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Dear Judy,
A few years ago I took part
in a seminar presented by the Helen Keller Institute on training
people with multiple disabilities. My difficulties resulting
from multiple sclerosis paled in comparison, let me tell you!
I learned about a young woman
whose predicament I've never forgotten. The profound impression
made by her story has helped me to weather some stormy days.
[From whence did her help come? ...]
The young woman, thirty-four
years old and with average intelligence, arrived at this point
in her life with total blindness and total deafness. A rare illness
threatened to take her life. If Dr. Kevorkian had been practicing
his physician-assisted suicide at that time, I don't believe
she would have given his solution a moment's consideration. She
learned of her condition and her option--there was really only
one for a fighter such as she--through tactile communication.
People spelled into the palm of her hand, and she responded likewise.
She also hugged and received hugs; she cried, sharing tears and
drying eyes, too. We weren't told so in the seminar, but I believe
she also clasped hands in prayer both by herself and with others.
How she received her strength was of major concern to me, especially
when I heard what that death-defying option was: a drug which
held the terrifying risk that she might lose all tactile sensation.
She chose life even with that
risk. I think she must have had an extraordinary faith in the
salvation of Jesus Christ and in His presence with us in times
of trouble. Extraordinary. She survived the illness, but she
lived without any contact whatsoever with the world around her.
No longer could she laboriously
spell out her needs or thoughts to another human being. No longer
could she feel the embrace of someone else. No sight. No sound.
No sensation of touch. Some people might think that is a picture
of hell, but hell is the absence of God. Hell is life so empty
that death is the choice.
God did not give this woman
the illnesses which brought on her disabilities. God did not
choose this means of testing her. He would never subject one
of His sons or daughters to such a fate. Rather, He sorrows with
her. Our Savior Jesus Christ embraces her, wipes her tears and
fills her life with abundance, I'm sure of it.
I don't fear death. I don't
fear life with multiple sclerosis. Jesus abides (*) with me.
(*)Sometime, consider the rich meaning of that word. For now,
God go with us both.
Your friend in Christ,
Phyllis
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