Because my arthritis began when I was ten-years-old, I found myself living vicariously through the athleticism of baseball and football players and Olympic athletes. Their bodies could do far beyond anything my body would ever allow me to do. All my body could be counted on doing was betray me.
It was only a couple decades into my life that I realised that I wasn’t just admiring the bodies of athletes, I was despising my own body. Why in the world would God do this to me? What good is a cripple? Only after I began working as a counsellor was I able to see the purpose in being “in-valid,” in the eyes of most of the world. My body, such as it is, quite simply makes me non-threatening to those who feel very threatened by their own failings as they attempt to navigate the vagaries of life.
“Without your wounds where would your power be? It is your melancholy that makes your low voice tremble into the hearts of men and women. The very angels themselves cannot persuade the wretched and blundering children on earth as can one human being broken on the wheels of living. In Love’s service, only wounded soldiers can serve. Physician, draw back.”
Thornton Wilder
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