My response to a seminary students request for information about how I do disability ministry:
I’m not an ordained pastor, but I am a minister of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
When I met Earl, I didn’t know Jesus and had no desire to meet Him. I continued to fight His presence the first four years of our marriage. Then I went on a Walk to Emmaus where I accepted Jesus’ love and forgiveness. Eight months later, I was paralyzed in an accident.
After rehabilitation at the number one spinal cord injury rehab in the United States, I became very depressed. I withdrew for hours, sleeping or just hiding behind veiled eyes.
When Earl took me out I couldn’t handle the stares, the “I’m so sorry,” and the patting on my shoulders. Servers in restaurants wouldn’t give me a menu and asked Earl, “What does she want?” without looking at me. I took my anger out on my family and friends. (Today we joke about the “spirit of slap” that came over me.)
I begged God, “Please, at least heal my hands so I can take care of myself.” Instead, He began a ministry of teaching and speaking to small groups.
A monthly Sunday school teaching led to teaching every Sunday. A young women’s Bible study, a weekly prayer group, and a daily telephone ministry with women who couldn’t attend Church followed. Soon I was president of the women’s group, chair of the evangelism committee, and chaired the conference-level disability team.
I’m a certified lay speaker and have filled the pulpit, testified before both large and small groups, and spoken before the pastors, laypersons and members of our regional conference.
Acceptance not just of my disability but also my abilities came through ministry to others and by allowing others to minister to me. I’m well known in my Church and secular communities for telling people what Jesus has done for me.
"And He Himself gave some to be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, and some pastors and teachers, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, for the equipping of the saints for the work of ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ, till we all come to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to a perfect man, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ;" Ephesians 4:11-14
In Christ Alone,
Berta
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Saturday, March 17, 2012
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
How Do You Eat A Peppermint?
I wish I could savor the sweet coolness of the red and white disk. Letting it slowly dissolve as my saliva washes away each granule of sugar. As the shape reduces, tiny holes perforate the sliver of now white candy; you know those spaces that allow you to apply suction through them to your cheek or lip. It thins, the edges become sharp, then it crumbles and is gone.
That rarely happens. Rather:
I so enjoy peppermint candy that I get two at a time—with Earl’s help. I first get them slick and pocket one in my right cheek, and begin chipping away at the other. I can sometimes break off such small pieces that they seem a waste but they're not. You see each small burst of flavor is as appreciated as a reward for doing good. I devour each lozenge quickly. Why? For that strong burst of pleasure!
While enjoying my peppermints one evening I thought, "Am I this way with God?" Instead of taking my time and enjoying each, and every moment that He gives me, do I burst through an experience, an emotion, a moment in time, for the instant reward? Do I live for Him or do I live for what He gives me?
Father, Open my eyes, my ears, and my spirit that I may seek Your face and consciously savor what You desire for me. In His name, Amen
You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart. (Psalm 51:6)
In Christ Alone,
Berta
That rarely happens. Rather:
I so enjoy peppermint candy that I get two at a time—with Earl’s help. I first get them slick and pocket one in my right cheek, and begin chipping away at the other. I can sometimes break off such small pieces that they seem a waste but they're not. You see each small burst of flavor is as appreciated as a reward for doing good. I devour each lozenge quickly. Why? For that strong burst of pleasure!
While enjoying my peppermints one evening I thought, "Am I this way with God?" Instead of taking my time and enjoying each, and every moment that He gives me, do I burst through an experience, an emotion, a moment in time, for the instant reward? Do I live for Him or do I live for what He gives me?
Father, Open my eyes, my ears, and my spirit that I may seek Your face and consciously savor what You desire for me. In His name, Amen
You desire truth in the inward being; therefore teach me wisdom in my secret heart. (Psalm 51:6)
In Christ Alone,
Berta
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Yes. You. Can.
When I came home from rehab five months after my spinal cord injury, I couldn’t hold my head up. I couldn’t speak above a whisper. And I couldn’t stay alone. I spent all my days reclined in my power wheel chair with my eyes closed.
Surgery to fuse my broken neck vertebra nine months later helped and I slowly gained strength in my neck, shoulders and arms. Though I became more able, I didn’t participate in my daily life. I expected Earl to take care of business.
“Berta, I want you to make your own appointments.”
My heart raced, “No.”
“Yes. Start by keeping up with your doctor’s appointments and your prescription medicines.”
Overwhelmed at the thought of exposing myself to people and how they might react to my disability; I refused.
He insisted.
I cried. “I can’t.”
He said, “Yes, you can!”
I got started. I created a list of my doctors and their telephone numbers. I set up a file of my medicines, including all the information I needed to order them. I discovered a calendar program on my computer and filled it in.
“Berta, when’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check your calendar.”
“Did you order your medicine?”
“No. I forgot.”
“Do it now.”
In our seventh year, he approached my Sunday school teacher, “Ask Berta to teach your class one Sunday a month.” I hesitated for a moment before agreeing.
“Berta, would you lead a Bible study for young women?” I did. “…write for the church newsletter…?” I did.
Earl continued to encourage me. Sometimes it was more forceful than I wanted. Today I’m thankful. I would not be who I am if he had not used tough love to bring me back to the living.
While talking to a new friend about his pushing me to do things for myself, Earl overheard me and commented, “I don’t know how she does all that she does today!”
It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes. --Ps 119:71 ESV
In Christ Alone,
Berta
Surgery to fuse my broken neck vertebra nine months later helped and I slowly gained strength in my neck, shoulders and arms. Though I became more able, I didn’t participate in my daily life. I expected Earl to take care of business.
“Berta, I want you to make your own appointments.”
My heart raced, “No.”
“Yes. Start by keeping up with your doctor’s appointments and your prescription medicines.”
Overwhelmed at the thought of exposing myself to people and how they might react to my disability; I refused.
He insisted.
I cried. “I can’t.”
He said, “Yes, you can!”
I got started. I created a list of my doctors and their telephone numbers. I set up a file of my medicines, including all the information I needed to order them. I discovered a calendar program on my computer and filled it in.
“Berta, when’s your next doctor’s appointment?”
“I don’t know.”
“Check your calendar.”
“Did you order your medicine?”
“No. I forgot.”
“Do it now.”
In our seventh year, he approached my Sunday school teacher, “Ask Berta to teach your class one Sunday a month.” I hesitated for a moment before agreeing.
“Berta, would you lead a Bible study for young women?” I did. “…write for the church newsletter…?” I did.
Earl continued to encourage me. Sometimes it was more forceful than I wanted. Today I’m thankful. I would not be who I am if he had not used tough love to bring me back to the living.
While talking to a new friend about his pushing me to do things for myself, Earl overheard me and commented, “I don’t know how she does all that she does today!”
It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn Your statutes. --Ps 119:71 ESV
In Christ Alone,
Berta
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
Love Your Neighbor
In the early days of my life with a spinal cord injury, a friend from our church visited our home while Earl was feeding me. She didn’t greet me but asked, “Oh Earl, can I feed her?”
Earl looked at my flushed face and saw tears drop from my bowed head to my lap. I was a baby. A cripple. An invalid. Humiliated and unable to take another bite I wheeled to my bedroom.
After that, when offered a cool glass of water I would respond, “I’m OK. Earl will be here in a few minutes.”
“Can I get that for you?”
“Earl will get it.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Earl will get me something when he gets back.”
Earl encouraged me, “Berta, you need to let others help you sometimes.”
After months in rehab learning to do things for myself and trusting people around me, I had let that one statement steal my self-esteem.
Once I allowed my friends to help me, I found a new purpose in my life. I made a list of telephone numbers of women in our church that couldn’t always come to services. Each morning I prayed over my list and asked God to bless them in whatever struggle they were in. Then I picked one number to call. I had no idea what we would talk about once they answered, but I dialed their numbers anyway.
In the beginning, my calls surprised the women. They surprised me too. However, God had a plan.
There were women on my list that I never met face to face. I finally met Callie after two years of telephone ministry. Some women were young. Some were old. All needed Christian love, acceptance and encouragement—just like me. Over time, our relationships grew into a sisterhood of believers in Jesus that I‘d cherish forever.
Accepting the gifts of servants healed my crippled spirit.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Galatians 5:13,14 NIV).
In Christ Alone,
Berta
Earl looked at my flushed face and saw tears drop from my bowed head to my lap. I was a baby. A cripple. An invalid. Humiliated and unable to take another bite I wheeled to my bedroom.
After that, when offered a cool glass of water I would respond, “I’m OK. Earl will be here in a few minutes.”
“Can I get that for you?”
“Earl will get it.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Earl will get me something when he gets back.”
Earl encouraged me, “Berta, you need to let others help you sometimes.”
After months in rehab learning to do things for myself and trusting people around me, I had let that one statement steal my self-esteem.
Once I allowed my friends to help me, I found a new purpose in my life. I made a list of telephone numbers of women in our church that couldn’t always come to services. Each morning I prayed over my list and asked God to bless them in whatever struggle they were in. Then I picked one number to call. I had no idea what we would talk about once they answered, but I dialed their numbers anyway.
In the beginning, my calls surprised the women. They surprised me too. However, God had a plan.
There were women on my list that I never met face to face. I finally met Callie after two years of telephone ministry. Some women were young. Some were old. All needed Christian love, acceptance and encouragement—just like me. Over time, our relationships grew into a sisterhood of believers in Jesus that I‘d cherish forever.
Accepting the gifts of servants healed my crippled spirit.
You, my brothers and sisters, were called to be free. But do not use your freedom to indulge the flesh; rather, serve one another humbly in love. For the entire law is fulfilled in keeping this one command: “Love your neighbor as yourself” (Galatians 5:13,14 NIV).
In Christ Alone,
Berta
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
The Incarnation
This Christmas was difficult. I wasn't in the mood to celebrate. I didn't feel joyful. I felt Heaven's Loss.* I wept as I saw images of the incarnate Jesus wrapped in swaddling cloth and lying in a manger. Oh, the glory He left to redeem God's creation! The burden I felt did not lift as I prayed for understanding and talked with my husband, Earl.
I sobbed more deeply than ever before as the pain reached way into my spirit. I listened to friends mourning the loss of loved ones and saw sorrow in the eyes of a sister in Christ. There were many suffering trials.
I found a quiet place where I could think, meditate and pray. It was a balm to my spirit and I remembered my return home after my injury in 1991. To allow people to care for me was very difficult. I hated that I was dependent on others. Having someone bathe and dress me, pick me up and place me in my wheelchair, then feed me made me feel helpless, like a baby. Children often asked, "Why are you in a stroller"? Adults asked, "Oh. Can I feed her?" Others said, "I'm so sorry you have to be in that wheelchair."
I cried. I begged God to heal me. He didn't--then.
Sunday, January 1, 2011, will be the 21st anniversary of my spinal cord injury. I still can't walk, shower, dress, etc., but my spirit knows healing. It came through your ministry to me and evolved into my own ministry of healing through God's calling and your faith and encouragement.
Today I teach, both children and adults, about my disability and share my story and my faith wherever God opens a door.
In Christ Alone,
Berta
*Print by Ron DiCianni referred to last month.
Comment by Earl-
Incarnation, for God to be "in the flesh," meant Jesus not only felt what we felt, HE risked what we risk. Death, disease, disability became very possible with Incarnation. Hebrews 13:3 brings home this point about you and I being incarnate, when we are advised, "Remember the prisoners as if chained with them; those who are mistreated; since you yourselves are in the body also." (NKJV)
I sobbed more deeply than ever before as the pain reached way into my spirit. I listened to friends mourning the loss of loved ones and saw sorrow in the eyes of a sister in Christ. There were many suffering trials.
I found a quiet place where I could think, meditate and pray. It was a balm to my spirit and I remembered my return home after my injury in 1991. To allow people to care for me was very difficult. I hated that I was dependent on others. Having someone bathe and dress me, pick me up and place me in my wheelchair, then feed me made me feel helpless, like a baby. Children often asked, "Why are you in a stroller"? Adults asked, "Oh. Can I feed her?" Others said, "I'm so sorry you have to be in that wheelchair."
I cried. I begged God to heal me. He didn't--then.
Sunday, January 1, 2011, will be the 21st anniversary of my spinal cord injury. I still can't walk, shower, dress, etc., but my spirit knows healing. It came through your ministry to me and evolved into my own ministry of healing through God's calling and your faith and encouragement.
Today I teach, both children and adults, about my disability and share my story and my faith wherever God opens a door.
In Christ Alone,
Berta
*Print by Ron DiCianni referred to last month.
Comment by Earl-
Incarnation, for God to be "in the flesh," meant Jesus not only felt what we felt, HE risked what we risk. Death, disease, disability became very possible with Incarnation. Hebrews 13:3 brings home this point about you and I being incarnate, when we are advised, "Remember the prisoners as if chained with them; those who are mistreated; since you yourselves are in the body also." (NKJV)
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