Courage is not for Sissies

Joni was 16 years old when she dove into Chesapeake Bay. She had everything going for her. She was young, beautiful, and full of energy. She was swimming with her sister, Kathy, who became concerned when she didn't surface. It was Kathy who pulled her from the water, soaking wet, stunned and paralyzed from the neck down.

Imagine the horror of realizing life as you knew it was over. Imagine you were confined to a bed with no hope of ever leaving it. Imagine your boyfriend shaking his head as he explains he just can't handle it and won't be coming to visit any longer. Imagine a stream of endless days spent staring at the ceiling or the floor, unable to even take your own life. In my worst dreams I can't conceive what that would feel like.

I was eating lunch with friends yesterday when a woman stopped to say hello to me. She mentioned that she met me at a Weight Watchers group meeting some years back, after I had lost 100 pounds. She said she had never been able to get my story out of her head and was, in fact, just thinking about me a few days before. She said, "I see that you've lost even more weight." I didn't remember her face but I remember sitting at that meeting. I remember feeling alone, hopeless and seeking a way to deal with my food addiction. I sat in a room with a bunch of heavy people and thought, "These people understand my problem but they can't fix me." Yesterday, she patted me on the shoulder before walking away and said, "It's great to see you. You are such an inspiration." Her comments made me feel uncomfortable, as did the succeeding words from my friends. Maybe they didn't notice I had just finished inhaling my food. They couldn't feel my stomach, expanded and tight. They didn't know my pants were cutting deeply into my waist or that I was already thinking about ice cream and how badly I wanted it. They didn't know I would spend the afternoon fighting off the urge to eat Valentine's cookies that had been provided for the department next to mine. They just smiled and laughed and said, "Margaret, you need to have more confidence in yourself." They mean well. And I love them. But they can't see the darkness inside my heart and how desperately I am fighting against it. I don't feel like an inspiration to anybody. I feel like a drowning man trying to climb out of a pit of tar.

Joni Eareckson Tada is my inspiration. She understands the darkness of physical, emotional and mental deterioration. While her journey is different than mine she knows what it means to suffer and to choose to live. After all, it really does come down to choice. When confronted with the unimaginable, we can choose to shut down or move forward. I admit, some days I choose to shut down. I need to soak in the pain and grieve the brokenness of this world I live in. I take comfort in the food I so desperately crave and then deal with the resulting guilt and tight clothing. I realize my size has no relevance to who I am in the grand scheme of things. I just feel like I should have a label on my forehead that says, "Weak."

Joni wanted to give up. She longed for death. But her friends and family wouldn't let her go. They pushed through her anger, through the walls she put up, and through the despair that gripped her heart. They loved her through and showed her the way out. She has talked openly about her friend, Steve Estes, who continued to visit her in the hospital, even when she told him not to. He told her about Jesus and forced her to make a choice.

Today, Joni is the head of Joni and Friends, an international ministry that helps paraplegics and others who are crippled in spirit. She speaks into the lives of those abandoned and hurting, and offers hope. She never got the miracle she prayed for…to walk. She does all this from a wheelchair because she is still paralyzed from the neck down and does not have the use of her arms or legs. She is not perfect. She's not a saint. But I listen to her because to me, her words have power. They have power because she speaks from a position of pain. She has to deal daily with bedsores, pneumonia, fatigue and an incapacitated body. Yet she sings and speaks of hope.

Come to think of it, maybe I am a little like Joni. I am constantly dealing with the choice to give up and lie down, or live. Maybe that is why people find my story inspirational. Today, though faced with disappointment over something I was really hoping for, I choose to live. And believe me, it's a lot harder than it looks. But no one ever said courage was for the faint of heart.