For as long as I can remember, I have longed for a best friend; someone who would love me, no matter what. For most of my life, I have had this dream, but it has eluded me. Sure, I have had best friends, but none that have retained that title for longer than a year or so. Either I get to know the person intimately and run, or vice versa. Something always happens to burst my best friend bubble. When I first met Amy nine years ago at church, I was not impressed. During Sunday school class we exchanged not-so-pleasant words. I decided right then and there that I could cross Amy off my potential best friend list.
A few years later, Amy and I were "thrown together" at a church-sponsored women's retreat. After spending time with her, I was captivated. She was much different than she had been during our first encounter. Suddenly, the harsh words we had shared during that first meeting no longer mattered. I discovered that Amy was a joy to be around, that she was unbelievably funny and amazingly refreshing. We had become friends.
I hesitated in my heart to even think about a best friend relationship with Amy. Yes, I still longed for a best friend, but I was afraid of having my heart broken again. Soon it became impossible to think of Amy in any other way. I finally had my long-awaited best friend. So why was I still hesitant to give my whole self to this relationship? Because Amy lived her life from a wheelchair.
Please don't misunderstand me; there is nothing wrong with wheelchair-bound individuals. It's just that when I had dreamed about life with a best friend, I took a rather selfish approach. I fantasized about the wonderful ways in which a best friend could be there for ME. She could baby-sit for ME when I needed a break. She could run a 5K race with ME. WE could take long walks on the beach together. WE could go on numerous vacations, with not a care in the world! When I thought about life with Amy, I realized that, short of a miracle, we would never be able to do these things together. And that made me sad.
Eventually the sadness disappeared and I began to focus on the wonderful person that Amy is. I began to realize that Amy could give me so much more than I ever dreamed of, only in different ways than I had envisioned. She has truly given so much more to me than I have given her. For instance, Amy is the only person in my life who consistently challenges me to write. Not only does she encourage me, but she is a writer herself and sometimes only writers can truly understand other writers. I have been a writer, in one shape or form, for almost my entire life. It is who I am, my essence. And writers are quite different creatures. It really takes one to know one, so to speak. Amy understands that and has urged me to embrace that side of myself, even when it has been terrifying and difficult. Writing is one of the great loves of my life. She not only realizes this, but shares my passion for writing and great books (not to mention great wine)!
Having Amy for a best friend has challenged me to give more of myself, too. It has been good for me to have a best friend that forces me to give in ways in which I know can never be repaid. It has also been especially good for my three children to consistently be around Amy. They have no fear or discomfort around Amy's wheelchair or her as a person. She has said to me that most children feel uncomfortable around her and her with them, but she feels at ease with my children. She feels loved by them. That is a great gift to me and my children. I know it is also a blessing to Amy as being in a wheelchair has caused her self-esteem to be challenged at every turn.
Even so, the reality is that Amy is more capable and alive than most people I know. I have to smile when I think about how, years ago, she shared her personal email address with me. It was something like amyable@aol.com. She explained to me that she did not see herself as disabled, as some people referred to her, but able to accomplish great things. That has always stuck with me. And it is so true of her life. She does not allow her handicap to dampen her faith, nor does she allow it to stand in the way of living her dream. Amy travels. She dances. She has more friends than I can count. Amy lives life.
People SEE Amy. They look at her with admiration and they see her joyful countenance. They look at her in a way that makes me envious. People also laugh with Amy. She is a free-spirit, quick-witted, and spontaneous. If the truth be told, I wish I were more like her. She is genuine, unique, and transparent. If I were a person in a wheelchair, being around Amy would give me hope and encouragement. Even as a person who does not have that particular challenge, but many others, she offers me peace, joy, and profound contentment.
Does she sometimes imagine a world in which she can walk? She does. She dreams of heaven, where she is no longer confined to a lifeless chair that says nothing about her personality or her heart. Does she sometimes give into bitterness? Yes. Does she wish she hadn't been in that car, long ago, when a drunk driver altered her five-year old life forever? Absolutely. She's human. But she lives her life with such grace, flair, and dignity that it's hard for me to remember she's in a wheelchair. When I do, it's only because I am the disabled one who can't figure out how to load and unload her wheelchair into the back seat of her car!
A few years ago, Amy treated me to a night on the town. We both needed it more than we realized. We talked, laughed, and stuffed ourselves for hours. On the way out of the restaurant, we were both giddy from our night together. As we exited the restaurant, I opened the door for her as she struggled to balance our leftovers on her lap AND maneuver her wheelchair. It all proved too much for her and our pricey leftovers went flying! There we stood, in the doorway of an upscale restaurant, laughing so hard other patrons much have thought we were drunk! We didn't care; the simple truth was that we were embracing life. In that moment, and in many moments like it, I am so thankful to God for giving me the gift of Amy. It is at these times that I see her simply as my friend. My best friend.
source:denver.yourhub.com