The Zoomer Chronicles: Day 1

Patty on Zoomer, April 14, 2011

     It has been two weeks today--April 14, 2011--since I received my Zoomer and started to learn how to drive a wheelchair.  I feel impatient that I am not learning more quickly how to drive it.  Yet, what is the rush?
     I have never driven before.  OK, there was that white car with the red, white, and black racing stripes.  I loved that car.  Do you think I could still fit in it?  OK, stop laughing:) Maybe not.

Patty in her race car, 1960s

     I rode a big tricycle with a basket in back.  But, that was many years ago.
     So, I guess I should be patient.  I don't want to hurt myself, Zoomer, or other people I meet in my travels.  So far, I have not had serious injuries.  Just the portion of my armrest broken off, when I went through an opening that was too tight.
      If I am to make the most of--embrace--this new way of living, I need to name my intimate partner.  She is Zoomer.  I will keep her from going too fast.  I have discovered great joy in doing so, thanks to my joystick.  But, Zoomer will get me the power to move forward in my life.  
     Zoomer is getting me back into circulation.  But, she is taking me out differently than I imagined.  It is marvelous to have stamina, to be exerting no stress on my right ankle, or my left hip.  As much as I cringe when I go slamming into a door, I must not forget how marvelous it is to have what has been lost to me, and to be relieved of other concerns.
     Zoomer and I have been intimate with countless automatic doors, corners of walls, and baseboards.  Today, she and I met up with a new intimate--a closed elevator door.  More specifically, she and I got jammed in the doorway of the elevator.  My prayers were answered.  The elevator door did not open, and allow anyone to run into me before I could free myself.
     There are characters in this play.  My next door neighbors have witnessed my practicing in the hallways.  One neighbor is completely mystified as to what I am doing.  She is not malicious, just mystified.  Most understand.  Some acquaintances celebrate the securing of the chair, my progress, and my confidence.  Acquaintances, and friends alike are extremely encouraging.  Have you ever stopped and thought about who is encouraging you on a given day?  I do not need to contend with the regular work world anymore, so it may be easier for me to recognize people who encourage me.  Yet, is it possible to identify who encourages you, at the same time that you are able to identify the people who are your obstacles in reaching your goals--your aspirations?
     To paraphrase a hero of mine, Walter Cronkite, "And that's the way it is." That was Day 1 of The Zoomer Chronicles.

Zoomer Chronicles: A Privilege

     Only two weeks have passed since my wheelchair was delivered, and I started to learn how to use it.  FDX-MCG is not an intuitive, or catchy name.  So, for now I will call my chair Zoomer.
     Mind you, I have NEVER driven any vehicle in my 51 years.  OK, OK, I have driven countless people crazy without even trying:)  That is second nature to me:)  But, this,  this whole driving business  is brand new to me.  Intellectually, I knew that there would be a learning curve, but, I couldn't imagine what that learning curve would be.
    Today I set out intent on going to the grocery store.  That is familiar territory.  Then, I thought I would board my Zoomer, and head down to the Y to go swimming.  Those are simple tasks that require no thought to do in your life, right?  Well...
     People ARE very willing to help.  I was very apprehensive that people would be standoffish and condescending.  I do try to warn people that I am just learning, so they do not endanger their lives while they are helping me.  I have not experienced any standoffishness, or condescension.
     This learning experience makes me wonder how long it takes to learn how to drive.  I have enormous respect for how well so many people I know drive.  I have not appreciated it fully until now.  As deep as my appreciation is, I will never forget riding with my uncle during the wintertime in Minnesota.  My uncle did not turn around a curve wide enough.  The result?  We took part of a snow bank with us.  No one was hurt.  My uncle was not at all ruffled by what he had done:)  But, most people I know, and have ridden with are excellent drivers.
     Driving is a privilege.  It is allowing me to get out to live a fuller life than I have lived recently.  How fast do we ZOOM to get to our destination?  Do we appreciate its privilege?  Do we see what we pass along our journey?  May we see the sights along the way.  May we mark those places along the way to return to, in order to live more fully--breathe more deeply.  May we take home with us--make resident in our beings--the people, sights, and experiences on our journey.

Pride's Distraction

    Who are your friends?
    I do not mean names.  No.  Are the individuals you associate with important to you because they have the same ideas as you do?  In order to be your friend, what is the threshold that they must meet in terms of agreement on political issues, religious beliefs, faith, values?
    Go to your inbox, your contacts list, your written or digital, and your Facebook "friends."  How did you meet each person?  What common beliefs, and/or associations did you share that drew you  together?  Were you colleagues?  Did you worship in the same community? Are you related by blood, or marriage?  Are you childhood friends?  Did you meet in some other way?
    I pride myself on being an open-minded person.  I avoid identifying anyone as having a simple faith, a simplistic view of the world.  I avoid identifying anyone on the basis of their political beliefs.  Or, so I thought.
    Someone told me that she has different friends for different purposes, or for different reasons.  Her friends were objects that she used.  Quite to the contrary.  My friend acknowledges the diverse gifts of each individual--each friend--who blesses her life.
   This week, I was reminded of the trap of the pride I claim.  I try to be in constant conversation with internal challenges that whisper for my attention.   Yet, clearly I have fallen short.
   Humility reintroduced herself to me this week.  She did not confront me.
   Humility simply tapped me on the shoulder in the form of surprise.  I thought I was open to different perspectives in other people, my surprise to the acceptance of my own explorations challenged the integrity of my thoughts.
   I am delighted by my surprise.  I pray that my surprise may humble me.  May humility dispel any distraction prideful expression of openness may cause.

Seventy Times Seven

     I hear Jesus speaking to Peter more often than I remember at earlier times in my life.  Peter asked Jesus how many times he had to forgive someone who had sinned against him.  Seven times?  Jesus says, "Seventy times seven."  Forgiveness worthy of her name needs to be repeated whenever her name is called to serve.
     Jesus is not admonishing me to forgive someone, who has sinned me.  Rarely do I think in those terms with regard to other people.  I listen to The Lord's Prayer to attune myself with how I am abiding by the call to forgive other individuals in my life.
     Jesus stands by me, as I whisper, "this isn't fair."  What? Quiet, solitary moments in the bathroom, and in bed, my ankle asserts herself.  "Don't be quite so proud of your accommodations to me."  I want to share my whisper, that she does not rule my spirit
 .  Cleansing, and restful moments may not be sacrificed.  Give me time.  Jesus forgive me, as you call me to forgive not a person, but, my intimate--my ankle.  It is not an it.  My ankle is a she.  My ankle is worthy of my love, my care, my respect, my care.  My ankle--she--is a partner in my life.  I may not neutralize her by reducing her to the state of it--the state of material goods in my possession.
     She has rendered a lifetime of service.
     I revel in the accommodation to her weakness....
    Several days later, I am not as hurt by her pain.  We will enjoy traveling the accommodating path together...swimming, discovering a program with a personal trainer to map out the most accommodating path--not a medicinal, but, a forgiving path.
    My ankle calls me now, yet, in years to come, my ankle's sisters and brothers will plead with me to stop calling them It, and treat them as my intimates.
    Marking--celebrating--51 years of life today, I am evermore aware of the eternal forgiveness that Jesus spoke of.  I am called not to be forgiving of my ankle seven days a week.  I am called to forgive each member of my body's family.
     Am I really that different from anyone else in Jesus call to forgive our intimates--our aging intimates--seventy times seven?  Just a thought.

Geography of Respect for Life

     I am perplexed by the geography of "respect for life."
     Affirmation seems to come too easily--what is one's positions on abortion, the death penalty, commitment of military forces to quell upheaval, and wars against humanity, as well as support for killing a despot, who orchestrated those wars?  Less immediate, although no less important are those who engage in the birther movement, and political rancor over so many issues--health care, and the federal budget, most notable to me.
     Cries for support of "respect for life" are usually singular proclamations, "I am pro-life," or "I am pro-choice."  Little more needs to be said, or so it seems.  I have never been faced with that question in my own life.  I have not known anyone closely, who has been faced with that situation.
     The death penalty.  I have known no one, who has confronted the death penalty.
     Most poignant to me seems to be the unabashed affirmation of killing despots--Osama Bin Laden, and Gadhafi come to mind.  There seemed to be great satisfaction, and accomplishment felt, when Saddam Hussein was killed.  I may be wrong, but in each of these cases, the satisfaction felt is an affirmation, "By the death of this individual, we have rooted out all evil from our lives.  We shall live in paradise from this day forward," or something to that effect.  This unabashed affirmation is the plateau of Respect for Life's Geography.
    Was there a birther movement prior to the presidency of Barack Obama?  If so, when?  Who was, or were the individual(s) targeted? If birthers were to prove their accusations, how would their priorities regarding the future of our society be changed--advanced?  I am of two minds.
   I have my own beliefs regarding the birther movement.  I shall share them shortly.  Yet, before I do so, I must be clear.  My questions are meant to imply no cynicism.  Are there more constructive means by which to address the doubts as to whether Barack Obama was born in the United States?  Is anyone, who is in the birther movement, proclaiming "respect for life" as one of their values?  Do they offer their thoughts as to how these two are reconciled within their value system?  With all due respect, I have not heard the juxtaposition of these beliefs expounded upon, or explored.
     The health care debate is one that I hope has ended.  I believe essential issues, and questions were at stake.  Yet, the tenor of the debate was not conducive to thoughtful, deliberative discourse.  The decibel level of the debate exceeded my tolerance level.  Guilty though I felt as someone who values my citizenship, my mental health was more important.  I needed to value my own mental health, if I expected anyone else do so. I needed to respect my own life, if I had any hopeful expectation that others might respect their own lives, and the lives of other human beings.
     I do not look forward to the Medicare debate.  Discourse regarding its future--how to strengthen it--is essential.  Yet, I fear that the decibel level will rival that of the health care debate.
     I shudder to use "respect for life," for fear that I am corrupting the phrase to bring integrity to my beliefs.
I pray that my affirmation, "I have a commitment to "respect for life," is understood with the full complexity with which it is lived.
     If profiled in traditional terms, I would be identified as a woman raised as a Universalist, who is now a Catholic.  I am a pro-choice woman, who opposes the death penalty in regard to any criminal offense.  I am a pacifist.  I take no satisfaction in, nor do I understand why it is thought that killing any despot will eliminate evil.  Yet, that profile of my beliefs does not reflect the texture---the complexity--of my commitment to "respect for life."
     I pray each of us who utters, "respect for life" does so with thoughtfulness--with reverence.  May we respect the convictions of others', whose convictions differ from our own.