Thorns

Life with Muscular Dystrophy is challenging. I’m hesitant to even mention my diagnosis because you might look it up and start thinking I’m due to die any day now. This really isn’t the case. I’m in good health and people in my condition are living longer and longer due to advances in medicine. My gradual loss of physical strength has led to a loss of many of the things I love, such as drawing or playing the piano. Fortunately, software like Creative Suite and Garageband allow me to regain some proficiency in those areas. And, it’s really not ideal to rely on others for dressing, eating, showering, etc. As a result, however, I end up having the most interesting conversations in the oddest of places. When was the last time you discussed the finer points of Augustinian philosophy with your brother while taking a shower?

The hardest aspect of my disabled life is navigating the social stigma associated with having such an obvious disability. It can be frustrating, but I don’t blame people or feel bitter about it. The thing is, it’s human nature to look for patterns. One pattern people often see when they look at me is weakness. My physical weakness is obvious, but I’m also an introvert so I’m not as loud, talkative or outgoing as your classic American extrovert. So I’m disabled and I’m an introvert, which leads people to assume I’m weak in other ways. I have experienced this in three distinct spheres: education, love and work. Since I talked all about love last week, I’ll focus on education and work here.

There are many stories I can share from my years in the public school system, but my favorite is the one about my high school math teacher. Prior to my first day of high school, I visited the school to meet my teachers. As a student with a disability, I found it helped to talk to teachers about my limitations prior to the start of each school year in order to break the ice. All of the teachers I met treated me just like a normal student, except one. We’ll call her Mrs. A. Mrs. A was an old-school math teacher in her late 60s with short gray hair, thick glasses and a number of artificial joints. If I remember correctly, she sort of clicked and clanked while walking the halls of our school. When I got to her classroom, she spoke to me loudly and slowly as if I had difficulty hearing or an intellectual disability. Once the school year began, she continued to treat me as if I was deaf or dumb. After I aced the first two quizzes, Mrs. A changed her tune. From that point on, I was her star student and she even asked me to help tutor some of my fellow students. What can I say? I’m really good at algebra and geometry! Calculus was another story… Mrs. A quickly became my favorite teacher and was the first person I asked to write a college recommendation letter. That story ended well. This next one is a different story. And, that pun was intended.

For about six months during grad school I managed online marketing for a local car dealership. In essence, my job was to post new car inventory to the dealership website and several other sites using a complicated software system. After extensive training from the colleague who did the job before me, I quickly mastered the system and had cars speeding through the interwebs in no time. Nearly two months into the job I broke my hip. Three weeks was all I needed to recover and then, with the assistance of some strong painkillers, I was back in business. Fast forward to three months later and things were going well. I was in a good rhythm with my job and nearing the end of graduate school. And then, out of nowhere, I got laid off. The official reason I heard is that the dealership had a lot of money tied up in renovation projects at the time and they couldn’t afford to keep me around. I heard later that it took three people to do my job after I left. My bosses were shocked by the amount of work I was able to get done every week. They assumed if I, a mild-mannered guy in a wheelchair, could do the job, it would be just as easy for them to save some money and do the job themselves. The situation was frustrating, but I’m not bitter about it. I’ve come to understand that sometimes it’s just human nature to judge a book by its cover (and the first couple pages). And, like they always say, bitterness is like eating poison and hoping it hurts someone else.

In 2 Corinthians, the apostle Paul describes his battle with a “thorn in the flesh”, which God uses to display His power. After Paul desperately begs God to take the thorn away three times, He responds, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9 ESV) The thorn in the flesh of my disability, and all the other thorns that come along with it, work in exactly the same way. Although I long for God to take this thorn away by miracle or medicine, He’s still using it to display His power and glory. He may never heal me of Muscular Dystrophy, but I am content in the fact that He uses my weakness to reveal His strength. In the words of Paul, “For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:10 ESV)