Disabilities.
It’s a word that means different things to different people. Some disabilities are seen, and some are unseen. Some are mental and some are physical. Even terrible scars can be a disability.
I first noticed disabilities when I read a romance many years ago and the male character had something wrong with his hand. I don’t really remember the female character, the setting or even the story line, but I vividly remember the male character. The author wrote the character in such a way that left an indelible impression. I read that book at least three times. I never read a romance twice back then because I remembered every little detail of every story. Today, not so much.
That long-ago, well-written character wasn’t the reason I sometimes have characters with disabilities in my books.
My husband was and still is my inspiration for writing these types of characters.
We met in a chat room in the late nineties and talked online for months before we spoke on the phone. His disability came as a surprise when I first met him. In all that time, he’d never mentioned it.
I thought perhaps he’d had a stroke at some point because he couldn’t use his left hand all that well. The characteristics were there, and it looked like he might have had something wrong with his left foot as well.
But here’s the thing… His heart and brain were (and still are) so much bigger than his disability. It was his heart I fell in love with. I didn’t see what he had as a disability, but as a condition he’d learned to live with, just like I have an issue with my neck. People don’t comment on it, but I’m conscious of it and my husband said he noticed it, but it hadn’t bothered him, so why should it bother me.
To this day (and we’ve been married going on twenty-one years), he will not capitalize on his disability. In fact, he does things himself even if it takes extra time and all his concentration. (We all probably take for granted the everyday things we do when we have two capable hands.) He’s an IT professional and types with one hand. He even served in the military. His disability didn’t stop him from living his life to the fullest, but it defined his out-of-the-box thinking in any life situation including his job.
My husband was a blue baby. From his baby pictures, you could see the telltale sign that his left hand had problems. At age seven, he was told he had a brain aneurysm and that it could lead to death. When he specifically asked his doctor how long he had, the doctor said he could die at age eight or he could die at eighty. His response was “I choose eighty.”
That conversation led him to do terrifying and crazy stunts that most rational people wouldn’t do. Even he says he’s surprised he lived through them.
About ten yers ago, medical advances showed that what the doctors at that time thought was an aneurysm was actually brain damage from birth.
He now wears a brace on his left leg (much like the ones on the left) and his hand is virtually useless, but he perseveres and will not use a wheelchair. He is determined and will fight for the right to be self-sufficient.
When we were first married, I overcompensated and tried to help him all the time. He’d get angry with me. I still offer to help, but not as often as back then. When he wants help, he asks for it, but it’s rare.
When we go to his favorite fast-food place, he tells me to get a table and he’ll bring the food. I cringe when I look around because I know there are folks who are probably thinking, why isn’t she helping him? What they don’t realize is that my husband wants to do things for himself and be a useful member of society. He doesn’t want to be in a wheelchair, nor does he want to be pitied. Most people with disabilities feel the same way he does.
He’s my greatest cheerleader and while none of my characters have his specific disability, they have other disabilities like intense fear, terrible facial scars, PTSD, and hearing loss.
I will continue to write romances with a variety of characteristics and hope people will be blessed by the stories I tell.
It was a stressful, agonizing year. In March, an ambulance took my mother to the hospital and then later to a rehab facility. Sadly, she could no longer stay in the home she’d been in for seventeen years, so rehab transferred her to a long-term care facility. And we knew it was the final stop.
Memories flooded my soul. What I remember most were the Thanksgiving dinners. It was her holiday to shine and one we all loved. Mom started collecting Franciscan Apple dinnerware almost sixty years ago. Until the manufacturer brought out new pieces back in the late 90s, she owned every piece ever made. The collection is astounding and one I will not part with, even though those fabulous dinners are a thing of the past because family members are scattered all over the east coast. I will take the dining room set because it is something my mother cherished along with those dishes.
We haven’t seen a Thanksgiving like that for twenty years. And it’s OK because I have the memories. What is sad is that my grandchildren will never know the fun times we had around the dinner table playing trivial pursuit or cards. Those days are long gone because electronics and Netflix have taken their place.
I accomplished one writing goal, and that was to publish four books in 2021. Although one of them was a compilation or boxed set of the first three books in the Women of Worthy series, it still took time and effort to get it published. And I’m taking it as my fourth book. Since I managed to complete that goal, I’m making the same goal for 2022.
Another item scratched off the to do list for 2021 was baking. I love to bake goodies for my family, but this year, I decided to order pastries from a fabulous Italian pastry shop near my hometown. I realized it was less expensive in terms of time and money than for me to buy the ingredients and make them myself. The love factor may not be in the purchased baked goods, but the pressure it eliminated was well worth it. I also recognized no one really cared if they were purchased or homemade. What was important was the people surrounding us during the holidays.
Jesus Would be Born of a Virgin in Bethlehem
Jesus Would be Filled with Power, Peace, and the Spirit from Birth
A Star Would Point the Way Towards Jesus, the Christ
Jesus Would be Worshipped by Shepherds
Kings would Present Gifts to Jesus
Sunday. A time of worship and church. And we were late. We were both ready at our usual departure time, but my husband was called on a case for his company. I had resigned myself to watch the service from my living room chair even though I wanted to be there in person.
But the reason we had to be there was because we were asked to be the prayer team after the service. The enemy would like nothing more than to keep ministry workers at home and miss God’s blessings. We would have missed a wonderful time of worship and the blessing of ministering to others.
That dear brother has bone cancer. He told us how he’d been hospitalized frequently in the past month. (We knew this because of the updates during Wednesday evening prayer time).
“Because I have hundreds and hundreds of people praying for me,” he said. He told us he had people praying from as far away as Oregon and California.
When we lived in Germany, we took a road trip to Paris. It was Memorial Day weekend. What surprised us was how disconnected we felt from the “holiday” because the Europeans do not celebrate the day. And why would they? It’s an American holiday. We were given the last Monday in May off because my husband worked for an American company in Germany. Since the company did work for the military, they observed the holiday as well.
took some photos. I noticed a man with a VFW hat locking his car door to the left of me. I walked over to him and thanked him for his service (something I always do whenever I see a person in uniform.) Because I don’t speak French, I asked him if he knew why the Arc was closing. He said there was a Memorial Day procession at noon and that we should stay for it. My watch said it was barely 11:30.
My husband, Ted, sat on a ledge and I told him why the Arc would be closed. He wanted to stay for the event. I joined him for a few minutes to cool off because the temperature soared that day.
The French Police came and told us we had to move behind a set of metal barricades. My husband and I turned and moved quickly to get a ring-side spot that allowed the best view. The Star Spangled Banner faintly played and I wondered who played it. French soldiers marched to the front of the tomb and there was a French military band who came around the side and stood opposite the French soldiers. They had been playing our national anthem!
I hesitated because I didn’t want to offend him, but I wanted his opinion on WWII. I think he understood what I meant. He said that it was sad that it happened. He said he didn’t know what he would have done if he had lived in that era and that he was glad he was living now and not then. His response disappointed me, but I wasn’t surprised by it. Five minutes before the event, he and his girlfriend left. That surprised me.
As the band played the Star-Spangled Banner, my husband saluted, and I began to sing loud and proud. I heard a woman’s voice behind me singing loudly as well, and then other voices joined in. There were more Americans in the crowd than I expected.
My mother, who turns 92 in June (exactly one week after my birthday), has been slowly deteriorating.
But mentally? She has her good days and her bad days. Some days I’d call, and she didn’t recognize my voice. Other days, she was jovial. And that was cause for celebration.
’ve come to terms with my mother’s frailty and the fact that it may not be long before she’s not with us, but rejoice because we still have her… even if it’s just for a little while longer.
This week marks the holiest week of the Christian calendar. Passion week begins with Palm Sunday and ends with Resurrection Sunday.
And then in 2004, Mel Gibson produced The Passion of the Christ. I remember what a controversy it was. How Hollywood disdained and mocked Mel Gibson and the film. But God will not be mocked, and the film was an incredible success grossing over 612 million worldwide. It became the seventh-highest domestic grossing film and the highest-grossing Christian film of all time.
We hadn’t expected it would be as brutal as it had been and yet, thinking about the abject cruelty of the Roman Empire, the film was probably not nearly as violent as the reality of the actual crucifixion. When the film ended, there was not only pin-dropping silence in the darkened room, but a stillness, a reverence, that I had never seen in a theater before, or since. As those around us got up and soundlessly left the theater, we had the same sorrow etched on our faces that the previous group had had. When I asked my friends and family members, some in our state and many who lived across the country, of what had occurred when they went to see the film, they recounted the same experience. The unnerving silence, the sorrow, and the stillness.
Jesus came to earth as a humble man, died a sinner’s death even though He was without sin and arose from the dead. That is the gospel. And that is what we, as Christians, believe.
For almost four hundred years Americans have celebrated Thanksgiving. This year will go down in history as different from all other Thanksgivings in the past century. It is still the fourth Thursday of November as Franklin Delano Roosevelt declared it to be in 1941. We’ll still have Turkey with all the trimmings, pumpkin pie, and the Macy’s Day Parade. But it will be different. Different in a way few of us have seen in our lifetimes.
In 1620, the Pilgrims proclaimed the Mayflower Compact, which would become the basis for America’s Declaration of Independence. This was a scant year before the first ever Thanksgiving. And if you were in any doubt as to this country’s roots, check out what the Mayflower Compact says. I’ve been out of school for many, many years and didn’t remember it or what it said. But after listening to a Thanksgiving message last night from one of my favorite Bible teachers, Jack Hibbs, I looked it up, and our nation’s colorful history enthralled me.
Thanksgiving. We have lost sight of what is truly important. What do we have to be thankful for this year? Given all that Americans have suffered and lost, it doesn’t seem like there’s much to be thankful for. And while I understand the need for all the changes to our national holiday this year, I don’t have to like it. Not at all. And yet there are things to be thankful for. Like what you ask.
Family? Spending time with family will be relegated to telephone calls, FaceTime, Zoom, or any other method we can come up with to see and spend time with family. I am thankful for those methods we have at our fingertips to see and talk to loved ones. That we even have loved ones who we can call is a blessing and a cause to be thankful. Some do not. Yes, I’m exceedingly thankful for my family.
Provision? In a time where there are nations who are starving, we have an abundance of food in our pantries and freezers. Restaurants who will make your Thanksgiving meal. I’m thankful for a well-prepared meal, even if I have to prepare it myself. It’s not about the turkey and trimmings or having a day off from work (some even have two days off.) It’s about Thanking God for His Provision in our lives.
So.. we return to the core of why we celebrate Thanksgiving. Opening the door to our hearts will enable us to give thanks for those things in our lives. Search for something in which to give thanks this day, and every day.