray...listen.
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