Make Your Move

In the eleven years that followed my auto accident there wasn’t one where I didn’t spend at least two full months in the hospital. During the most intense of those years it was even worse. I would go into the hospital for whatever procedure and stay in until my body simply couldn’t take it anymore, when they would release me and allow me to stay out until my body was well enough to go back in.

For the most part this meant three months in followed by three months in the hospital repeated over and over again. In the midst of one of these multi-month stays, I had understandably gotten a bad case of cabin fever. I was so tired of being in the hospital I had to find a way out.

During this stay, like many of the others, while I was healing the doctors and therapists wanted me up in my chair as much as possible. Anyone who’s spent any real time in the hospital knows that as soon as they can they get you up and going. However, because of my health I couldn’t go far. Therefore, they would sit me up in my chair wrap three of their large blankets around my body (one around my torso, one around my midsection, and one around my feet), slide my Discman in the back of my chair with my headphones on my head so I had something to listen to, and allow me to cruise around the hospital in my wheelchair.

In those months I explored every inch of the hospital. From geriatrics to genetics, from examination to x-ray, and from the lab to the lounge I knew that hospital like the back of my hand. It got to the point where I spent so much time investigating the hospital and out of my room that the nurses didn’t think twice if I was gone for hours on end.

The day finally came when I had had enough. I couldn’t spend another day in the cafeteria, on the helipad overlooking the community, or in any other department of the hospital–I had to get out.

Knowing that I had at least three hours before someone would come looking I began to formulate a plan.

During that time I spent a lot of energy collecting comic books. The comics themselves were light enough that I could hold them in bed, and collecting them gave me something to pursue. Knowing that the new comics had just come in I knew that the comic store was going to be my destination.

Picking this destination made things a little tricky. The comic book store was nearly three miles away. In my chair that would just barely give me enough time to make it there and back before the nurses noticed.

That morning just like every other morning, the nurses got me up, wrapped me in the three blankets and loaded up my Discman. That morning just like every other morning, I headed off the floor telling the nurses I would be back in a while. However, unlike any other morning I made my way to the lobby.

As I came off the elevators I could see the doors leading out of the hospital. Unfortunately, I also saw the security guard who stood in the lobby to make sure that nobody came in who didn’t look like they belonged and that nobody went out that didn’t look like they had permission.

Obviously being in a wheelchair wearing nothing more than three blankets, what was generously deemed a hospital gown, and a pair of headphones, I was a little conspicuous. Sneaking out while the guard was watching wasn’t exactly an option. So I sat there in the corner of the lobby waiting for my moment.

That day when the nurses were getting me ready I had them put a Cd by the band Sugar Ray into my Discman. I sat in the lobby listening to different songs while I waited for the security guard to get distracted hopefully long enough for me to make my move.

Then it happened; he turned to talk to a colleague and I knew this was my time. Slowly, nonchalantly, I made my way to the automatic double doors that separated me from freedom.

Just as I passed through the first set of automatic doors listening to Sugar Ray’s song  “Falls Apart” from their album 14:59  I heard their lyric run through my head as they sang, “Runaway, Runaway.” I thought, “This is a sign, I’m going to make it. I’m actually going to make it. Then again, the refrain, “Runaway, Runaway” as I passed through the final automatic doors.

There comes a time when you’ve been in the hospital long enough and you don’t care what anyone else thinks. This time had obviously come for me, because all I cared about was the fact that I was out. All I had between my birthday suit and the rest of the world were three hospital blankets, but I was out.  Free at last, I began to make my way to the comic book store.

It was a precarious journey. Unlike many places in the United States many areas in the Northeast don’t have sidewalks lining every street. As I made my way through Norwalk, Connecticut I had to pick my route carefully. Sometimes the sidewalk was only on one side of the street, sometimes I would have to change the street I was on to find the sidewalk at all, and sometimes I had to make my way on the street with the cars.

Somewhere along the journey the hospital blanket that covered my legs came a little loose and got caught under my front wheel. Before I knew it I was down one hospital blanket. This was little disconcerting. Were I to lose another hospital blanket there would be few secrets left between me and the people of Norwalk.

But, I made it. I got to the comic book store, made my purchase (while the clerk gave me the oddest look), and made my way successfully back to the hospital. I reached my room in time minus one blanket, carrying a bag of comics on the back of my chair.

This was a huge success for me. I’d gotten out into the real world and procured my comics as well. This not only made my day, but my whole week.

I had so many opportunities to turn back, so many chances to give up. But like life, if we are to succeed there comes a time when we have to make our move. I’m sure there are people who saw me driving partially clothed on the road who thought I was crazy. That’s okay, sometimes success means being a little crazy. I’m sure the nurses thought it was unsafe. That’s okay, often success means breaking predetermined rules.

However no matter how willing I was to be a little crazy and little unsafe the magic moment came when I sat in the lobby. Right then I had to decide, right then I had to move forward or give up. Making my move made all the difference.

Each of us has times when we have the opportunity to make our move and succeed, or let fear win the day and fail. So, set your goals and pursue them for all you’re worth, and when those times come and you find yourself separated from your dreams by a security guard and a pair of automatic doors remember the wise words of Sugar Ray, “Runaway, Runaway” and make your move.

Jh-

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Move Your Feet

When I started playing Little League football all I wanted to be was the quarterback. My favorite professional team with the Dallas Cowboys and I wanted to be just like Roger Staubach. On one of our first days of practice we each got to go and pick out our number from a pile of jerseys. With dreams of playing like my hero I picked out #12.

Our first season together the coaches felt I made an excellent quarterback. I was bright and it was easy for me to memorize all the plays. We were only in the fourth grade and so we didn’t pass much. In fact, the only pass we had in our playbook was a halfback pass where I would pitch the ball to the halfback and he would pass the ball down the field.

Things worked out great. I knew exactly where every hole was in the line and exactly which back I was supposed to hand the ball to on which play.

The following year teams began to pass. It was at this time when the coaches found they had a small problem with their starting quarterback. I couldn’t throw a ball to save my life. It wasn’t long after this realization that I was moved from standing behind the center as quarterback to kneeling in a four-point stance in front of the center on the defensive line–still wearing #12.

I spent the remainder of my football career on either the defensive or offensive side of the line. During all the time I spent “in the trenches” there were a few basic principles that were drilled into my head from every coach I ever had. One of those principles was to never ever stop moving your feet. Regardless of what level of football a person might ever reach one principle will remain true. The last person moving their feet will win out.

Nearly every day of practice is filled with some sort of drill to remind you to keep moving or “chopping” your feet. When I hit the dummies my coach would yell at me to move my feet. When I hit my teammates my coach would yell at me to move my feet. When I was running in place my coach would yell at me to move my feet. He wanted to make sure I knew the importance of moving my feet.

Moving your feet allows you to be prepared to “tackle” any problem you might on the field. Just like football, when we keep moving forward we stay prepared to take on the problems that face us everyday.

As I travel through my life and tell my story I often have people come up and ask me how I’ve made it through such difficulty in my life and if I have any tips for them. When they do I often think back to the words of my football coach, “Move Your Feet.”

If there is one secret or one key that I feel has helped me to succeed through some difficulty it is the idea of continually moving forward. When we “Move Our Feet” we leave little time to wallow in self-pity or become stagnant in self-doubt. Moving our feet keeps us going forward achieving new things and accomplishing new goals. I would ascribe the majority of the success I’ve had in my life to simply moving forward by “Moving My Feet.”

I have never found any benefit in my life in looking back and wishing things were different. It’s not that I don’t sometimes wish that my circumstance was different, it’s that I have never found any real benefit in spending time concentrating on that wish–for wishing won’t make it so.

I have however, found great benefit in moving forward and trying new things. Doing brings an incredible power that wishing never will. Doing keeps us moving while wishing keeps us still.

So when you’re hit with emotional difficulties, “Move Your Feet.” When you’re hit with physical difficulties, “Move Your Feet.” And if life is good and there’s little difficulty at all, “Move Your Feet.”

Jh-

Number 99

One Grateful Little Boy

In those first days in the hospital after breaking my neck my parents kept my spirits up by creating a list of my blessings and reading it to me every day. Some time after that on a day when I was feeling a little down I decided to pull out a piece of paper and write down 100 things I had to be grateful for.

I had no idea how difficult a task I had set before myself. The first 25 were easy. There were things like family and friends, a good home with good food. The second 25 took a little more energy and a little more thought. The third 25 made me really think. To complete my list the final 25 consisted of any little thing I could think of. I was thankful for ketchup, light bulbs, socks, etc. If I could see it it went down on my paper. Number 99 on that list was the fact that I could pick my nose.

There was a time in my life when I couldn’t pick my nose. When you have to ask someone to help you pick your nose you find out who your friends are. This is not something a lot of people want to talk about, but definitely something you’re grateful you can do when you need to.

I learned to be grateful for this small blessing from a great man who visited my home in my youth. We had been told a few months before that a man of some importance in my church named Robert Harbertson was going to come and stay with us for the weekend. My father went to pick him up at the airport and we all waited in our Sunday best for them to return.

We knew that he was important not only from his reputation, but from the fact that since the day we learned he was going to be in our home my mom began the etiquette lessons. All of a sudden we were eating our SpaghettiOs with three forks, a couple spoons and a cloth napkin.

Finally they arrived. As they got out of the car and walked up the steps to our front door every member of my family wondered what words of wisdom this great man would have to share with us. Robert Harbertson came in our home, looked at me, brandished his signature smile, and walked straight over to where I was sitting.

I couldn’t wait. I wondered what spiritual nugget or life lesson he would have to impart to me. He stood in front of me, looked me in the eye and said, “Jason, I want to see you pick your nose.”

Of all of the wisdom that I thought that he might impart, of all of the words that I would have guessed he might have used, asking me to pick my nose never entered my mind.   But, my parents had taught me to respect my elders and to do as they asked. So I attempted to pick my nose.

I will tell you—there is only one thing more embarrassing than picking your nose in front of someone you have a high regard for, and it is being unable to pick your nose in front of someone you have a high regard for.

He knew about my recent spinal cord injury and that at the time picking my nose would be a struggle for my weakened arms. He looked at me, smiled again and told me that the next time he saw me he wanted me to be able to pick my nose.

Not wanting to disappoint him I spent the following weeks and months working to pick my nose. This is something you do alone. This is not a tag team event, not something you want to get lot of people involved in. But nearly every day I worked to pick my nose. I would sit in my room by myself working to get my hand to my face to accomplish this goal. I wanted to make sure the next time he saw me that I had done what he asked.

Almost six months later, in Salt Lake City, I saw Robert Harbertson again.  The minute he saw me, he walked over to me, looked me in the eye, smiled that same smile, and said, “Jason, I want to see it.”  I will tell you this;  never before, and never again has a nose been picked with the vigor and excitement that was that day. I mean I really  picked my nose. I wanted to make sure that there was no question that I had completed my assignment as asked.

He laughed, and as he did I realized that he didn’t really care whether I could pick my nose, but he did care that I was working to improve the strength in my arms. Even still, every time I think of this experience with my friend Robert Harbertson I think about how grateful I am to pick my nose. I think about all the other “little things” that are a of my everyday life that I so easily forget to count as blessings.

Counting our blessings brings with it an amazing power. Gratitude for one blessing allows you to be grateful for others. Once I learned to be grateful that I could pick my nose my eyes were opened. and I was grateful that I could wash my face, brush my teeth, and feed myself.

Bringing this kind of gratitude into your life will chase away depression. For, there’s not enough room in the human heart for depression and gratitude at the same time. They are oil and water. They cannot exist in the same place at the same time. In fact, the one repels the other.

The wonderful thing about Thanksgiving is that it gives us each and opportunity to count our blessings–to chase the Depression from our lives. During this Thanksgiving I issue a each of you a challenge. Pull out a piece of paper (Kolette has a great one ready to download), number it as far as you like (at least to 10) and fill it with things you have to be grateful for. Then, take the time to share one of those things as a comment on this blog.

If we really get behind this idea, we will marvel at the things we find on our own lists, and have the ability to grow those lists as we see the comments others leave. If you read this post during this season, just take one moment and make note here of something you’re grateful for. It doesn’t have to be long and drawn out. It can be simply one word. But, if we will all do it then we will all be better for it. I’ll leave the first one, the fact that I can pick my nose.

The more comments that are left, the more thankful we will all be. If you don’t usually comment, do so–just this time. Encourage your spouse to leave a comment, ask your children to do so as well. Forward the post to a friend and invite them to put down what they are grateful for. Let’s grow this comment list as a Thanksgiving gift to ourselves.

For, I have learned that by writing down the things I am grateful for, I have a better chance of keeping the depression out, and the gratitude in.

Jh-

Stand Him Up and Let Him Go

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Nathan

When I was a young man my parents were dedicated to having our family have one evening every week that we would spend together. We could play games, go to movies, enjoy the park, learn dinner etiquette, or do anything else as long as we were together. For us, that night was Monday night. You can imagine then the struggle my parents had trying to come up with some new activity every week that would entertain five different children from the ages of six to sixteen.

One of the ways they put together activities that they knew we would like was to ask us for our suggestions. Often my dad would put the question to us just after dinner on Sunday. He set it up perfectly. He would ask us for an idea for the following night’s family activity and if we didn’t provide one, we didn’t get dessert. Now I don’t care if you’re six or sixteen everyone wants dessert.

I will never forget one such night during the year following my diving accident. My dad informed us that he was going to go around the table and ask us what we wanted to do the following evening. That night he decided to go from oldest to youngest. Being the oldest, he turned to me and asked for my input. I gave it to him and when I did my mom placed my dessert in front of me. I was excited about this.

My father then turned to my sister is just younger than I, asked her the same question, and with her response she too received her dessert. The pattern continued until my dad reached my youngest brother Nathan. Nate was just six and so probably didn’t get listened to as much as he should have been in the first place. Add to that the fact that we were all seriously dedicated to our desserts, the only people really paying attention to Nathan’s response were my parents.

My dad asked Nate, “What should we do for tomorrow night’s family activity?” Nathan looked at him with a surety that only a six-year-old can possess and replied, “I want to teach Jason how to walk.”

You’d think that a statement like that would get my attention. But I was focused on y food so my mom’s dessert kept my full attention. My mom and dad however, were listening to Nathan’s every word. “How are we going to do that?” my dad questioned. Completely and totally sure of himself Nathan replied, “We’ll stand him up, and let him go.”

This got my attention. My dessert couldn’t hold my interest any longer. I began to imagine my head getting the kitchen linoleum floor. Concerned I said, “Well Nathan, what if I fall?” To which he replied, “We’ll stand you up and do it again.”

By this point, the entire family was listening to Nathan’s idea for Monday night’s family activity. We all chuckled at the thought eventually decided on one of the other ideas and went to bed.

That night as I laid in bed I began to think about what Nathan had said.  I had been in a wheelchair for less than a year. You might only imagine the pleas, wishes, and prayers that were offered up by my family in hopes that my condition would be reversed. There was nothing that any member of my family wanted more than for me to walk.

Nathan however was tired of hoping and ready to act. He didn’t want to just wish anymore. He wanted to do. He wanted to actively pursue this grand desire.

We must follow Nathan’s example and act. Nathan believed that I could walk again. But he also knew (the way only a six-year-old could) that believing wouldn’t be enough. He had to act on his beliefs

When there are things that we want in our lives we have to do more than just wish them to be, for no matter how hard we try to wish things into our lives, wishing alone won’t make them so. We have to marry action to our hope. When we put hope and action together we get real power. This power enables us to make broad sweeping changes in our lives for the better.

Besides, who’s to say that, if that night I had had the courage and willingness to act that Nathan did, he wouldn’t have been right.

Jh-