Michelle Obama said something striking as I watched her speech at the Democratic National Convention the other night. She said, “Barack was never interested in how much money he could make, but in how many lives he could change.” It gave me goose bumps and spoke right to my heart. I admire him for that. She spoke of how he’s the same man now he was when he was poor. When he had a hole in his car picking her up for dates, or when his best shoes were too tight. I thought it was charming. I admired the way she saw the difference in him. I think we all do whether or not we agree with all of his ideals.
Her mentioning our president interested in changing lives resonated with me, because that is what I want to do. I’m here for a certain period. We all are. I want to do something good with it. In life, we never find success without taking chances. I feel I have a purpose here. To help others who’ve had tragedies like me. So I pray for God to lead me, and he does. And for him to guide me, and he does.
Father Dressman asks me to “see this as a gift, if I can offer it for the needs of others” in a prayer he designed for me. “I ask you Lord, to heal my brokenness. I have a body that doesn’t always work right. I know it is your gift to me. So many others have so much less,” he writes.
This sentence is like an oxymoron. How can I see disability as a gift? What is a gift about it? The all too often pain in my right leg? Or the weakness in my trunk? It’s not the occasional questions of “what happened to me.” But the second part is the catch. “If I can offer it for the needs of others.” If good can come out of this, than indeed it is a gift. And a lot of good has. I’m praying for more. I have a desire in my heart. It consumes me. If only people can see how God helped me, brought me through and kept me happy than maybe they can be inspired to get through their injuries too. And as I’m helping them, I’m helping me. And that feels great!