Editing Note: This post was originally published today on my Disablogger blog. I thought it could be posted here as well.
Having a disability puts issues of the heart up front. It makes those issues unavoidable. If you have an emotional control issue or even a controlling attitude that makes it easy to manipulate others, a disability is the stressor that forces you to deal with it or let the whole world see your problem while you deny its existence.
I say this because I yelled at the kids today. I mean, someone small got in my way and I used a forceful voice to call their attention to it. That’s not the person I want to be, yet that was how I acted today. I’m not proud of it, either.
Likewise, when we are prone to self-pity or self-loathing, we tend to let it get the better of us because of—not in spite of—our disability. Ironically, we can let a disability enable us to indulge in selfish behavior. We focus on ourselves, or we let conversations center around how we are getting along for more than just a little while, or we complain more than we should, all because our disability supposedly grants us license. We all have been dealt some bad cards, some we have from birth to death or some we have for a season, be it short or long. Licensed selfish behavior is still selfish, and as any kindergartener can tell you, being selfish pushes away friends and happiness.
I have challenged myself to focus on others more, doing things for them instead of doing things for me. Doing so has helped me out of the selfish mode that is so easily slipped into. What’s more, I have found that I’ve reclaimed that piece of my humanity from my disability, becoming a real person in my own self-image again. It’s funny how not focusing on something you don’t have tends to enrich your life so much more.
A long walk back from fishing at a reservoir in 1998 taught me something new: mountain lions don't roar, they scream. We were walking toward the dam when a unhuman, warbled scream made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. "Uh, what was that, Dad?" He told me to just keep walking. A few minutes later, the scream sounded again from further away.
"That was a mountain lion," he told me.
Earlier this spring, I had the chance to hear it again at a big cat sanctuary and it still brought a jolt of adrenaline, even with a cage and enough distance to keep me safe. It was the primal reaction to a threat that 34 years of relative safety couldn't quite smother. It makes me wonder at how this woman has not only survived but thrived after her encounter. It takes a lot of prayer and not just a little courage. I know that God is using her in a powerful way.
Like my pastor once told me, "Good is often the enemy of the best." I can do a lot of good in a day, yet due to my disability, God isn't letting me do a whole lot of good right now, so I'm focusing on the best: his will for me each day. If that seems simple, it's not. You see something that could use some work or you find that someone wrote something that inspires you to write something else. I am constantly challenged to do what's in excess of my capacity. It's so hard to rest when I see work to be done! I have to do only what God wants me to do, and somehow, God makes life work out. My family and I have lacked nothing. That may change tomorrow, but today... I rest in His grace to take me to the next moment.
Last night, CBS aired the first part of Armen Keteyian's report on Social Security Disability and the veritable hell people go through to get disability benefits. My name is not Scott Watson; it's Steve Walden, but this has been my world for the past two years.
How do I feel about all this? I feel angry and frustrated that a government I paid involuntarily for years while I was employed, working despite continuing pain and exhaustion, that government has denied me the benefits I paid for. Like Jerry Rice in the report said, "I'm not asking for welfare. I'm asking them to give me what they promised."
I don't mean to sound bitter. I know that the last thing we should do is look to the government to save us. In a very real way, I could be accused of doing that. Instead, I hope that I am looking to God to provide for us. We prayed about filing for disability and felt God leading us to do that. Now, 18 months later, I can say that God has continually provided for us. We are nearing the end of any resources we have to our name, but God is continually reassuring us of His promises to us. We are waiting on God to act, not the government. God may act through the government, but we are letting Him have total control and do what He wants with our lives, our home, and our future.
I still plan to watch the other half of the report, although I know what they're likely going to say. The reason behind the high rate of disability claim rejections is not that the applicants didn't know what they were doing or that they weren't really disabled. No, the reason behind these claim rejections is that Social Security does not have the ability to pay out all the claims. The baby boomers are retiring now and Roe v. Wade has eroded the population that can support the burden of it's progenitors sucessfully. Much like the insurance companies in the Gulf Coast after Katrina, they are going to lose their shirts and no bureaucrat wants to be the one who is accused of killing the company, or in this case, the Social Security Administration. They find choking on paperwork and endless court delays preferable to paying the claims.
There is a huge backlog of cases. There is endless bureaucracy and inefficiencies. There is a disturbing amount of suicide and other signs of despair among the applicants desperate to get in. We need help and we need it now.
Introspection is a good thing. I have intentionally avoided writing personal stuff lately because stress from the holidays always distorts things and Christmas is usually a time for me to remember the past and enjoy the present. Particularly, Christmas night after the family has left and our kids are in bed is a time where I just take a deep breath and exhale. It’s a soft landing after the flight through the days leading up to Christmas.
I also have been struggling to get our family’s Christmas letter together. Yes, this year it is truly late. It’s been difficult to write this year and I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I’m hoping that a few things we’re waiting on will come through in time for me to put it in the letter. Maybe it’s because I still struggle with the path God has chosen for me. I didn’t choose to be disabled, yet God has seen fit to put me here. I’m learning, slowly, how God can use me in a very intimate way with my family. They need me more than a career ever could. I’m learning that many of the good “dad-ly” things that I want to emulate do not truly pivot on providing for my family. Earning an income does not help me know my son’s heart, nor does it offer me greater insight on my daughters’ thoughts. Nor has my disability affected my heart and who I am to my children. I am still the same father inside that I was before I became unable to work full time. I still love them just as deeply, if not more. I am who I am in Christ, not who the government or society or church says I am.
My name is Steve Walden and I have a unique and wonderful family that loves me for who I am. Therefore, I am the richest man in the world.
Like my Creator, I need to be needed. I guess that demands an explanation. It's based in part on the Westminister Catechism. God created us because he wanted (maybe needed) someone to choose to love Him and glorify Him. God desires us to love Him and enjoy Him forever, to need Him and express that need by praying to Him.
Similarly, I have to have someone need me. I cannot be a self-contained, self-satisfying island. I've had recent reminders of this. Because I'm not able to sit for long periods at the computer anymore, I've had to let my wife come in and help put things together for our clients. It's frustrating! I'm not able to be as useful. While all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, all play and no work makes Steve purposeless and empty. I need to come away from each day with something -- anything! -- that says I was critical to something good happening that day. It's not that I feel worthless, but I need the gratification of a job well done.
Today, Karen had a crick in her neck from sleeping wrong. Now, I do not have any sort of license or degree for massage, but baby, I really enjoyed working on her neck and helping her feel better. I have strong hands and a talent for finding tension and getting it to release. I'd get the training and licensing if I thought I could do it part-time or full-time with any consistency. Unfortunately, I can't predict the times or the duration for the periods I am unable to work. If I could, I would be able to make a job of doing it. Maybe in the future, but today, it's just not possible.
It's an odd thing, really, but I find that the only time that I have the energy and a cooperative body, I need to do work that God has lined up for me to do. I never have the energy for all of my self-initiated projects, efforts and plans. It's almost as if I am being micromanaged by God. "Yes, you may do this. No, you may not do that." On the other hand, micromanagement is such a negative term for what I've found to be a truly meaningful process.
When I was fresh out of high school, I started attending a small congregation with Karen, who was then my girlfriend. The church was pastored by Fred Wright, a very good teacher. One of his most memorable sermons had to do with the passage in Matthew 11 where Jesus said,
Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.
Pastor Wright had brought a yoke, which most people have never seen in person before. A yoke is a long, heavy beam designed to lay across the necks of two oxen or other beasts of burden. Two U-shaped brackets are put under the necks and locked into place. Both animals are forced to walk at the pace of the other. Otherwise the yoke twists their necks, causing significant pain for both. An ill-fitting yoke would cause blisters and make the animal useless. So when Jesus said for us to take His yoke, he meant for us to be fastened to him, side by side, moving together. He goes further to correct what most farmers would have thought about yokes by saying that his is easy and light. It was no small deal for oxen to take a load across the neck and pull against it. Most religions I have seen traffic in heavy burdens, all except biblical Christianity.
On one hand, I can look at my situation and say "I'm screwed!" I could say it the old way, "Woe is me!" I've been on that road, and it doesn't lead anywhere I want to go. On the other hand, I could look over at Jesus and do what He's doing. He gets the glory, and I learn how to walk with God in my heart. That’s my hope, my one true way and the only chance for my survival. He came that I could have life, and have it to the hilt. I find it by walking with Him, not wandering project to project. When I die, I don’t want people to say, “Boy, that Steve sure worked hard and got a lot of stuff done!” I want them to say, “He loved his God, his bride and his family, and he loved them well.”
The weather's getting colder and that seems to be affecting my health, which isn't uncommon given that my arthritis makes me weather sensitive. I'm 34, by the way, the age when I should be enjoying my activity and challenging myself. Instead, my best friend is Ben Gay and two words that make me smile is the phrase "sleeping deeply." Sitting at the computer is a challenge, not a restful activity like it should be. Am I angry about it? Not furious, but I get frustrated enough. I am thwarted by my own body. I should not be down for 3 days after just going outside to toss the ball with my son. Yet, this is my world.
Someone who is very dear to me got promoted (died) the day before yesterday. It's very hard to see her go, even though it was definitely her time. I know that she is young again, youthful. Her knees don't ache, her hands are new and she sees wonders more beautiful and amazing than what I've ever seen, even in Colorado. I really envy her in a way, although I don't expect to die for many, many years yet, and God is going to have to personally drag me from my family. Still, heaven can't be all that bad and I'm looking forward to living free of this pain and lack of ability. Really looking forward. I have a sincere understanding of Romans 8:22-23:
We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.
Still, a part of me really likes autumn. Summer, I almost hate to say it, it gets old. I don't get tired of green, but it just loses it's specialness. I suppose I'd get tired of white if I lived further north, too. I love the football season, hot coffee, curling up under a blanket (when I'm not under the weather-ha!) and a good book. Kim Hill's lyrics from Black Shirts come to mind.
I love fall
And living by tall trees
And I love having a fire
Just before the first hard freeze
And I thank You for making all of this
And holding me in Your hands
I think I'm finally growing up
I'm starting to understand
What am I beginning to understand? I'm understanding what God said to Paul, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in [your] weakness." God isn't interested in how good we can be out of our own strengths. When my strength fades like the green from the leaves, His color comes through, revealing his glory. Is it the way I've chosen? No, but it's the best way He can be glorified in my life and I will accept that. He's holding me in His hands. Why would I choose anything else?
I have been dealing with the worst case of writer's block in recent memory. Usually, what helps me bust past it is to write whatever is on my mind. Unfortunately, writing-but-not-publishing isn't doing the trick. If you're really wanting to know what's been on my mind, keep reading.
I don't recognize myself anymore. I don't know if it's the medications for my DDD and FMS, but I'm really starting to wonder how much of the stuff you can take before it really starts to mess with not just with your thoughts but your identity. Then again, I usually go this way when I'm under stress. Yeah, and I'm stressed right now.
This month marks the second anniversary of me being laid off from my job. I guess you could say that it's been a rough couple of years, but amazingly, we're mostly okay. No one has been really sick, at least apart from me and my chronic condition. We still have a roof over our heads, a car that's insured and food in the pantry. It hasn't been easy, but I've learned so very much in a short time. By the way, those reports about government bureaucracy being incredibly inept, even in the computer age...they're true. My wife is incredibly organized--she would disagree--and her determination to document everything is paying off, not for the first time, and we're able to tell the government's left hand what the right hand has been doing. More amazing is that we need to tell the left hand what the left hand did five minutes ago. Oh, the stories I could tell!
My thoughts dwell a lot on my wife lately. She carries a lot. First of all, she's a mom of three homeschooling children. Second, she's a wife, nurse and cook to me. She also helps me with our ministry, our two groups we help lead and manages all the accounts. Perhaps the most frustrating is that I find myself increasingly required to depend on her. She mowed the lawn this week when we couldn't find someone to help out. I hated that. God, how I hated that. Yet I'm powerless to get out there and do it myself because of my condition. I think that's a lot of where my frustration lies. I can't care for the house like I used to. I was the mower, trimmer, painter, maintainer and gardener. I have had to surrender these things and it is excruciating. No, I mean it. That's the right word. Lay me down on a cross, folks. It would be as painful as what this whole thing has done to me. I'm not going to douse myself in self-pity here, but I have to be honest too. I hate the fact that I can't do the things that I was needed to do. I used to be needed and respected for what I did and now I miss it. Perhaps that's the most painful part, at least psychologically, of a disability.
You hear of stories like firemen being closet arsonists (ref: Backdraft). It's an odd paradox, the need to be needed. I'm not going around poking holes in the roof or flicking the lights hoping one will burn out, but seeing needs and not being able to meet them is torturous. Now I in turn need someone else to do what I can't. It begs the question, "What's left for me to do?"
I can be a great father to my children. I can't run a pass play or even walk to the park without some help, but I can be there for them. Maybe that's all they really need. God, I hope so. It's so troubling to know that you can't give your kids what you would like.
I can be a great husband. Yet, I'm not as good as I could possibly be. You'd be surprised how little you can see of someone and yet still be in the same house. I want to get better at this. I want to be near her more, yet we don't have the structure to facilitate that and when she's schooling, I feel quite like the fifth-wheel. I can get involved, and I have been, but I have trouble teaching in tandem. Besides, I know that she does better when I don't chase bunny trails...every other sentence.
I can be a great Steve Walden. What's that look like? I'm not sure. It has something to do with my Maker and His instructions for life. ... Stay tuned.
I think one of most serious mistakes people can make is to assume that there is only one way to act. For example, they would say that in order to be peaceful, you should shun conflict, or to be loving you must never respond with anger. It's a viewpoint that assigns moral values to specific emotions. Believe me, there are people out there that think in these terms. They are the ones who believe that all wars are unjust, or that boys should shun their aggressive tendencies or that a family that is fighting has something dreadfully wrong with it.
It's a system that shuns the wisdom of Ecclesiastes,
TO EVERYTHING there is a season, and a time for every matter or purpose under heaven:
A time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted,
A time to kill and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up,
A time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance,
A time to cast away stones and a time to gather stones together, a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing,
A time to get and a time to lose, a time to keep and a time to cast away,
A time to rend and a time to sew, a time to keep silence and a time to speak,
A time to love and a time to hate, a time for war and a time for peace.
We can no more prevent these things from passing through our lives than we can stop time itself. I have seen all of these things in my 30-plus years. It's not an epitaph, just a reckoning. I had some time last night with a family whose eldest daughter has irrevocably changed her life and theirs with her poor choices. They "did everything right," yet they see and feel this heartache every morning. It's a sober reminder to me that, despite all you do, things can still go wrong and that having a child puts your heart at risk.
For the past two years, I have not been able to work full time. It has certainly been "a time to lose." Yet these last two years have been incredibly rich for me. How can I explain or predict this but to realize that God still has His hand on my life and, if anything, His grip on me is increasing. I'm unable to mow my lawn, yet my need has forced closer relations with others to mow for me. I cannot walk to the park, but my time in the pool to strengthen me has forged a deeper relationship with my son than I could get from time on any playground. Am I okay with this? Sha-way! I'd trade a credit rating for my kids' love and benefit anyday.
So, God, I'm learning. Thank you for letting me experience this. Lead on.
