Joni

by Joni Eareckson Tada

  I felt the sting of hurt as I received the news that Donald had fallen in love with another woman. But the Lord seemed to say, “What is that to me?”

  I wrote to Steve, away at Bible college, and poured out my heart. He wrote back and assured me of his concern and prayers. His letter closed with a promise from Psalm 40: “His truth and lovingkindness shall continually preserve me”—that whatever the hurt involved in this learning process, God always deals with us in love. This and other passages sustained me through this difficult period.

  It was hard for me to accept the fact that Donald was not God’s will, God’s best for me. “But, Lord, if not Donald, I believe You have someone or something better for me. I will trust You to bring it into my life.” I recalled hearing a preacher say God never closes a door without opening a window—He always gives us something better when He takes something away.

  I took this promise at face value. It’s obvious, looking back, that God did know best. I had read into circumstances, Scripture, and everything else all the right “meaning” to make Donald a part of my life. It was easy to say “God wants us happy, doesn’t He?” and then bend verses to fit my purposes. I suppose I knew all along it wasn’t going to work, but I pursued the idea that it was God’s will that Donald build his life around me.

  After my accident, I had clung to Dick, then Jay, Diana, and until now, Donald. I needed their love and support to satisfy my emotional needs. Now, however, I felt free. It was as if I had finally gained emotional independence through complete dependence on God. One day, while sitting outside in my wheelchair, I was quietly reflecting over these thoughts. Lord, I prayed, I wish I could have seen this earlier—I wish I’d have remembered that Your grace is sufficient for me. As I sat there on the quiet wooded lawn, verse after verse came to mind to comfort me. Please, Lord, make Yourself real to me just now.

  Peace of mind and inner joy flooded my mind and soul. Then I looked up. Almost as a symbol of God’s love and reassurance, a butterfly from high among the trees fluttered within inches of me. It was both startling and beautiful.

  “Lord, thank You for Your goodness. Sending that butterfly at precisely this instant was a creative, subtle way of testifying to Your quiet and understated presence.” I promised myself to think of God’s goodness every time I saw a butterfly.

  I reflected over this most unusual and difficult summer during long outdoor retreats with the Lord. I sought to be outside and meditate on His purposes, so to occupy myself during these times, I devoted all my time and energy to my art. I found a renewed interest in drawing. And it seemed my art was getting better. There was a quality that hadn’t been there before. I didn’t know what it was, but others noticed the difference too.

  It was a slow transition, but not as difficult as I had expected. I saw Donald in a new light, with greater understanding. He had done what was right and best, even if it hurt us both, for I know now that it hurt him as much as it hurt me.

  We were both blind to the serious consequences of what such a relationship would mean. When we’re in love, our love takes expression in actions. If there is nowhere to go, in reality, then wishful thinking and fantasy convince us that “everything will work out.” People warn us, but we choose not to believe them.

  Many young people ignore reality. They know something is wrong, that a relationship won’t work, but they go ahead anyway, as we would have done, convinced by wishful thinking.

  I look back now and thank God for our relationship. There are so many things I never would have learned if Donald had not come into my life and left me, and so I thank the Lord for this experience. I’m especially grateful God helped me deal with our separation without lingering feelings of bitterness or despair.

  I even accepted Donald’s new love with honest joy that he too had at last found God’s perfect will for his life. At a Bible study one evening, a friend came up to me. Hesitantly, he said, “Uh—Joni, I want to tell you something before you hear it from someone else.”

  “Jimmy, you don’t have to say anything more. I know.”

  “You do? You’ve already heard that Donald is engaged? How?”

  “I don’t know,” I smiled. “I guess I just knew it, that’s all.”

  I was shocked at how easily God helped me meet what should have been a hurtful, difficult meeting. And when Donald brought Sandy, a beautiful, young widow who had lost her husband in an accident, to Bible study three weeks later, we were seated next to one another.

  She knew about me. In any other situation, this would have been awkward, to say the least. But I turned to her, a tall, lovely woman whose dark features complemented Donald’s own good looks, and said, “Sandy, I’m really glad to meet you. I want you to know how genuinely happy I am for you and Donald.”

  She smiled and said thank you.

  I told her, “I pray for you both every night. I praise God for what He’s done in all three of our lives. I’m really excited about you both—especially your willingness to serve Christ.” And I meant every word.

  Friends and family members who knew how deeply Donald and I had cared for one another were amazed at my attitude. They had expected me to fall apart. And I probably would have gone to pieces if I had not allowed God to handle the situation.

  I really began to see suffering in a new light—not as trials to avoid, but as opportunities to “grab,” because God gives so much of His love, grace, and goodness to those who do.

  My life changed more during the last half of 1972 than any other period of my life—even my previous five years in the chair.

  When Donald walked out of my life, there was no one in whom I could put my trust—except God. And since the Lord had always proved Himself faithful before, I trusted Him now.

  CHAPTER 15

  During the fall of 1972, I began to ask serious questions about my future. “Lord,” I asked, “if not college, if not Donald, then what? What do You have for me?”

  I believed that if God took something away from me, He would always replace it with something better. My experience had taught me this as I relied on the sovereignty of God. “Delight thyself in God,” the psalmist said, “trust in His way.” As I did so, it became easier to express true gratitude for what He brought into my life—good as well as suffering.

  The suffering and pain of the past few years had been the ingredients that had helped me mature emotionally, mentally, and spiritually. I felt confident and independent, trusting in the Lord for my physical and emotional needs.

  Pain and suffering have purpose. We don’t always see this clearly. The apostle Paul suffered for Christ. His experience included imprisonment, beatings, stonings, shipwreck, and some physical “thorn in the flesh.” The blessing of suffering is, as J. B. Phillips interprets Romans 5:3-5, “we can be full of joy here and now even in our trials and troubles. Taken in the right spirit, these very things will give us patient endurance; this in turn will develop a mature character, and a character of this sort produces a steady hope, a hope that will never disappoint us.”

  I believed He was working in my life to create grace and wisdom out of the chaos of pain and depression.

  Now all these experiences began to find visible expression in my art. At first, I drew for fun; then, to occupy my time; finally, to express my feelings for what God was doing in me. I sensed, somehow, that my artwork fit into the scheme of things. Perhaps it would be the “something better.”

  But the last thing I wanted was for people to admire my drawings simply because they were drawn by someone in a wheelchair holding a pen in her mouth. I wanted my work to be good in itself—in creativity and craftsmanship. That’s why I was both pleased and proud at having my work displayed in a local art festival—for its own sake, and not because of my handicap.

  For the first time, I threw myself fully into my artwork. I sketched pictures of things that had beauty rather than things that expressed emotions or hurts I’d experienced. It was a positive collection, with hope reflected in the drawings of ani
mals, scenes, and people. As a result, people accepted them. They were attracted to my sketches of youngsters, mountains, flowers, and forest animals because of the common beauty such subjects expressed.

  I honestly felt God had brought me to this place and had even greater blessings in store. I never would have believed this a year or two earlier, but I had now come to the place where the “something better” was in being single. I read in 1 Corinthians 6 and 7 that there could be a calling higher than marriage for some. A single woman could devote herself to being holy with fewer distractions if she had no husband, family, or house to care for, and I was free from a house-oriented routine. True, I did not have the pleasures and privileges that go with such a role, but God had substituted other joys, and I was more than fulfilled. I had my own freedom to come and go without having to maintain a schedule involving others. I could travel, keep late work hours, read, talk, or whatever I chose. It was a great freedom.

  People often said to me, “You had no choice about being single. That’s why you can accept that role more easily than I can. That’s why you can be joyful. But I am lonely, frustrated, and unfulfilled.”

  “I’m not sure it’s easier for me,” I told them. “Every person who is faced with the prospect of singlehood should trust God’s wisdom. Because I did not trust Him for my own life but sought to engineer His will in my relationship with Donald, I was also frustrated. But when I had no choice but acceptance, trust, and surrender, this did become easy for me. If we accept this handicap from God, we are freed from the constant agony and anxiety of wondering, worrying, and desperate searching. Not knowing the future and worrying about it causes most of our bitterness and grief.”

  “You mean I should give up hoping to be married at all?” a girl asked me once.

  “I’m saying that acceptance of the role of being single ends the frustration of not knowing,” I replied. “But that’s the hardest part. Surrender to the idea of being forever single, with all the sacrifices that implies, is the most difficult. But once acceptance is made, living with that role is easier.”

  “That sounds like just giving up,” she observed.

  “Maybe it is. This is not to say God will never allow us to marry someday. Maybe He will; maybe He won’t. What I’m saying is that it doesn’t matter because we leave the choice and decision with Him. We trust His judgment that ‘all things work together for our good’ if we love God.”

  “But I feel I have needs to be fulfilled—that I have a right to be married!”

  “Only God is capable of telling us what our rights and needs are. You have to surrender that right to Him. Begin your life as a single person, working and living according to the priorities of serving and glorifying Him. In turn, God gives a rich and satisfying life. In place of one partner, He brings many friends into our lives to meet our emotional needs and loneliness.”

  “That’s what you’ve experienced, Joni?”

  “Yes. And it gets better. Maybe God will give you back that right to be married after you surrender it completely. He may bring someone into your life after all. But holding tightly onto that hope and thinking constantly about the possibility of it happening is terribly frustrating.”

  Young people listened respectfully when I shared these concepts with them. But I could always see the reservation and holding back in their eyes. It was difficult for them to comprehend how a handicap of being single could be better than the joys of marriage.

  “Scripture says,” I reminded them, “in 1 Corinthians, ‘Eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, neither have entered into the heart of men, the things which God hath prepared for them that love him.’ The apostle was comparing the natural man with the spiritual man in this passage, but I also think it could apply to us concerning our future.”

  “What do you mean?” a girl asked me one day.

  “Well, we think of the greatest experiences of love, tenderness, and feelings we might have with a guy—all the beautiful things that have entered into the heart, mind, eye, and ear. God is saying These are nothing compared to what lies ahead. I still don’t know what this means. But I’ve found that God never places any real emphasis on the present—except as preparation for the future. We only have a limited sense of reality. This doesn’t mean I’m preoccupied with heaven and the hereafter. It just helps me put things into perspective.”

  “But don’t you think that’s true for you because you’re in a wheelchair?” someone usually asked.

  “No, I don’t think so. This is a universal truth. A lot of people who aren’t in wheelchairs still have to deal with being single, just as I do. It can be a source of constant irritation and frustration, or it can be a joy.”

  “You mean you believe you’ll never marry?”

  “No. I have no feeling one way or the other. I’m not sure that I will never marry. Or that I will. I’m content, whether I marry or not.”

  “Well, what about those of us who haven’t come to that place where we can accept that role as easily as you?”

  “If you’re single, with no plans or prospects, just live as though God will have you remain single until He brings someone or something better into your life.”

  “Sort of like that verse you quoted—‘eye hath not seen, nor ear heard,’ right?” someone asked.

  “Yes. Sometimes I recall experiences of feeling—of running through grassy fields, swimming in a cool, clear stream, climbing up a rugged mountain, smelling flowers, riding a horse—all the sensations I’d have on my feet. But God says all of this together can’t compare with the glory and future reality He has prepared for me. It’s as I said before—the future is the only reality that counts. The only thing we can take to heaven with us is our character. Our character is all we have to determine what kind of a being we will be for all eternity. It’s what we are that will be tested by fire. Only the qualities of Christ in our character will remain.”

  I was grateful for these opportunities to explain how God was working in my life. I began to see a mature purpose in all His dealings with me, and I was happier than I had ever been. My experiences charged me with creative energy and a maturity I didn’t have before, and my art had a new quality and professionalism.

  I experimented with various papers, pens, pencils, and charcoal. I tried different approaches and techniques, finally settling on the elements that seemed to work best. Using a sharp, felt-tip Flair pen, I sketched with precision and control. I gave drawings to friends as wedding presents and Christmas gifts. This demand for my art kept me fairly busy. However, I had still not found an outlet for my drawings that would enable me to derive income from them and become gainfully employed—and more independent.

  Then one day an insurance executive called on my father at his downtown office. Neill Miller is an energetic, good-natured, successful Christian businessman. He is Senior Field Underwriter for the Aetna Life and Casualty Company, as well as being actively involved with several Baltimore charity drives. Neill Miller sees opportunities where other people see obstacles. Through his efforts, national celebrities have become interested in the causes he represents and have volunteered their services and talents.

  During his visit with dad, Mr. Miller noticed one of my drawings on the wall of the office.

  “I really like that drawing, Mr. Eareckson. Is it an original?” he asked.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, my daughter drew it,” dad replied.

  “Really? She’s quite an artist. It has a great deal of character as well as realistic detail. She has an original style—it shows unusual discipline,” observed Mr. Miller.

  “Thank you. I’ll tell her.” Then dad said, “You might be interested to know that Joni—that’s my daughter—is paralyzed. She has to draw holding the pen in her mouth.”

  “That’s even more remarkable!” Mr. Miller stood up and examined the drawing more closely. “Amazing. Absolutely amazing.”

  “She’s never had any formal training,” dad explained. “I’ve dabbled in art most of my life, and I su
ppose she’s inherited my interest in art. But her talent and style are her own.”

  “Has she exhibited her art?” Mr. Miller asked.

  “No, not really—just at a couple festivals. She does it for fun. She draws for friends and family mostly.”

  “Well, we can’t let such talent go unnoticed,” exclaimed Mr. Miller. “Do you think she’d object if I arranged a small art exhibit for her?”

  “Why, I’m sure she’d be delighted.”

  “Fine! Let me see what I can do. I’ll be in touch.”

  Mr. Miller telephoned dad later to say that he had arranged for a small exhibition at a local restaurant. Dad took all the original drawings I’d been working on for the past several months to the Town and Country Restaurant in the center of downtown Baltimore. The Town and Country is a popular, prestigious gathering place for local businessmen and important political figures.

  I expected a small, informal gathering of people to look at my drawings, chat, and go on their way, as that was the pattern I’d observed at several other art exhibits with other artists. I secretly hoped I might even be able to sell one or two drawings.

  Jay, Diana, and I drove downtown the morning of the exhibit. We had been told to arrive at ten o’clock. As Jay turned onto South Street toward the restaurant, we found the avenue blocked off.

  “That’s strange,” I remarked. “They’re not working on the road or anything. Why would they block off a main street like this?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll turn down this side street and cut over,” said Jay.

  “Wait. You can’t get through there either. There’s a policeman directing traffic.”

  “It must be something for the Chamber of Commerce,” remarked Diana.

  “Yeah. Maybe a Lincoln’s birthday parade or something,” added Jay.

  “It must be a parade—look,” I exclaimed.

  “A big brass band. How exciting. Too bad we’re going to the exhibit. We could watch it,” Jay smiled.