Monday Musings (on Tuesday) for 5.26.20
Among the COVID-19 related deaths last week was Annie Glenn. She was the widow of John Glenn, the first man to orbit the earth. They were married 73 years. He lived to be 95. She lived to be 100.
I was fascinated by our manned space program. It was my absolute passion all the way through grade school. I would be up early to watch every launch. I had a scrapbook in which I saved every newspaper clipping. In sixth grade I wrote an 81-page paper on Project Gemini.
Annie Glenn’s death brought back those memories. It also brought back a different memory. I had a severe stuttering problem through much of grade school. I was the only one in my school as far as I knew. But when I was told that Annie Glenn also stuttered, I knew I wasn’t the only one. That felt good.
Annie Glenn was 53 when she attended a three-week treatment course that helped her. It didn’t “cure” her stuttering, but for the first time in her life she was able to speak with confidence.
I didn’t have to wait that long. There was a speech therapist at my school. His name was Bob Hammond. I give him a lot of credit. It’s also possible that I just “outgrew” my problem. I don’t consider myself “cured”, but I am very fortunate that for me stuttering is mainly a distant memory. I don’t think you would have wanted a stuttering preacher!
We all have disabilities. Some we overcome. Some we live with. Some push us to do things we otherwise would never have done.
Our Richard Pimentel is a well-known advocate for people with disabilities. He sent me this. It was written by Tim Shriver.
Beatitudes for Friends of People with Disabilities
Blessed are you who take time to listen to difficult speech, for you help me to know that if I persevere I can be understood.
Blessed are you who never bid me to “hurry up” and take my tasks from me and do them for me, for I often need time rather than help.
Blessed are you who stand beside me as I enter new and untried ventures, for my failures will be outweighed by the times I surprise myself and you.
Blessed are you who asked for my help, for my greatest need is to be needed.
Blessed are you who understand that it is difficult for me to put my thoughts into words.
Blessed are you who, with a smile, encourage me to try once more.
Blessed are you who never remind me that today I asked the same question two times.
Blessed are you who respect me and love me as I am, and not as you wish I were.