A Sunday That Felt Like Coming Home

Some Sundays at church are work. Some are worship. This week was worship.

It’s not always easy to enjoy church when you serve there. There is always something to do, someone to speak to, and a task waiting. The Sunday before was like that. I had conversations before the service that were needed. The service itself was fine, but it didn’t uplift me. The sung worship was good and the band did well. The lead made me laugh with a story about her competitive childhood bear, which suited our teddy bears picnic theme.

Stories That Were Never Asked

My dad’s eighty‑sixth heavenly birthday was last Wednesday. I didn’t mark it. I didn’t post on Facebook, visit the crematorium, post here, or even tell the kids. The words never came. I spent the day and the days after remembering him quietly instead.

Independence vs Autonomy

Since college matured my writing, I’ve been revamping old blog posts, but it’s been hard seeing how my disability degeneration has stripped my independence.

Independence is important, but not as much as autonomy. Many able‑bodied people treat independence as the goal for disabled people and often misunderstand it in disability conversations. Autonomy, as control, choice, dignity, and the right to shape your own life, should be the real goal. 

What do disabled people mean by autonomy?