Say what you mean

This guy at work was telling me about his weekend. He had gone hiking and seen a fox.

I was jealous. I have never seen a fox, I told him. He said they  are probably scared of Claren.

I agreed, but  added that even before I had her I never saw one when I was out "walking about."

He looked kind of surprised, so I named some places I was like Great Falls.

He didn't care about where. He had picked up on the "walking" and wanted to know if I walked.

The funny thing was I did not mean I walked. I was just using walked to mean "got from there to here."

Jesus gets me

Jesus had a crap day today.

It is important for me to remember this.

I need to know that whatever I face, he went through worse ... not because it reminds me that I got off lucky if God did that to his son. I need to remember because it means that God, part of him anyway, knows all about my problems.

Jesus knows what I go through.

Pain: Being nailed to a cross beats banging your head into the side of a car. It even beats a growly stomach.

Despair: No one really knows what he said at Gethsemane. But how could he not despair. He lived a model life. Now he was being asked to die?

Anguish: Even if you believe Jesus was mostly a God who knew the future and his powers, he was still a man. That humanity could not help but feel great doubts about everything. No man could have been sure everything would work out. He may have had enough faith to overcome his doubts, but he had them. And those doubts are more serious than my concerns at the moment. 

Like whether to use a personal attendant at this workshop next month. My sister thinks I am being pig-headed not to accept help -- a belief confirmed by a fall this morning that required help from my brother-in-law. It's not that, well, mostly. I am just not at all sure I can let a stranger help me that intimately.

Loneliness:  Both Jesus and I have perfect mothers, and I have wonderful family, too. (I imagine he did as well, but whatever.) Nonetheless he felt alone on that cross, forsaken even. I know he gets how I can feel that surrounded by the love I have.

Quite accessible

I spent the day at the training center in West Virginia seeing if it is as accessible as billed. It is.

I an see myself surviving there, especially with my power chair. It is a lot of walking.

The bathroom has bars everywhere so that should work. The only issue is the bed. It is  a good height, but there is nothing to hold onto and help one transfer.

Now I have to decide if I need help.

Gotta love it?

I am not one to disagree with my 7-year-old nephew ... but ...

My manual chair was out because I am taking it Thursday when Mom and Dad take me to scope out the training center in West Virginia.

My nephew and his sister were giving each other rides in the manual chair. My sister asked what they were doing and my niece told her. To which my nephew added, "Gotta love it."

I was at work for these shenanigans, but Mom and my sister told me.

Taxi driver

I am waiting for my new beaded seat cushion to come in the mail from Amazon. I will soon realize my dream of looking like a taxi driver.

It looks kind of dorky, actually.

I cut off the seat part and just use the back. It may look silly.

But it will mean I do not have to wring out my shirt when I get home. I hate my wheelchair, did you know? The back is bulky and is made of cheap plastic that cracks real easy and stores heat.

A dorky look is a small price to pay.