Ableism: Jokes that aren't Funny

I’ve been a full‑time wheelchair user for six years. Before that, I walked with a stick, stubbornly and painfully, until the ground became a threat rather than a surface. It was a difficult decision. I reached a point where I couldn't avoid it any longer. I’ve written about that journey before: the grief of slowly losing mobility, the reluctant acceptance of using a chair, the fall that forced me to swallow my pride, and the reality of living with FSHD. Those posts explore the physical decline, emotional adjustments, and journey of independence that looks different than I imagined. Many in my position are forced to make that change. It’s not easy, but at some point it’s needed.

I’ve adjusted well. My powerchair is freedom. I travel everywhere. I love the independence, going by trains, and not worrying about falling. My chair is my body; my stability, safety, and autonomy.

However, there’s a part of being a wheelchair user that I never expected, and it’s worn me down: the jokes, especially the ones that aren't funny.

A Lent Study: Week 3 - Wilderness

“The Lord your God led you these forty years in the wilderness… to humble you and test you, to know what was in your heart.” (Deuteronomy 8:2)

“At once the Spirit sent him out into the wilderness, and he was in the wilderness forty days, being tempted by Satan. He was with the wild animals, and angels attended him.” (Mark 1:12–13)

The Hebrew word midbar means wilderness — a harsh place that evokes images of emptiness, dryness, disorientation, and exposure. Yet in Scripture, the wilderness is rarely like this. It is a place of formation and covenant renewal, where God meets His people without distraction or illusion. Midbar does not simply mean desert; it's a place beyond control — where life is stripped back and where God speaks with clarity. It is where Israel learns who they are, who God is, and what it means to belong to Him.

A Lent Study: Week 2 - Repent

"Return to me, says the Lord, and I will return to you.” (Malachi 3:7)

Repent is a word that often arrives with baggage. For many, it sounds like guilt, shame, or religious pressure. But in Scripture, the word is far gentler, far deeper, and far more hopeful than the versions we’ve inherited. In the Old Testament, the primary word is shuv — to turn back, to return, to come home. It is the language of movement, not punishment. When the prophets cry out, “Return to the Lord” (Joel 2:13), they are not demanding grovelling; they are inviting restoration. They are calling Israel back to the relationship they were made for.