The Prayers You Didn't Know You Needed

It's been a rough week.  

First, Monday greeted me with some political-correct, snowflake, triggered horseshit at work. By Tuesday I found out that I was at least 1 course short of graduating with my Criminal Justice Minor. Finally, mid-week was capped off by some human splooge tossing a full Polar Pop 32oz beverage at me from his car window while I was running. 

Yes, it's true, I lead an exciting life. 

Luckily, in all these instances I have the certainty that I'll be okay. One of these scenarios I escaped completely unscathed as the Polar Pop cup missed me completely.   

While I am slightly worried about the issue with my Minor, I have confidence that it will be worked out one way or another.  

As far as the problem with work, miraculously I wasn’t a part of the issue referenced, so I appear to be "safe" from the administrative wrath. Of course, that being said, I plan to stand with my team in defiance of such ridiculousness.  

All this mess got me thinking: How many times have I been spared being the victim of some negative event?  

You might think this is overly deep thinking for a cynic such as myself. It may surprise you to know that I actually am fairly spiritual. I don't mean "spiritual" in the current vernacular of rubbing crystals, shopping at Whole Foods and refusing to wear deodorant (not that there's anything wrong with that).  

What I mean by spiritual is I pray to God, but I am far from religious. In fact, I think religion is the worst thing to happen to faith in the history of humankind.  

After that Circle K Polar Pop cup missed me, I prayed. I thanked God for that cup missing me as I thought about what might've been inside it, what the person that threw it might have been thinking.  

This then brought further self-reflection: How many times have I been spared being the victim of some negative event that I wasn’t even aware of?  

Was I almost the victim of a robbery but the would-be perpetrator lost their nerve? Was I nearly killed in a traffic accident but the driver that caused it returned home because they forget something?  

The possibilities are endless and they really make you think. They also make you pray a thankful prayer.  

Quality of Life

Introduction

I am currently enrolled in an ethics class. Within this class, which is online, we get to have "discussions" with classmates about topics presented from the textbook, or other related items of note.

What is shown below is my response to another student (who is a mother) that was advocating the aborting of a child if a disability had been diagnosed during pregnancy. Her point of view centered around how the "disabled" baby might not have an appropriate quality of life, and if the disability was too severe, the right decision would be to abort.

Gee I wonder which side of the argument I might be on, let's see...

Good day Moron,

            If I may let me add some perspective to your words around the abortion of a fetus marked with a “disability”.

            To begin, I agree with you the term “disability” can have a spectrum of meaning. Personally, I hate to harp on words, but I will say I despise the term. I like “differently abled” (and I realize how ridiculously liberal and PC that may sound, but hear me out). As someone with cerebral palsy on my right side I have personal experience with what it means to have a “disability”. In reality, because my CP predominately affects my right hand, I can do most anything any person can do, I just may have to perform the task differently or it may take longer. This does not impact my quality of life. In much the same way this applies to many people with “disabilities”, those individuals simply need to approach a task or problem in an alternative way in order to accomplish things. For instance, I would have you Google “Jim Abbott” – he was a Major League Baseball player born without a right arm. Merely watch a video of him pitching a no hitter game and you will see what I mean more clearly.

            Which leads me to my next point: Much the same as the term “disability”, so too can the phrase “quality of life” take on a variety of meanings. Even those with what onlookers might call “severe disabilities” can in fact be happy, content and enjoy life. Case in point; my work in a group home for the Division of Developmental Disabilities showed me that a fourteen year old boy who was blind, had cerebral palsy, was autistic and even confined to a wheelchair can enjoy life. How do I know this? Because I saw the way his face would light up when he heard music. By the way; B.B. King was one of his favorites.

            Doctors are fallible; likewise mothers and fathers are just as prone to off judgment, misinformation and mistakes. Who is to say what one’s threshold for quality of life should be in order that they may be allowed to exist? 

Photo credit: disabilitynow.org.uk