Opening Doors — Bless Those Who Keep Our Sights on the Mountain Top

Have you ever had a day in which the contrasts were so extreme you couldn’t fully process them? I had just such a day one Sunday several weeks ago, when my plans included both a stop at a disabilities event and participation in a monastic prayer service.
The scene at the disabilities fair was one of noise and controlled chaos, with wheelchairs, walkers and various other accessibility devices much in view. Those who attended came not only for information from the exhibitors, but also to celebrate triumphs and share the challenges of living with a disability.
In this specialized environment, all seemed “comfortable in their own skin,” no matter what the nature of their disability or how awkward their progress around the large hall. There were many sidebar conversations, particularly parent-to-parent, regarding efforts to secure the services necessary for the quality of life their loved ones deserve. Sadly, there were also stories of neglect and abuse in settings thought to be safe for adult children.
Two hours and several miles later, I found myself in a setting that seemed straight out of a scene from “The Sound of Music.” Nuns glided almost soundlessly in and out of the pews of a magnificent chapel. Lay people like me, who had been invited to evening prayer, kept comments to a minimum and even those were in hushed tones.
The only breaks in the silence were from recitation of prayers, sung responses and the sweet sounds of a bell choir. It was a beautiful experience, and I have always appreciated the power of prayer and meditation. But I must admit that initially it was difficult to reconcile this other-worldly environment with the “real-life” experience earlier in the day.
My reflection brought me back to my own religious tradition that over the years has tried to maintain a balance between faith and action. I know that Diane and Robin, two women who initiated the disabilities fair I attended that day, have been advocating for the most vulnerable in our society for more than 30 years as part of the Family Alliance to Stop Abuse and Neglect.
These women, like many at their event, draw strength from their faith in a higher power and in the goodness of many in the community. But their strategy for daily living includes a very active agenda for improving life for those with disabilities.
For Diane and Robin, the main focus is on legislation that will prevent the serious and sometimes life-threatening situations that face those who cannot protect themselves. They guided the passage of Danielle’s Law, named in honor of Diane’s daughter, which requires caregivers to call 9-1-1 immediately if someone in their charge is displaying critical symptoms. Through their efforts, too, Stephen’s Law, which imposes a penalty on drivers who don’t properly secure their wheelchair passengers, was passed and signed.
As a caregiver for many years, I am amazed and in awe of those like Diane and Robin who advocate not only for their own family’s needs but also for the needs of the wider disabilities community. Their efforts are surely a sign of hope and a source of hope to those who otherwise might find the weight of disability too much to bear. Henri Nouwen, writer, lecturer and chaplain at L’Arche, a community for the developmentally disabled, pays tribute to these bearers of hope in “Can You Drink the Cup”:
“We often want to bury or cover over the hard things in life, but…Community is a fellowship of people who do not hide their joys and sorrows but make them visible to each other in a gesture of hope. …that the wounds of our individual lives, which seem intolerable when lived alone, become sources of healing as part of a fellowship of mutual care.”
During this holy season of hope and renewal and, yes, miracles, may they be blessed who persevere in the trenches while never losing sight of the mountain top.
Pierson is the Coordinator of the Cape May County Office of Disability Services