Growing up, I knew people with disabilities, but I didn’t really understand that world.
In our church, there were two young men with mental challenges. Doug lived across the street from the church and had the intellectual ability of about a six-year-old, but he was very strong. Doug liked the sexton, Al Brown, who treated him like a son and let him hang around and help.
Then there was Bill Stiver, a tall, awkward man who always wore a coat, shirt, and tie and who had the mental capacity of an eight-year-old. He was a savant who knew the license plate numbers of hundreds of people. Bill never called anyone by their name; he called everyone by their license plate number.
On January 20, 1965, Annie and I became the parents of a child conceived during the international rubella epidemic. Our Heidi was born with small spots all over her body. She weighed only five pounds and was diagnosed as deaf, blind, slightly cerebral-palsied, and epileptic—and she also had heart problems.
Never in our wildest dreams did we imagine becoming parents of a child with multiple, severe disabilities. Despite all her physical challenges, Heidi remained mentally sharp, so we provided her with the best education possible. She’s a college graduate, but during her third year, she walked into a moving car and was in a coma for two weeks, resulting in another disability—a second severe brain injury that affected her cognitive skills. Heidi worked at the Seattle office of The Lighthouse for the Blind and Deaf for many years; now she is retired.
Years ago, when I was talking about her disabilities, Heidi interrupted me and said, “Dad, I don’t have disabilities. I’m a person with different abilities.” That was a great way to look at it. Doug and Bill didn’t have disabilities either; they were people with different abilities.
At our church, we have something called “The Gospel Project,” where we are exploring different ways to worship. Each worship service has a unique focus, and in February, it was centered around people with different abilities. After a community meal in the church hall, the congregation moved to the main sanctuary for a theater-centered worship and sermon.
The first act featured performances by the Peppermint Ridge Home choir, composed of adults with cognitive skills ranging from ages three to eight. Five of the choir members were in wheelchairs, one was on a gurney on her stomach, and many faced mobility challenges, but they loved to perform and sing. They were people not defined by disabilities but by different abilities.
The next group, who also faced mental challenges, performed choreographed dances. They had been practicing for a long time under the training of a woman in the entertainment industry. They were awkward but talented!
The next performer was an attractive albino woman who was legally blind and married with two young children. She was a cabaret singer. She never saw herself as disabled but rather as someone with singing talent.
The singer was followed by a young Black woman with a brain disorder that prevented her from having memories. She read some of her beautiful poetry.
Then came Pastor Bobbie, a Black woman who had struggled with a negative self-image for years. After becoming a drug addict, she had gone through recovery; earned her high school diploma; graduated from community college, a four-year university, and seminary; and become ordained as a UCC pastor. This journey took twenty years. Bobbie is a shining example of a woman who was not disabled but who had different abilities.
Our daughter taught our family a great lesson grounded in living out agape and seeing fellow human beings as folks with different abilities.
Do you like this concept?
PeaceLoveJoyHopeKindness
Bil
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A very positive, helpful piece, Bil. Thank you.
Thanks. I had the privilege of taking all three girls ages 2,4,6 to Hanauma bay in my large, well-used 1959 Plymouth Belvedere. It had a large deck over the back seat just the right size for four-year/old Heidi. The deck had two rear speakers. Large and loud. Some of Heidi’s happiest times were riding in back not just hearing some of the music but feeling the vibes from the speakers. Couldn’t do it now in the time of seatbelts. But oh my happiest memories too, connecting with Heidi.
Thnks Bil,
This insight is essential to agape love. We didn’t get to the church for this beautfiful event. Your description helped to imagine being there.