THE OTHER DAY I CRIED

I cried the other day. I was at a planned work appointment. The appointment was arranged to be on a ship on the historic waterfront of Boston. The Charlestown Shipyard is a beautiful place. The weather was very hot; in the 90's. I thought the breeze would be a welcomed reprieve from the heat. I arrived early. I did so for two reasons. I am notorious for running behind the appointed time for a meeting and I did not want to be one of the minority Negroes who kept the boat waiting. The second reason and the most important one is this: I have a disability. My ambulation has been compromised by the long term side effect of diabetes. I have nerve damage in my feet and severe arthritis stemming from another diabetic condition. I have to be planful about walking. I arrived early to check out the area and to give myself enough time to negotiate the terrain. Charlestown is full of cobblestone walks and streets. Cobblestone is beautiful and quaint but it is hard to walk on.

Proud of the fact that I was the first to arrive I stationed myself under a shelter and awaited the arrival of my co-workers. Eventually they arrived in a festive mood. I, on the other hand, was apprehensive. I wanted to know how far the walk to the ship was. I had already struggled with the walk from the parking garage to the meeting place and as I've already explained it was hot. After a few moments of chit-chat and formalities we all began the trek to the ship. I lagged behind. I am used to moving a little more slowly these days. I've adjusted. What is hard for me is to take the gentle kindnesses of people willing to assist me. I guess it's a pride thing and probably a man thing too. I am both. A very gracious woman and friendly colleague sidled up to me and said quietly; "Let me take your bag". I insisted that I had it all under control and gently refused her offer. My colleague said in a firm and determined voice just above a whisper (in a voice I have heard many women of African descent use so many times before); "Give me the bag". I acquiesced and she carried the bag for me to the ship. I struggled to keep a pace that was relatively swift while others occasionally asked me about my progress and well being. I waved them on and said I'd catch up. I felt old. I felt embarrassed. I was uncomfortable.

An office mate of mine stayed behind with me to ensure that I was not left alone in the oppressive heat with my feet struggling to carry my load over the uneven sidewalk. I misstepped a couple of times and I prayed that I would not fall. I finally arrived at the gate to the plank like ramp that would lead to the deck that would lead to the ship. I braved the ramp. It is no small feat to walk a ramp at a 45 degree angle with a cane. I did it, walking on my heels because my feet cannot grip as they once did. Once on the narrow and floating deck I was even more uncomfortable. The deck wavered with the water and I panicked. I did not want to fall over in the water on either side of the deck. Another co-worker had just pointed out that the water was filled with jelly fish. I peered over the left side to see more jelly fish than I had ever seen in my life at one time! Nervous, embarrassed, I continued on cautiously. I was offered a wheel chair to assist me (get away from me with a wheel chair!). What I needed was a deck that didn't waiver.....or a meeting that was closer to the shore...or a new pair of feet; but none of these were immediate options. I continued on the deck until a small wave moved the deck for the third time. I temporarily lost my balance, quickly regained it and stopped walking altogether. I determined that I was through trying to navigate this walk of horrors and decided to return to my vehicle and go back to my office. I announced my intention and turned around to make the trek back. I asked for someone to get my briefcase and I made it back to the parking lot. I was driven to my car by the co-worker who lagged behind with me. She was sweet to do that.

When I finally paid my parking fee which was $9.00 for 90 minutes. I sat in my car and wept. I cried because I was embarrassed, I cried because I was angry. I cried because I felt humiliated and defeated. I cried because I felt sorry for myself. I cried because I felt that my needs were not considered in the planning of the meeting. I cried because I was mad at myself for not following my instinct the night before to cancel my appearance at the meeting believing the walk would be prohibitive. I was mad at the doctors who didn't catch the diabetic syndrome happening in my feet and discharged me from the hospital with a broken foot that collapsed two days later, (That's a whole 'nuther story boys and girls). I was even a little mad at GOD for a minute. I don't know why, really. I guess I needed someone to blame and HE seemed convenient. I quickly repented and asked HIM what I could learn from the incident. I am not sure. I am thinking about it. I know that my own disability has made me much more aware of other people's struggles with architecture; stairs, hallways, the lack of seating in public places, etcetera. It has made me a more compassionate person. Isn't that what our troubles are designed to do in a sense? 2 Corinthians 1:4 says that we comfort others with the same comfort with which we ourselves are comforted; That comfort comes from GOD. Some experiences are not for us. They happen to us but they are not specifically for us. Is is possible that my disability has a greater reason than diabetic complications or an arrogant doctor's error? I think so. I never paid much attention to the fact that so many churches with the sign "ALL ARE WELCOME" under the church name have made no provision for the elderly, the sick or the disabled to enter those buildings. I am now acutely aware. I am more patient as people cross the street while I wait at a light. I notice high curbs and have assisted others in managing them. I once saw a man struggling to get his wife from her wheelchair into their car. My heart was touched and I (along with my cane) assisted the elderly gentleman in his task. I was his hero that day. It reminded me of how GOD's grace works in us. We are not perfect; no not at all, but what HE has deposited can be a blessing to someone else.

For the Christian our troubles work within us a work that is far greater than the immediate happening of trouble or disaster or disability. If we are wise we will allow the work of the Holy Spirit to transform us on the inside. I am indeed different on the outside but I am much more transformed on the inside because of the lessons I've learned through the adversity I've experienced over the past 10 years or so. Like the old saints used to say; "I wouldn't take nothin' for my journey."

I've stopped feeling sorry for myself and I am in a more reflective mood. In my refection I can see the hand of GOD at work on my behalf in the two women who assisted me. They were like goodness and mercy that morning. I thank GOD for them and today they are in my prayers of thanksgiving. I feel blessed. It's my turn to comfort someone else. Thanks for listening.