This week, Rich Dixon starts telling us more of his story:
About 15 years ago, I was an about-to-retire math teacher in a wheelchair who enjoyed riding my handcycle.
My wise friend Dick Foth told me I had a story worth sharing. I took him seriously.
I discovered a love of writing, started a blog, published a book. I followed a crazy dream, cranked my bike 1500 miles along the Mississippi River. More bike tours, the FREEDOM TOUR, and 10 years supporting the kids at the Home of Hope.
And Jon’s generous offer to share this space.
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So – I’m just a guy sharing his story. Sometimes I forget I’m offering reflections, not prescriptions.
Ever happen to you? You come across what feels like an important insight, get excited about sharing your discovery, and suddenly you’re kinda preaching?
I share my story as passionately and transparently as possible. I hope my journey inspires others along the way – that’s the whole point.
It’s never about claiming I have it figured out. Still, it’s awfully easy to drift from reflection to prescription. So, what if we go back to telling the story?
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It’s a gray, early-winter day in 1987. I’m on a roof installing Christmas lights, and then I’m looking up at a paramedic who assures me everything will be okay.
It wasn’t okay. It was the beginning of a nightmare. The next hours brought a terrifying, disorienting diagnosis – spinal cord injury, paralyzed, permanent.
In the ICU, that awful day finally ended. As reality crashed around me, a nurse asked how she could help.
My whimpered response: “Let me die. Please, let me die.”
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God’s will? Horrible accident? After 35 years of reflection, I absolutely know:
In my front yard, as I struggled to breathe, unable to move, unaware of the freak 9-foot fall and its gruesome consequences, Jesus knelt beside me and wept.
To be continued…