Imagine

Happy Sunday! One of the things I enjoy sometimes doing at my church, during the Fellowship/social aspect after the service, is to take my coffee and walker and sit up against the wall, facing the room. I'm away from everybody and clearly on my own, but I'm simultaneously in the very center of the action, 'cause I can see everything. An interesting result of this isolation in a crowd (my "normal" since I know a lot people and a lot of people know me, but I'm most comfortable alone) is seeing who breaks the invisible boundaries I've erected and approaches me:) There are a few brave souls to who do, blessed like myself with just enough extroversion to make them friendly to everyone in any situation. And if I'm honest with myself, I know there are some lingering ghosts of low self-esteem who would inhibit my social interaction without these people. I would tell myself "nobody wants to talk to me; they've all got their own friends"--not "those people are my friend, why not say hello?" Today was no exception, as I had just gotten comfortable in my walker (I don't like the plastic and metal chairs they have on hand), when an old friend from the congregation approached. We chatted about this and that, and particularly the weather. It seems West Michigan has FINALLY turned a corner toward Spring, which is the best news ever, to me:) I told him there were a number of times this winter when the ice alone made climbing the hill to church too daunting a prospect. But that the dry streets and sunshine with 50 degree weather we're CURRENTLY enjoying is absolutely wonderful. The other day though, things had not quite turned around, and it was still a little chilly. I sat on the transit bus to a doctor's appointment and listened to somebody say "we didn't have much of a winter." I found myself momentarily incensed. How could she say that? Hadn't she noticed the ice and snow AT ALL? This winter has been exceptionally hard on my older friends from church across the board--either because they, like me, chose to "hermit" in their houses for days on end rather than risk the hazardous icy, snowy conditions. Or because they had no choice but to risk it, and ended up injuring themselves in a slip and fall:( But it wasn't limited to the elderly! A lot of my disabled friends have felt crippling depression as a result of this weather...I certainly have. So where did this woman get off declaring there had been a flimsy winter?! Boy was I relieved when the bus driver set her straight. "If you don't go out much," she said, "you probably didn't notice...but when you drive for a living, the roads were terrible." Not to mention white out conditions, whistling wind, and everything else unpleasant that can come from Nature! That's when it dawned on me exactly how challenged the first woman probably was. She rarely left her home, that was clear. But then there was the fact that she didn't even pick up on others' struggles through the weather-related treachery. I mean, I don't drive either, but I do notice traffic reports. I listened with concern countless times this winter when there were reports of pile-ups and "slow going", "hazardous conditions", warnings, and even sometimes those in power coming onto mass media sources FORBIDDING people to venture out. I remember those days vividly. And I remember the fear for the safety of my church family, as well as my friends scattered throughout the city and beyond. I felt terrible for a lot of my childhood friends, stuck enduring another of the East Coast's particularly arduous winters! It's like I've been told and often say; not all disabilities are visible. Sometimes it's not a mobility aide, but the gaps in some one's logic that lets you in on their struggle. The anger might still be there immediately; my knee-jerk reaction to an insensitive-sounding comment might always be fury. But this experience was a welcome reminder to step back, take a deep breath, and think before I judge. After all, I can't imagine how hard her life must be.