Wheelchairs and Books by Emily Owen

Yesterday, I had the privilege of being part of a special day. The church was celebrating its 60^th anniversary, and was holding an exhibition of memories. I was asked to produce a display. Displays are not really my forte, but this one had two very specific things they wanted me to include:

My wheelchair

My books

Both things I have, so could easily display:

But why those specific things?

Because my wheelchair journey and my book journey both began when I attended that church.

It was that church who prayed for me after surgery left me paralysed from the waist down.

It was that church who watched me struggle to learn to walk again.

It was that church who were alongside me when I finally accepted that I needed a wheelchair.

In the hard times, they were there.

It was that church who celebrated my first book with me.

In the joy-full times, they were there.

I’m reminded of Psalm 139: 9&10:

If I rise on the wings of the dawn,

If my writing is going brilliantly, and I leap out of bed eager to pen more words, and when I write I feel as though I’m riding a wave of beautiful prose/poetry, and phrases soar effortlessly from my keyboard, and my manuscript fills me with joy, and I never think it’s rubbish

if I settle on the far side of the sea,

If my writing journey seems a long way from where I’d like it to be, and I can’t seem to get out of the rut I’m in, and I’m wondering about giving up, and I think my writing is rubbish, and I’m moving away and settling there

 even there your hand will guide me,

God is journeying with me. He knows the way. He’s here. In the hard times and in the joy-full times.

your right hand will hold me fast.

God has got me safe.

Yesterday, I was not asked to provide artwork. I was not asked to build a model railway.

I was not asked to bring things I can’t bring.

Just as God doesn’t ask us to bring things we can’t bring.

‘Emily, will you bring your wheelchair and books?’

I was asked to bring my books, yes, but they played second fiddle (sorry, books).

My wheelchair was the star attraction.

The chair that shows my weakness.

And my books were in its shadow.

Bring your weakness.

Each time he said, “My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.” So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me.

2 Corinthians 12:9

May we, whether ‘rising’ or ‘settling’ in our writing, know that our weakness is more than met by His strength.