Why I Left the Church

Again, I don't how to start this post. Again, I have no hard feelings against anyone who chooses to walk away. That is my disclaimer. Growing up as a missionary kid in Japan, I was expected to go to church every Sunday (itchy dresses and all). I loved the community aspect of church. I was surrounded by adults, because most Japanese kids didn't go to church. It didn't matter much. We got to share our lives, and build each other up

When I got to America, I was saddened by what I saw. Churches were deeply divided by opinions and gossip. People acted no differently in the church than they did outside it. Church was not a community, it was a status symbol. Everything was governed by ritual, not by faith. I'm not saying there are no decent Christians; there are plenty. I'm not saying all churches are bad either. I'm just saying that the mainstream approach to the Christian faith for the majority of people gave me culture shock. I didn't like that feeling.

For the next few years, I scrambled to find a place where I fit. I was a Sparks Leader for three years. I thoroughly enjoyed working with the kids, but that didn't help me much. I was consistently being given unspoken cues that I didn't dress right, eat right, and my opinions didn't matter. Most of the times the people who were giving me these cues didn't know they were doing it. And I didn't speak up. So perhaps it was partly my fault. Whatever happened, it made me question my faith and withdraw even more.

Then, a miracle happened. I found community with a group of differently-abled kids who I loved. I didn't have to work hard to be their friend. They accepted me completely and wholly. Of course I did not tell them everything, and maybe I should have. But everything changed when the accessible van started to break down. My Sunday School teacher looked at me and said, “You're too heavy for me to put in to my car.” My heart broke and a knife went through me. I was a burden, and that was my last attempt at going to church. I was done.

Since then, it's been a journey to find healing. I'm not going to go into my religious beliefs here now because I believe that is the one thing that is most sacred and personal. But I will say that I am a more tolerant, open-minded person. I celebrate Channukah with with my Jewish friends and Ramadan and Eid with my Muslim ones. And I'm finally at peace.

Transportation

Today, I was supposed to go to the Dr.
Usually when I have an appointment, I have to schedule
five days in advance in order to make it on time.
They give me an hour window in which I can be picked up.
Today, I had to wait an hour and a half, and when I called them
to see where transportation was, they told me that I would
not be picked up for another thirty minutes.
Having unreliable transportation is frustrating.
I agree with Brittney.
How are we supposed to live our lives if
we cannot get where we need to go?
One day, I will use transportation to get to work.
If I am not able to rely on transportation, then
what am I supposed to rely on.
Accessibility is about the availability of resources to me.
Transportation is not accessible.

Spread the Word to End the Word

Hi Guys,
I'm making a special blog post for today, which is a nationally recognized day to spread awareness about ending the "R word". I have one adorable yet feisty reason to make this post.

                                         Not the "R Word" but the "ARRR" word


This is Isaac.
12 years ago, I was blessed with a little brother, who happens to have
Down's syndrome.

He's been my bosom buddy since he was born.
He may not be able to speak in complete sentences,
but he can communicate better than most adults.

Despite his good communication skills,
he's been bullied by other kids who are younger than him
He does not seem to recognize the bullying, and he just ignores it.
As his sister, and as someone else who has been bullied, it bothers me.

I want to protect him
I want to have a world for him to grow up in that accepts his disability, and
I feel as though that responsibility falls on my shoulders.

Most people are smart enough now a days to not use the R Word to someone's face,
but some people still use it to describe people who have disabilities.
For instance,  I was interviewing someone for an aide position when I asked
them about their experience. working with people who have disabilities.
The person referred to her relative by using the "R word".
I asked her three times what disability her relative had, and each time, she replied with the same response.
I think that the problem goes deeper then just hurting peoople with the R Word.
People often use that word to describe something that is stupid.

Not only becuase of personal connection to the word, but also because of my personal feelings having to do with my brother, the "R word" is banned in my house

If anyone were to ever use that word to describe my brother, they
would probably lose their ankles.
I'm not kidding, I just got a new pair of wheels.




A Little About the "RWord" petition:

Our campaign is pretty simple. We are asking you to stop using the R-word because it hurt people when you do. What else is there to understand? Take the pledge at www.r-word.org

Ordination and Other Adventures

I want to tell you a story about going to one of my friend's ordinations.
I went to his church, which was supposedly accessible,
but the people that were there did not know where the ramp was,
so they told me to go up a 6 inch ledge to get into the church, which could lead to a problem.
Luckily, my chair has good suspension on it. I had to take an elevator, which was approximatly
the size of a closet up to the sanctuary. I was surprised that it was not an old crank elevator.

                                    Maybe I am exagerating just a little, but this is what it felt like, and I am not even
                                                                             standing, thankfully.
 



The little boy that was told to help me find the sanctuary after I got off the elevator pointed his
finger at me as if I were in a creepy horror movie. It was a teaching experience for one little boy who kept asking me why I was in a wheelchair and if my legs were broken. My friend told him that he should ask me what my name was instead, and after that, the little boy got quiet and didn't say anything else. I wish that the little boy had not felt bad about asking questions.

                           A recreation of the little boys finger. Please note: This is my index finger, not                                                                                                     my middle finger.


The good thing about this trip was that the people were nice
and they were very willing to learn from my experience.











By the way, the ramp ended up being in a creepy dark basement,
but at least I did not have to go off a 6 inch ledge.

                                           At least there was no ramp like this. THIS is NOT a RAMP!