by Tamara Mitchell
In the Christian tradition, there is a long history of people finding God, not in moments of strength and clarity, but often in weakness and limitations. For those of us who identify as individuals with disabilities, you might feel as I do—that sometimes the world expects us to speed up and keep pace with what is perceived as socially acceptable. While the temptation for me is to fall in line and find ways to speed up, I often must remind myself, sometimes daily, how God would invite me to slow down. I would challenge you to ask yourself if perhaps this slowing down you are experiencing is a gift.
Learning to see my disability as an ability has not been an easy road. It has taken time and
practice to get to a place where I can see my disability as an invitation to live more contemplatively and to be more aware of God’s presence in my struggles. Life has a way of unfolding in unexpected ways; it has been a journey for me as I continue to learn and grow in my ability to live presently in who I am and how I have been made, listening for the rhythms of love that call me to a slower way of life. I would like to share a tiny glimpse into my journey. Perhaps you will begin to see the beauty in embracing the slower moments of life in whatever form they come.
I am an individual who has an intellectual disability, along with ADHD and dyslexia. I am a
single mom to three kids. I have experienced severe poverty and have fled on more than one
account due to domestic violence through the course of my life. For a greater part of my life, I felt that all kinds of people, professional and otherwise, have tried to put me in boxes based on these experiences. I allowed it for a long time and tried to pursue work and education that was “within my cognitive abilities.” This left me feeling small, really limited, and unhappy. As I pursued education via other institutions, I found that services for people who learned differently were difficult to access, and you had to jump through crazy hoops to do so. For a long time, I felt that not being able to readily access higher learning in academia has been an injustice to people with disabilities. You know … “You guys stay down there; that’s where you’re going to be most successful.”
Attending St. Stephen’s University has felt like that injustice has been reconciled for me and made right. Getting proper support was as easy as asking for a tutor; this has been pivotal in allowing me to learn alongside like-minded individuals. It turns out I can learn at a high level. I don’t need to shrink or lower my educational standards; I am smart and capable. I am thriving and doing so well. All I needed was proper support in my learning journey. I am so thankful for SSU—for making space for diverse learning styles and for making support easy and available to all. I recently graduated from the JFI certificate program, and I am now continuing to work toward my Master’s degree in the Peacebuilding, Public Theology, and Reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples program.
This summer I participated in the travel module to Ireland with other students from SSU. I have some physical injuries that sometimes cause me pain and limit my physical ability to do all the activities I would like to do. I often push myself, sometimes to an unhealthy level, where it takes me days to recover. After hobbling to put my dishes away after dinner one day, I slowly made my way back to my room to lick my wounds. On the way out, I noticed someone had followed me; it was Rachael Barham. She voiced that she saw me limping in the dining room. I felt so seen in that moment as she spoke gently to me. Rachael encouraged me to tune in to my body and to notice how I was feeling. What was my body saying? She told me to trust my body and to rest when it needs rest. She assured me that it was fine to sit certain things out if it meant my body would be cared for and that resting was no less important than partaking in every activity for fear of missing out.
So, over the course of the trip, I listened to my body. Sometimes this meant that when others went out sightseeing or to have a beer at a pub, I rested instead. At times when photos rolled in on WhatsApp or Instagram, and I noticed myself void from the pictures, I reminded myself that rest was just as important and was even a spiritual practice of surrender to the Jesus Way.
I could not walk as far or as fast on the pilgrimage; this meant that I got more quiet time with God and got to be a listening ear and support to those who were falling behind for whatever reason. Jesus often stayed back with those who were suffering—those who had for whatever reason fallen behind in the race of life. His way is a slower way, requiring careful, intentional steps. With one foot in front of the other, Jesus journeyed with me. In my disability, Jesus revealed his ability to show up and walk with me.
I have found in all the things that the world calls disabilities or hindrances, there lies a deep beauty…a reliance on God, a kind of forced, slow pace. In the slowness of my pace, I have learned to notice things in nature and people. On the pilgrimage, I reflected about how my learning disabilities sometimes slow me down; I must read carefully and sometimes read over and over to understand. However, in this struggle to navigate the world differently I have discovered that God meets me on the paper. Where sometimes I struggle audibly to express myself—on paper, I find things in my heart flow out. I can process information better when I can slow down, when I can take time to read and re- read and listen and write and erase and write again. God meets me in all these moments where my body slows me down. I find him, and he finds me.
Slowing down and yielding myself to authentically be who I am has become a way of deepening my awareness of God at work in my life. So maybe my disability is more of an ability, a sanctuary where things move slower…a place where my limitations become strengths… a sacred ground where God shapes me and speaks to me in ways that otherwise I may not have heard him in the busyness of life. God’s economy is different; what the world calls a disability, God sees as divine ability. God can take our disability and, in him, it becomes our ability.
Tamara Mitchell is a devoted mother of three, currently pursuing her Master’s degree in Peace, Justice, and Indigenous Reconciliation at St. Stephen’s University. With a heart for ministry, she has served at-risk young mothers, sharing in their journeys with compassion and care. Living with dyslexia, ADHD, and physical disabilities, Tamara has come to embrace the contemplative rhythms of life, finding Jesus in the moments that slow her down. Through this journey, she has come to experience the Divine in each person, recognizing that the kingdom of God is quietly alive and unfolding within us all.
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