I’m focusing on this word today because of a conversation I had recently with a woman while driving her to the Spaulding Rehabilitation Ctr. Before I get to my main point, I will have to back up a few days prior to meeting her. I found a request for transportation in my mailbox at work and tried to contact the person a few days before to iron out the details. I called the number on the form and since I didn’t get an answer I left a voice mail message asking that she contact me.
I awaited for her call and it never came but I did get a call from the receptionist telling me about the request. As I inquired about the lady I was told that she couldn’t speak too well and that’s probably the reason that she didn’t call. I used the secretary as a conduit between the lady and I to solidify a pickup time. I figured I would need at least forty-five minutes to get from Roslindale to Boston, especially on a Friday morning.
That evening as I was planning the route of travel I couldn’t help but think about what kind of a ride it would be, especially with a person that has a hard time communicating. I normally try to chit chat with my rider to make them feel at ease giving me a chance to get to know them a little bit better. I went to sleep with that thought or moreover that concern.
The next morning I arrived at Snow House a half hour early. I always like to make sure everything is in order with the van and allow extra time in the event that something goes awry.
I had parked the van outside the main entrance and went into the lobby to use the rest room before I embarked on my little trip. I bumped into a few residents who were coming down to get a cup of coffee and exchanged greetings with them. As I turned around I spotted a lady who I had never seen before. She was dressed in tan colored slacks with a matching plaid brownish jacket. She was thin and wiry with fairly good posture. It appeared that she had come from an upstairs apartment. As I made eye contact with her, I asked her if she was Nancy. She acknowledged this by nodding her head and saying something that sounded like yes. I introduced myself.
It was a little earlier than the time we had agreed upon and asked if she didn’t mind leaving then. She was okay with my suggestion. I escorted her in the van and made sure that she was buckled into her seat. AS I started to drive I decided not to say anything for fear that I would force her to do something that she might not feel comfortable with. To my surprise she started to speak as soon as we left the driveway and got into the flow of morning traffic. When she spoke I had a difficult time understanding some of the words and tried my best to make her feel at ease. Over the next five or ten minutes my ears were getting in tune with how she was speaking and I was able to understand 80% of what she was saying. Even when I didn’t get the gist of what she said, I politely would nod or say uh uh as an acknowledgement that I understood.
It would have been much easier If I could look at her while she spoke, but it was hard to do that and drive at the same time.
I was amazed at how much she talked. This woman’s new found handicap - she didn’t go looking for it as much as it found her - was a frustration. This woman had ALS, also known as Lou Gehrig’s Disease. I had heard of ALS from a few radio programs and from following the Red Sox. I was well aware that Curt Schilling and his wife were very active in raising money for this debilitating disease. Nancy was the first I met with ALS and I was curious in finding out more about it. Nancy told me how in a high percentage of cases start at attacking the legs but in her case it started with her mouth. She willingly explained that she started to notice her teeth aching and how she was fortunate in having a primary care physician who eventually did some tests that pinpointed that she had ALS.
I asked her if she could see a digression in her speech and she said that it was getting worse and knew that sooner or later she would lose the ability to talk. In a short period of time I found out that she was a very independent person losing her husband early in life and having to raise five children. She talked about her father, an Irish immigrant, who was a Boston cop who had worked years ago in the neighborhood where I grew up, the North End.
She was thankful of having lived a good life and for being able to do many things and for reaching the age of seventy-five which she did not demonstrate. As we talked about her condition she mentioned that it was frustrating for her in not being able to communicate as well as she would like.
I was able to look at her whenever we stopped at a traffic light and I could see the concerted effort she was making to speak. It took a lot to put a sentence together. She was going to Spaulding Rehab. to get some information on a computer that she could use in helping her communicate.
My concerns of having to endure a dull and boring ride remained pleasantly unfulfilled. I was inspired by the efforts made by this woman to overcome her handicap.
Later on I dwelled on the experience and started to think about the word frustration. It made me think of what frustrates me. I get frustrated when I try to tackle what seems to be a very easy fix up chore around the house only to find that I lack the proper tools for the job. I get frustrated when I procrastinate and it comes back to bite me.
Some things that frustrate me are caused by my own shortcomings where Nancy’s frustrations are caused by the physical handicap that’s a by-product of ALS disease.
My frustrations are nothing in comparison with Nancy’s. Her frustrations are equivalent to sufferings. Which brought to mind the passage from Romans 8, 18 -21;
I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God; for the creation was subjected to futility, not of its own but by the will of him who subjected it in hope; because the creation itself will be set free from the bondage to decay and obtain the glorious liberty of the children of God.
Nancy was frustrated but at the same time she was thankful for what she had been given.
Thank you Lord for the goodness you bestow on us every day.
Thank you Lord for making me understand that it's not what I want that's important but what YOU want.
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