Watching my brother, who had a friendly fun-loving personality, go through his teenage years often struggling to communicate with his hearing peers, helped foster a strong sense of compassion for deaf people. Eventually God used this connection to lead me into a career serving as a sign language interpreter which I’ve done for 33 years now. Currently, I am the Director of Deaf and Hard of Hearing Services for Liberty University in Lynchburg, Virginia, but I will always think of myself as simply an interpreter who provides communication access between the deaf and hearing worlds.
In 2018, I walked through the hardest year of my life. My son, Kaiden, received an autism diagnosis. Six months later, my husband, Matt, boarded a plane to go halfway around the world to serve our country for a year. So, there I was, trying to navigate the uncharted waters of all things therapy for my son while helping my daughter survive second grade. I felt like it was more than I could handle. But that is when we learn to lean on God’s everlasting arms.
This week is Direct Support Professionals’ Recognition Week. Before I began working at The Banquet Network, I worked in the field as a direct support professional for two and a half years. The weight of expending your energy to care for others can be exhausting. This type of work is known to have high turnover due to the risk of burnout. Though there are hard and low days, there are also good and memorable days -- like the day I heard Ben complete a full sentence for the first time. Investing in others is rewarding.
Since becoming legally blind, there are few places in the world where I feel more useless than in an unfamiliar grocery store. I stand next to rows and rows of condiments and cutlery, unsure of what anything around me is, unable to use my sense of smell or sound to identify the similarly packaged objects.
One of the most frequent questions I receive while coaching churches at The Banquet Network is, “Should we invest in this if we don’t currently have individuals in our church that will use it?” My answer used to be, “Maybe.” Maybe wait until a person with hearing impairments needs the sign language interpreter. Maybe hold back on the Braille Bibles until someone asks for one. Hold off on ordering the noise cancelling headphones until you have a child who will actually use them.
The weekend of July 23rd, 2021, The Banquet Network partnered with the BCMD (Baptist Convention of Maryland and Delaware) to put on Celebrate Abilities Weekend Camp for children and young adults with disabilities. The camp was hosted at the Skycroft Baptist Convention Center in Middletown, MD. To say it was a blast is an understatement. This was the first time in The Banquet Network and BCMD history that a camp was held for individuals who have disabilities.
I hear several loud knocks on our churches side entrance door. “Buster is here!” I yell in a sing song voice. Buster came to our church as “the guy in the wheelchair.” But it didn’t take long for our church to see he was much more than the guy in the wheelchair. He was the guy who fist bumped new visitors. He was the guy who asked how you were doing and really wanted to know how you were actually doing. The guy who got my kids Christmas and birthday presents and always prayed for my family. The guy who gave God all the glory and shared his testimony to anyone who would listen.
“Trash bag”, I repeated. “You know, trash bag.” The store clerk stared blankly at me. We had just moved to England, and were trying to set up our house, but as hard as we searched we could not find trash bags. Then the lightbulb went off in the store clerk’s eyes – “Ah, you mean rubbish sacks!” In the six months since moving to the UK, we have had countless experiences like this one. Undoubtedly, we think we have the right word to universally describe an item or phenomenon, but over and over we find that our terms are neither right, nor universally understood.
John 5:1-15 recounts Jesus’ awareness of a paralyzed man who was surrounded by crowds of disabled people. In this encounter, Jesus shows us three qualities of disability awareness. Learn more about how we can image Jesus’ heart and awareness throughout this passage in the book of John.
My heart feels heavy from a conversation I had with a friend and fellow special needs parent. “Allison, you know more than you show; trust your shot,” they said. They were referring to basketball. A game I know next to nothing about other than the fact that in order to succeed in getting the basketball into the net, the shooting player must “trust his shot.”
"This particular Sunday, as Pastor Williams talked about sin, he said something to the effect of, "Sin is like being blind. You can't see things. You stumble. You trip. You miss things." Jeremy couldn't tell, but he wondered if everyone was now looking at him. He wondered if those around him now saw his blindness as sin. "Do they think I am blind because of something I did years ago?" he thought to himself."
I’m not a bad mom. This is what I tell myself as my husband and I are driving home from a short anniversary getaway. I’m not a bad mom because I don’t want to go home. I’m a mom who endures a lot of stress to care for children who have additional needs. I’m afraid to have to face my “normal” again after a few days of respite. The closer we drive towards our home, the more the anxiety builds. I’m overwhelmed. How could the peace and rest I felt just a few moments ago all be gone by simply thinking of returning home?
Referring to a bell curve design, Davenport said, “We design our world for people who are in the middle of the bell curve.” He used the example of desks and smartphone features designed for right-handed individuals. “We make things to work for those in the middle then lopped off the ends of the bell curve. “We are leaving people off on the end. That’s where Jesus is. We are in the middle, and we serve a God who goes to the end of the bell curve. He leaves the 99 sheep to go for the lost one. How can we rethink our churches to work for individual people?” Davenport said it’s hard, takes effort, isn’t economical, and is not efficient, but it’s the heart of Jesus.
My son Kaiden used to be obsessed with handshakes. He would touch a complete stranger’s arm in hopes of watching my husband or I would shake the stranger’s hand while my son jumped up and down with joy.
Since his son was born with infantile epilepsy 18 years ago, Liberty University John W. Rawlings School of Divinity professor Dr. Chris Hulshof (’93, ’95, ’10) has made it his mission in life to educate others about the importance of ministering to the disabled.
