Caring Enough to Care

     Today I went to church.  It was not in a steepled building with a cross above, or gold-roofed dome, or any of the other culturally recognizable architecture designated as "churchy".  This was a small office on the third floor of an agency that helps persons with disabilities.  There were four of us at church today.  A 21 year old man, his mother, the agency counselor and me.

     You see, for this 21 year old man, throughout his whole life, especially from kindergarten through his high school years, he was told he was mentally retarded.  He was placed in classes with others like him and he was good at being what others said he was.  He fulfilled the ideals of his own self-identity as it was told to him by those in positions of authority in school.

     Ah....but then he graduated and became part of the throngs of people looking for work, any kind of work, in order to make a life for himself.

     Now enter the agency counselor, who is the pastor, priest or rabbi of this church service. When she met with this 21 year old man she instantly realized that the previous school records she read about him did not match the person she was interviewing.  So, she ordered new intellect and cognitive evaluations.  And today we were gathered together to find out the results.

     When we sat down at the small round formica table we did not make the sign of the cross, or utter a prayer in unison.  And yet, the same feeling of reverence came over me as I watched the proceedings.  I lost myself in the moment, and somewhat like Charlie Brown around those muffled adults voices, the tones of muted trumpets "whaaaa whaaa".were all I seemed to hear. The truth is I knew the content of the report just by watching the 21 year old man's face. He was smiling the kind of smile that shone with light.  As he turned to his mother, she too smiled a mother's smile, punctuated with a tear.  Words that actually found their way through my overwhelming emotion were  "21 points higher than previously tested", "mental retardation no longer appropriate" and only "borderline" cognitive impairment.

     It has been a very long time since I stepped foot in a church.  But I do remember the feelings that come over me when I truly feel close to God, and that same feeling of hope, awe and gratefulness came over me today around that small formica table as I sat ...and watched.

     Many thanks to an agency counselor who cared enough to make today this 21 year old man's re-birth day.  I love going to church!

I love what I do.

Even Playing Field

What does that mean, even playing field?  For the majority of those living in the US it means having the same chance as the next person to get an education, heathcare, and a job.  Well, it seems that over the last few years even the most evenly played fields are sloped.  And what does that mean for folks who carry another burden of enculterated bias?

The discussion topic today is just that.  Bias relative to persons with physical or intellectual disabilities.  Is there someone in your family, your workplace, your class, your church, who has a disability?  What do you notice about the way they experience life?  Does the person fit into any biases you acquired growing up?  Or just the opposite?  How have they impacted you, personally?

This is a true interactive blog.  Please post.  Make your comments with careful consideration.  Humor is heartily welcome here. :)