In Brightest Day, In Blackest Night

January 23, 2009

green-lantern1

From the time that I was a very young boy I have always been into comic books and their characters in some form or another. Whether it was actually collecting and reading the comic books or simply following the stories with my brother on Saturday morning’s “SuperFriends” I loved to see these larger-than-life heroes with their amazing powers.

In some ways it was like my own personal mythology. Instead of stories of Zeus, Hermes, Ares, Poseidon or Athena, the stories were of Superman, The Flash, Batman, Aquaman and Wonder Woman. I loved the way good always triumphed over evil. I loved the way the writers allowed me to relate to these characters, and I loved the amazing art.

This love affair was strengthened and renewed after my car accident. I was in the hospital for 13 months without anything to do. To fill my time I began collecting comic books again. It gave me something to look forward to each week (Wednesday is the day new comics hit the shelves) and provided me something to pursue.

When I wasn’t reading the comic books themselves I used my laptop to search the Internet for the ones I needed to complete my collection. When big events happened in “Comicdom” then I would work to ensure that I had every piece and part of the storyline along with every cover drawn by every artist. I know there were times when the whole thing drove my family crazy, but it gave me something to think about outside of syringes, catheters, CPAP machines and therapy–and that made it important to everyone.

After my initial 13 months stay I found myself in the hospital repeatedly for the following 11 years. During one such 3+ month stay that was more emergent and serious than the others I asked Colette to put up a poster of Hal Jordan a.k.a. “The Green Lantern.”

The Green Lantern was always one of my favorite characters. I was always enamored with his abilities and the way with which he gained his strength. Hal Jordan was a test pilot who was one day brought to the crash site of an alien spaceship. Inside the ship Hal found an alien named Abin Sur. Abin Sur was a part of a group called The Green Lanterns who oversaw that good and right happened across the universe. He happened to be The Green Lantern for the area of the cosmos that included Earth, and because his spaceship crashed he needed to find someone quickly to be his replacement. Hal was that man. Hal was given the two things he needed to become the new Green Lantern; a green ring, and a battery (also green and shaped as a lantern) that could recharge the ring.

What made the ring special and unique was that it could produce anything its wearer could imagine out of a green energy that would emanate from the ring. If The Green Lantern needed to fight a villain he could imagine a giant baseball bat and the bat would appear and the evildoer would be knocked out of the way. If The Green Lantern wanted to capture his enemy he could simply imagine a jail cell and the iron doors would appear. The ring would continue to do this until it ran out of energy at which time The Green Lantern could place his hand with the ring on it inside the Green battery shaped as a lantern and say the words, “In brightest day, and blackest night, no evil shall escape my sight; Let those who worship evil’s might, Beware my power… Green Lantern’s light.”

The thing that really endeared me to The Green Lantern was the source of his true power. The ring would allow him to create anything he could imagine but it was his willpower that decided the strength and longevity of the items he would create. Hal Jordan ended up becoming the greatest of all Green Lanterns because no one in the universe had a willpower like his.

When I was in the hospital fighting to get my body through its most recent onslaught trying all the while to keep a positive attitude, I would look up at the poster of The Green Lantern and remember the importance of my own willpower.

Although I lacked the fanciful ring and lantern, I did have the ability to fight off my enemies with a willpower second to none. As my enemies of death, disability, negativity, and negligence conspired against me I could win the day if like The Green Lantern I kept my imagination and will strong.

In many ways we are all like Hal Jordan, The Green Lantern. Following the example of this comic book hero we can find ways to endure and find success. Our efforts will wax or wain all based on the strength of our will.  There is nothing that will ever be to difficult to acquire and no obstacle we can’t overcome with dedication and willpower.

For, lo truebeliever, remember “In brightest day and blackest night” we will find glory and honor if we will but keep our will strong and true.

Jh-

10 Comments | Do The Work, Drive, Overcoming, Will | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

The Sand Dune Solo

January 21, 2009

I have finally mended from my surgery and I’m back at my blog. Thanks to everyone for your prayers and concern.

sand-dunes
Growing up in Boise, Idaho one of my favorite weekends of the entire year was our “Fathers and Sons Outing.” On this one weekend during the summer all the fathers in our area would take their sons for a camp out. It usually began Friday afternoon and finished on Saturday after a hearty breakfast. Every boy I knew always looked forward to this weekend with great anticipation. I mean, how do you beat a whole weekend with just you and your dad? It was the ultimate boy’s night out.

There was a spot near Idaho City that was traditionally home for this event. It was called “Pinetop” and it looked exactly the way it sounds. It was nestled at the foot of the Sawtooth Mountains with lots of room for games and plenty of trails for hiking. However, I recall one of the years when “Pinetop” wasn’t available and our group ended up spending the night at the Bruno Sand Dunes.

It was Pinetop’s total opposite. It’s 4800 acres of sand. The state park includes desert, dune, prairie, lake and marsh habitat and is home to the tallest single-structured sand dune in North America (470 feet). When you’re there you feel like you’ve been dropped in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Climbing the dunes along with sliding or “surfing” down them always made for a great time, and we were sure that this year would be no exception.

We arrived on Friday, set up camp, roasted some hotdogs had a bonfire complete with “S’mores” and finally, after what I’m sure felt like 100 verses of “Waddley acha” followed by a rousing version of “Kumbaya,” went to our tents to hit the hay.

The next morning brought more pancakes, eggs and bacon then a young boy could ever hope to eat. After cleanup, everyone came together for some good old fashioned father/son games. There were three legged races, potato sack races and the ever popular tug-of-war.

With the games finished the group decided to make a mass exodus to one of the taller dunes. Our destination was in a different part of the park than our main camp and so everyone prepared for a hike that would take somewhere between 45 minutes to an hour.

As the group made their preparations I heard some of the older boys (16-18 years old) making a plan of their own. They wanted to break away from the group and use the shortcut taking them up the face of the Dune. I idolized these boys. Not only were they big and strong and popular at the local high school, but they had taken a special interest in me. It was a regular and frequent thing for them to pick me up and take me for an ice cream or to the park to play frisbee. They let me hang around all the time. In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for me (a nine year-old) to ride my bike to their house, knock on their door, and ask their parents if they could play.

Most 16-18 year-olds probably wouldn’t react positively to someone five or six years their junior coming over to play, but they always let me come down to their room, listen to ABBA, and talk about my day.

So, as soon as I heard about their plan to break away I asked them if I could come too. They said that I could as long as I had my dad’s permission. It wasn’t long after my dad said yes that the main group went on their way and we went to follow the shortcut.

I was able to keep up with the older boys all the way to the face of the large dune. However, once at the dune, things changed. It was every man for himself, and as they sped up the face of the mountain I ended up left in the dust. They were all trying to leave their mark as king of the mountain and my little legs just couldn’t keep up. Before I knew it I was looking up the face of this enormous sand dune all by myself.

It was getting to be afternoon by this time and the sand was heating up. When we left camp none of the older boys had shoes, and not wanting to be “sissy” I hadn’t taken mine either. The sand and it felt so soft and comfortable under my feet just hours earlier was now scorching my skin. I tried to take off my shirt and wrap it around my feet, but it was no use. Not only that, the dune seemed like it went on forever.

Crying and a little unsure of how I got myself in this predicament I began to wonder if I would ever see my dad again. I continued to move up the mountain very slowly. I would take a few steps until my feet got too hot and then I would sit down until my rear end became too hot. Back and forth I went inching my way up the sand dune.

Finally, with tears streaming down my face I heard my dad’s voice. I called his name as loudly as I could and was overjoyed when I saw him coming down the dune. He carried me to the top of the mountain on his back. When we reached the top I was surprised. I expected to see the young men I wasn’t able to keep up with, but I didn’t expect to see the rest of the group all there and seemingly without incident. As we returned to camp I found out why it had been so hard for me while it seemed to have been so easy for everyone else to climb the dune.

What I didn’t know when we started the day, was that the best way to walk on the hot sand is single file, rotating people from front to back. Whoever takes the first steps in the new sand has to absorb the most heat. As you move back through the line, following in each others’ footsteps, the sand gets less and less hot.

Being that I had had such a bad experience walking in the sand (and probably because I was crying) they started me at the back of the line. I couldn’t believe how cool the sand was in between my toes. This was the same sand that was so hot on the face of the mountain that it had precluded me from making even one step. As time passed, and the rotating continued, I eventually made my way to the front.

The sand was hot there but because I was with the group I only had to be in the front for a while and just as it became unbearable I got to move back to the end of the line. When we got back to camp and the watermelon bust began, I thought about how much simpler the return trip was when everyone only had to endure the heat a little while.

If we approach our lives the same way we too will find our journey easier. When we set about our difficulties with this kind of mentality we increase our ability to succeed. There are times when we can endure the heat, and those are the times when we we need to stand in front of the line and take as much heat as we can. But there are times when the heat becomes too much. In those times if we will allow ourselves to move to the back and let others take the lead will find that we can persevere no matter how big the obstacle.

In order to truly travel the furthest and the best through the vast difficulties life brings, one must be willing to walk together–always humble enough to help another, never too proud to ask for help. We must stop trying to take do the sand dune solo and walk together all the way to a comfortable camp and wonderful watermelon.

Jh-

1 Comment | Friendship, Others, Overcoming, Service | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

The Corn Pop Principle

January 10, 2009

Corn Pops

When I broke my neck in the summer of 1986 I learned that paralysis means much more to your body than just the inability to walk. At first, the shock to your body is so great that essentially everything shuts down. In my case my lungs, my bladder, my bowels, my stomach and everything in between stopped working–kind of like a massive work stoppage. It was as if the union representing my legs went on strike and every other union in my body locked out in a show of brotherhood.

This forced the doctors to get involved and help my body do the work it was designed to do. Because my stomach wouldn’t work properly my first days in the ICU necessitated an IV. The IV however is not a long-term solution. Knowing that this was going to be a long-term problem the doctors inserted a feeding tube in my nose down my throat and into my stomach. Throughout the day the nurses would bring in bags of Ensure that they would hang on the IV pole and connect to my feeding tube for me to digest. Ensure is a liquid that’s has its proteins broken down making it substantially easier to digest.

I lived weeks on the feeding tube. Finally, to my utter excitement the doctors felt like my stomach was back to work, the tube could be pulled and I could eat real food again. Unfortunately, although my stomach had resolved its differences with management, the muscles in my arms still had some grievances and had not yet come back in off the picket line.

This meant that the nurses and aides had to feed me every meal. It’s amazing how unpleasant they could make a meal. Regardless of the variety of the food on the plate, the foods that I ate had absolutely no variety at all. For example, if for breakfast I ordered eggs, hash browns, French toast and bacon, the nurse or aide would choose one to begin with and not move on until it was completely gone.

If we started with eggs I didn’t eat anything else until I ate all my eggs. Then, and only then, they would move to the bacon and I didn’t get anything else until I ate all my bacon. I remember watching a movie once where the star talked about eating “the perfect bite.” This was a bite that had a little bit of everything on the plate at once. The nurses and aides that fed me had obviously never heard of “the perfect bite.” They hadn’t even heard of “the mediocre bite,” “the average bite,” or even “the it’s kind of okay but not really bite.”

You can imagine then the excitement I felt when the doctor said I was finally ready to feed myself. My first “all by myself” meal was breakfast. I was so enthused I could hardly see straight. I was going to start with whatever I wanted and move through the plate with “perfect bite” after “perfect bite.” My fork and I were going to make some beautiful music.

In order to create this culinary symphony, I ordered up all the instruments. My breakfast plate had ham, bacon, sausage, eggs, toast, pancakes, fruit, yogurt, and best of all, Corn Pops.

As the plate sat before me, with my spoon in hand, I had to decide which player I would choose to open my masterpiece. Not wanting things to get soggy, I chose Corn Pops. The nurse arranged my plate accordingly and ask if there is anything else she could do to help. Thinking that she had done quite enough already, I invited her to leave. Now, it was just me and my breakfast.

As giddy as Christmas morning I placed my spoon in my bowl of Corn Pops. Wanting this first bite to be “perfect” I made sure to get the right amount of Corn Pops accompanied by just enough milk. Then, as I went to lift the spoon to my mouth I realized that the morning was not going to go down exactly the way I thought.

Working to get that first bite I found out that just because the doctor said I had the strength in my arms to feed myself didn’t mean it was so. As I tried to bring my utensil to my lips the strain was so great I felt like I was in an Olympic weightlifting competition.  It was as if my spoon weighed 1000 pounds. I pushed myself to get that first bite. The spoon rose as Corn Pop after Corn Pop and drop of milk after drop of milk fell onto my hospital gown until finally the only thing that reached my mouth was a cold, empty, spoon.

“If at first you don’t succeed, try try again,” I thought as I dipped my spoon into the bowl again. The bite looked just as good as its predecessors, and the results were just as bad. Again and again I worked to get my first taste of success.

Finally with every muscle giving every effort I got a bite–one bite.  A bite that consisted of one small Corn Pop with a splash of milk.

Breakfast was over. The nurse came in to remove my tray and said it looked as though everything I ordered was either still on my tray or now on my gown. Completely worn out and as tired as I had been in a long time I told her that although for the most part she was correct, something was missing.

I explained that during the course of working to get my breakfast from my plate to my mouth I had successfully moved one Corn Pop and the little milk from the bowl to my belly. She asked if I would like her to help me eat the rest of my breakfast. I told her I was fine and that she could take my tray.

I was full–not because of what was in my stomach, but because of the feeling in my heart. I had set out that morning to feed myself breakfast and although it wasn’t the biggest breakfast I had ever eaten, I had eaten. It was the feeling of accomplishment that filled me that day. Never before and never since has a Corn Pop tasted so good or meant so much.

That day I learned “The Corn Pop Principle.”–There is no way to better improve our self worth than to finish a job; one spoonful at a time.  Achieve to finish–not to see how that finish stacks up against the rest.

As we work daily to achieve success is important that we remember “The Corn Pop Principle” It’s important that we value accomplishment. So often accomplishment only becomes important to us if that accomplishment ranks higher than the accomplishment of others. “The Corn Pop Principle” teaches us that what’s important is that we work hard to complete the tasks we take on. Although it’s nice to have that task’s completion recognized by others it’s not what matters most. Finding our “Champion Inside” requires us to place significant value and high personal praise on our accomplishments regardless of where they fall in reference to others.

I have had breakfasts where I have eaten more food and I have had breakfasts where I have eaten better food. But, I have never had a breakfast that tasted better. It was only one Corn Pop and little milk, but I earned it on my own. If we let it, accomplishment can be the savor of our lives as it helps each day taste a little better.

Jh-

2 Comments | Adversity, Do The Work, Overcoming | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

Make Your Move

December 11, 2008

1459

In the eleven years that followed my auto accident there wasn’t one where I didn’t spend at least two full months in the hospital. During the most intense of those years it was even worse. I would go into the hospital for whatever procedure and stay in until my body simply couldn’t take it anymore, when they would release me and allow me to stay out until my body was well enough to go back in.

For the most part this meant three months in followed by three months in the hospital repeated over and over again. In the midst of one of these multi-month stays, I had understandably gotten a bad case of cabin fever. I was so tired of being in the hospital I had to find a way out.

During this stay, like many of the others, while I was healing the doctors and therapists wanted me up in my chair as much as possible. Anyone who’s spent any real time in the hospital knows that as soon as they can they get you up and going. However, because of my health I couldn’t go far. Therefore, they would sit me up in my chair wrap three of their large blankets around my body (one around my torso, one around my midsection, and one around my feet), slide my Discman in the back of my chair with my headphones on my head so I had something to listen to, and allow me to cruise around the hospital in my wheelchair.

In those months I explored every inch of the hospital. From geriatrics to genetics, from examination to x-ray, and from the lab to the lounge I knew that hospital like the back of my hand. It got to the point where I spent so much time investigating the hospital and out of my room that the nurses didn’t think twice if I was gone for hours on end.

The day finally came when I had had enough. I couldn’t spend another day in the cafeteria, on the helipad overlooking the community, or in any other department of the hospital–I had to get out.

Knowing that I had at least three hours before someone would come looking I began to formulate a plan.

During that time I spent a lot of energy collecting comic books. The comics themselves were light enough that I could hold them in bed, and collecting them gave me something to pursue. Knowing that the new comics had just come in I knew that the comic store was going to be my destination.

Picking this destination made things a little tricky. The comic book store was nearly three miles away. In my chair that would just barely give me enough time to make it there and back before the nurses noticed.

That morning just like every other morning, the nurses got me up, wrapped me in the three blankets and loaded up my Discman. That morning just like every other morning, I headed off the floor telling the nurses I would be back in a while. However, unlike any other morning I made my way to the lobby.

As I came off the elevators I could see the doors leading out of the hospital. Unfortunately, I also saw the security guard who stood in the lobby to make sure that nobody came in who didn’t look like they belonged and that nobody went out that didn’t look like they had permission.

Obviously being in a wheelchair wearing nothing more than three blankets, what was generously deemed a hospital gown, and a pair of headphones, I was a little conspicuous. Sneaking out while the guard was watching wasn’t exactly an option. So I sat there in the corner of the lobby waiting for my moment.

That day when the nurses were getting me ready I had them put a Cd by the band Sugar Ray into my Discman. I sat in the lobby listening to different songs while I waited for the security guard to get distracted hopefully long enough for me to make my move.

Then it happened; he turned to talk to a colleague and I knew this was my time. Slowly, nonchalantly, I made my way to the automatic double doors that separated me from freedom.

Just as I passed through the first set of automatic doors listening to Sugar Ray’s song  “Falls Apart” from their album 14:59  I heard their lyric run through my head as they sang, “Runaway, Runaway.” I thought, “This is a sign, I’m going to make it. I’m actually going to make it. Then again, the refrain, “Runaway, Runaway” as I passed through the final automatic doors.

There comes a time when you’ve been in the hospital long enough and you don’t care what anyone else thinks. This time had obviously come for me, because all I cared about was the fact that I was out. All I had between my birthday suit and the rest of the world were three hospital blankets, but I was out.  Free at last, I began to make my way to the comic book store.

It was a precarious journey. Unlike many places in the United States many areas in the Northeast don’t have sidewalks lining every street. As I made my way through Norwalk, Connecticut I had to pick my route carefully. Sometimes the sidewalk was only on one side of the street, sometimes I would have to change the street I was on to find the sidewalk at all, and sometimes I had to make my way on the street with the cars.

Somewhere along the journey the hospital blanket that covered my legs came a little loose and got caught under my front wheel. Before I knew it I was down one hospital blanket. This was little disconcerting. Were I to lose another hospital blanket there would be few secrets left between me and the people of Norwalk.

But, I made it. I got to the comic book store, made my purchase (while the clerk gave me the oddest look), and made my way successfully back to the hospital. I reached my room in time minus one blanket, carrying a bag of comics on the back of my chair.

This was a huge success for me. I’d gotten out into the real world and procured my comics as well. This not only made my day, but my whole week.

I had so many opportunities to turn back, so many chances to give up. But like life, if we are to succeed there comes a time when we have to make our move. I’m sure there are people who saw me driving partially clothed on the road who thought I was crazy. That’s okay, sometimes success means being a little crazy. I’m sure the nurses thought it was unsafe. That’s okay, often success means breaking predetermined rules.

However no matter how willing I was to be a little crazy and little unsafe the magic moment came when I sat in the lobby. Right then I had to decide, right then I had to move forward or give up. Making my move made all the difference.

Each of us has times when we have the opportunity to make our move and succeed, or let fear win the day and fail. So, set your goals and pursue them for all you’re worth, and when those times come and you find yourself separated from your dreams by a security guard and a pair of automatic doors remember the wise words of Sugar Ray, “Runaway, Runaway” and make your move.

Jh-

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3 Comments | Adversity, Do The Work, Goals, Overcoming, Persistence | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

The Laughter Lesson

December 9, 2008

weirdal

Directly after I broke my neck everyone around me went into triage. The people who were responsible for my care made sure that I received the most important care first. The EMTs who first arrived on that beach at Lake Powell did only what was needed most to get me to the emergency room. The ER doc’s picked the most crucial areas of my health to concentrate on to prepare me for surgery. The surgeon’s cared only for my most critical needs to get me into the ICU. My ICU doctors worried only about those things that were most eminent to my survival.

My parents follow the same course. They decided to concentrate only on those things they felt were most important to keep my attitude up and my spirits high. Of those few things they picked to concentrate on one of them was to make sure I laughed.

Every day I was required to watch, listen to, read, or have read to me something that was funny. They didn’t care what it was as long as it made me laugh. At my request they left the hospital and went and purchased every “Weird Al” Yankovic or Bill Cosby album, every Don Knotts/Tim Conway or Monty Python video they could find.

No matter how bad the day, no matter how bad I felt, no matter how bad my situation I had to use these “tools” every day. It was made to be as important as any therapy session or surgical procedure. My parents wanted to ensure that laughter was a part of my life even on days when there didn’t seem to be much to laugh about.

The results were amazing. Regardless of how I felt Bill, Al, Don, Tim and the Pythons always made me smile. That smile always turn into a laugh, and that laugh into laughter. As I laughed my problems seem smaller and the day brighter.

Years later I try to use this important lesson in my life. I work hard to make sure that every day I find something to make me smile; to make me laugh. I have found that immersing myself in humor for some part of my day is as important as anything else I do to keep my attitude up.

This dedication to laughter has also allowed me to look at the lighter side of my life. I have found that when trying times come they go much easier when you find the humor in the situation and learn to laugh. Some may think it’s the crazy and at times a little twisted. But, I have found it impossible to smile and frown at the same time. I can’t do it–It is a physical impossibility.

Try it. Find something, anything that makes you laugh and make it a part of your daily regiment.  Make it a habit. Just like you brush your teeth and comb your hair everyday make sure you set aside some time to laugh. No matter how busy your schedule, find a way to fit it in. If you will you’ll find your bad days better, your good days greater, and your great days out of this world.

They key is to simply learn to laugh.

Jh-

3 Comments | Endure, Happiness, Humor, Optimism, Overcoming, Positive Thinking | Tagged: , , , , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

Move Your Feet

December 6, 2008

football1

When I started playing Little League football all I wanted to be was the quarterback. My favorite professional team with the Dallas Cowboys and I wanted to be just like Roger Staubach. On one of our first days of practice we each got to go and pick out our number from a pile of jerseys. With dreams of playing like my hero I picked out #12.

Our first season together the coaches felt I made an excellent quarterback. I was bright and it was easy for me to memorize all the plays. We were only in the fourth grade and so we didn’t pass much. In fact, the only pass we had in our playbook was a halfback pass where I would pitch the ball to the halfback and he would pass the ball down the field.

Things worked out great. I knew exactly where every hole was in the line and exactly which back I was supposed to hand the ball to on which play.

The following year teams began to pass. It was at this time when the coaches found they had a small problem with their starting quarterback. I couldn’t throw a ball to save my life. It wasn’t long after this realization that I was moved from standing behind the center as quarterback to kneeling in a four-point stance in front of the center on the defensive line–still wearing #12.

I spent the remainder of my football career on either the defensive or offensive side of the line. During all the time I spent “in the trenches” there were a few basic principles that were drilled into my head from every coach I ever had. One of those principles was to never ever stop moving your feet. Regardless of what level of football a person might ever reach one principle will remain true. The last person moving their feet will win out.

Nearly every day of practice is filled with some sort of drill to remind you to keep moving or “chopping” your feet. When I hit the dummies my coach would yell at me to move my feet. When I hit my teammates my coach would yell at me to move my feet. When I was running in place my coach would yell at me to move my feet. He wanted to make sure I knew the importance of moving my feet.

Moving your feet allows you to be prepared to “tackle” any problem you might on the field. Just like football, when we keep moving forward we stay prepared to take on the problems that face us everyday.

As I travel through my life and tell my story I often have people come up and ask me how I’ve made it through such difficulty in my life and if I have any tips for them. When they do I often think back to the words of my football coach, “Move Your Feet.”

If there is one secret or one key that I feel has helped me to succeed through some difficulty it is the idea of continually moving forward. When we “Move Our Feet” we leave little time to wallow in self-pity or become stagnant in self-doubt. Moving our feet keeps us going forward achieving new things and accomplishing new goals. I would ascribe the majority of the success I’ve had in my life to simply moving forward by “Moving My Feet.”

I have never found any benefit in my life in looking back and wishing things were different. It’s not that I don’t sometimes wish that my circumstance was different, it’s that I have never found any real benefit in spending time concentrating on that wish–for wishing won’t make it so.

I have however, found great benefit in moving forward and trying new things. Doing brings an incredible power that wishing never will. Doing keeps us moving while wishing keeps us still.

So when you’re hit with emotional difficulties, “Move Your Feet.” When you’re hit with physical difficulties, “Move Your Feet.” And if life is good and there’s little difficulty at all, “Move Your Feet.”

Jh-

3 Comments | Do The Work, Endure, Goals, Overcoming | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

A Grateful Heart + Winner

November 25, 2008

First, congrats and an autographed DVD to Sue for her winning inspirational thought.  I love her spirit about the “change” cancer has brought to her life.

Six years since my diagnosis of Breast Cancer. It was a hard time for my husband, my boys and my extended family and of course for me.
I consider every day a gift and I don’t like to waste even a minute on hard feelings, mean people (I’m in retail, LOL) or anger. I just don’t have the time!
Cancer did change me but it is all good!

Now Today’s Post:

My Hands

My Hands

With Thanksgiving on it’s way, I wanted this weeks posts to center on gratitude.  I’ll post today and Wednesday and then be off for the weekend.

During my hospital stays, I have never had any real depression.  The closest I ever came was in the middle of the three-month stay after breaking my neck.

When I was in the ICU, I was so ill and so focused on staying alive there wasn’t much time left to think too far into the future.  As I continued to get better I began to wonder what life after the hospital would be like.
Moving from ICU to the Rehabilitation wing brought the thought of “after” permanently to the fore of my mind.  That’s their job there—to get you thinking about living versus just staying alive. It was there I began to understand what it meant to be unable to move my hands.

In rehab, I was working every day to get the most out of the few parts of my body that still worked, trying to sit upright on the mats, increasing my strength with the weights and working to push my chair.

At night in my room, I would watch my hands. I would see them move in my mind, concentrating until it hurt, hoping for them to work; needing them to work. But they didn’t.  Not a single movement.
One night lying in my bed, I struck a deal with God.  I told him that I would live the rest of my life happy without the use of my legs if He’d just give me back my hands. “Keep my legs;” my soul would scream,” Just let me have my hands.”

It didn’t seem like too much to ask.  Most kids at fifteen were worried about what they would wear the next day to school.  I couldn’t feed myself, clothe myself, or get myself into or out of bed.
Day and night I would pray, “Please God, heal my hands, make them move, make them work,” and every time—the same result—nothing.

I knew that having my hands would open up a whole new world for me. I knew it meant that I could push my own chair, put myself in and out of bed, pick something up off the floor, wash my face, brush my teeth, comb my hair—things that would make my life easier a hundred-fold.

I knew that if God were ever to accept my deal, He would have to see me working hard every day. So, I had decided that in daily therapy I would give everything I had. Hour upon hour I exercised— stretching and pulling, doing everything in my power to strengthen the remaining muscles.
The work was tedious and the progress slow, but the tiny daily victories coupled with my hope made it all worth it—until Daniel came.

Dan had been in an accident similar to mine, but had escaped with the total use of his arms and hands and partial use of his legs. Every day the therapist would offer to work with Dan. “Today, let’s concentrate on your upper body.  Today, let’s strengthen your arms and hands.” the therapist would plead, only to hear Dan’s all too familiar response. “No,” he would reply, “Today I want to watch my legs, maybe today they’ll move—maybe today they’ll work.

Frustrated to no end, I thought, “Don’t you see what you have?  Don’t you understand that you have access to blessings and opportunities that I can only dream of, that I can only pray for?  Yet ,you’re so wrapped up in what you don’t have, you can’t even see what you do have.”

Ready to quit I headed back to my room.  On my way there I stopped in the room of a friend, Rich Hullinger.
Rich was also a quadriplegic.  As I spoke to him that day, I noticed that he wore leather braces on his wrists. I had worn similar braces at the beginning of my hospital stay, but as my wrists had become stronger, I was able to function without them.

It seemed odd to me that Rich, who had been in hospital longer than I, would still be wearing them.  Our injuries were similar. We were both quadriplegics at about the same level. But, he had been in the hospital longer than I, and so I began to wonder why would he need the leather braces on his wrists?

Curious, I asked Rich about them. I told him that because of the time that he had been in the hospital, he could remove the braces from his wrists.

It was then Rich had his beautiful young wife come and remove the braces.  I watched his wrists fall.  He explained to me that the break in his neck was one pinhead higher than mine.  He told me that because it was, he was unable to move his wrists up and down or even hold them against the power of gravity.
I returned to my room so ashamed. I had found in myself, all the things I hated in Dan.

That night lying in bed I watched my hands, but this time for a different purpose. Instead of waiting for them to move or work, I watched as my wrists moved up and down.

Over and over I moved my wrists up and down, all the while thinking of lessons Rich had taught me.  I began to think of how blessed I was to be able to move my wrists up and down.  I wondered how many people were praying that night for that one singular blessing.  I wondered what else I had access to that others could only dream about.  Each time I moved my wrists up and down I would think of a blessing that was mine.
I thought about the family who loved and cared about me.  I thought about the friends who cared little whether I was sitting or standing and cared only that I was their friend.  I thought about the fact that I had never wanted for food, clothing, or a place to stay.  I thought about how I had never had to find shelter from the rain. I realized that I lived in a country where I was free to worship as I pleased; where I could get the best medical care.

As I moved my hand up and down I became thankful in my heart for things that I had otherwise forgotten.
I had spent the bulk of my time concentrating on what I did not have when I should have been focusing on what I did. By wishing for different circumstances, I had become totally oblivious to my life’s many blessings.  This oblivion caused my outlook on life to become tarnished.  It affected the way I dealt with others and my zeal for life.  It affected the way I felt about myself. 

With this new realization, I began to feel more blessed.   As I felt more blessed, I became more thankful. As I became more thankful, I developed a sense of worth which brought with it new vigor for life.

Rich’s lesson to us is to take a moment each day to look around our lives and realize our blessings.  There are blessings all around.  Each of us needs only to take a moment and see how blessed we are, no matter how dark the night or difficult the day, no matter what adversity stands in our way. If we will open our eyes and look, we will see that we have blessings that others only think about; blessings that others can only dream of–that we have blessings others can only pray for.

Jh-

3 Comments | Choices, Gratitude, Overcoming, Prayer | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

My Best Day So Far

November 4, 2008
My Friend George Durrant

My Friend George Durrant

As a student at BYU I had the opportunity to take a few classes from George Durrant. I was always excited to take his classes. He was a popular professor on campus, mostly due to his ability to interlace strong academia with clever humor. He was poignant and funny and most days had some motivating sentiment to help you get through the day. So much so, that he also became a popular author.

His books like his classes, were filled with wisdom that anyone could use and humor that made every page a joy. During that time, I was beginning my journey to become a professional speaker. He always had good advice that he was willing to share on how to keep an audience while teaching principles that matter. I was lucky to have enough out of classroom interaction with him that I came to a point where was able to call him my friend.

In the years that I was at BYU he wrote what in my opinion was the best of all his books. It was titled, “My Best Day So Far.” The book was filled with ideas on how to make each day better than the one before. However, the “big idea” behind the book was that each day could become your “Best Day So Far” if you simply said that it was. It was a wonderful idea. Wonderful, because its implementation took hardly any effort at all, but the result was monumental.

It wasn’t a ground breaking idea, or one that made all the papers, but what was amazing about the concept was the way the man lived by it. More amazing still, was the way Professor Durrant used the concept in his life. From the time that he first told me about this idea for his book to the last time I saw him, every time I asked him how he was I received the same response. “It’s my best day so far,” he’d reply. It was incredible. The man never missed. Over and over I asked and over and over I received the same response, “My best day so far.”

The idea worked. I know every day I saw him didn’t start out as his best day, but hearing his own affirmation made it so. You could see it on his face. It always carried a smile, it was always filled with joy. What’s more, his example motivated me to give this idea a try. I never became a successful at it as he was, but on the days that I remembered to tell others that it was, “My best day so far,” something interesting happened. No matter how the day was going, it always improved when I used George Durrant’s affirmation.

I know that there were days when the reply wasn’t exactly true. There were days that weren’t necessarily my best so far, but by allowing myself to hear that it was always made the day better. The more I put the concept to use in my life the more “best days” I had.

Each of us has seen this principle work to some degree or another in our lives. If we wake up sure that the day is going to be a bad one, sure we are going to feel ill or down, we began to see those assurances come to pass. What then might happen if from the very beginning of each day we tell ourselves and others that it was going to be our, “Best day so far.”

Try it. I know that you’ll find out exactly what I did; that it works. That every day you decide can be your best so far has a chance to become exactly that.

Let’s resolve then to follow George Durrant’s example. Let’s find the good in every day that comes. For I know from personal experience, that every day could be your last. We have no idea what each new day holds in store for us. But with a “Best day so far” mindset we will more fully enjoy and relish the gift that every day is.

So, “How’s your day?”

Jh-

2 Comments | Attitude, Happiness, Health, Optimism, Overcoming | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

One Hour

October 14, 2008

Hard times and bad days are a part of everyone’s life. No matter how dedicated we become to having a positive attitude, no matter how much effort we put in to looking at the good in our lives, life is filled with adversity and difficulty. The most positive, optimistic, cup half-full person in the world will have times when the experiences in their life becomes so overwhelming that they can barely put their heads in their hands.

As I travel around the world and have the opportunity to meet thousands of people in thousands of circumstances,  no matter where I go and no matter who I meet, invariably someone asks how I have dealt with the tremendous adversities that have been a part of my life.  the question is usually followed by a story of a substantial struggle or difficulty that has recently been either a part of their life, or the life of someone close to them.

When this question comes, and it does more than any other, I do my best to share some insight that might help them deal with the hardship that is become a part of their life experience. Depending on the adversity and the situation, I will try and find different pieces and parts of my experience to help. But, no matter the adversity or the situation, there is one piece of advice that I always share.

In the days and weeks after I broke my neck my life literally hung in the balance. Even on the good days the doctors were unsure if I was going to make it. One doctor remarked that in his over 20 years as a pulmonologist, I had the worst case of pneumonia he had ever seen. At 15 years of age this was a wake-up call to the fragility and uncertainty of life. At a young age I got the opportunity to gain just a little understanding about the incredible gift that living is.

This realization, as powerful as it was, could not stay the sadness, frustration, and anger that my adversities brought to my everyday.  But, what this understanding did do was help me realize that life was too short to be spent mired in depression. So, I made a decision.

I decided that when the difficulties were too much to bear, I could take one hour. I gave myself one hour to be down, depressed, frustrated and mad. During this hour I could kick, bite, cry, scratch, scream, throw things, sob, or sulk. I could sit in silence. I could talk of giving up, and I could think about how life was unfair.

But, when an hour was over, I had to make sure that the depression, the frustration, the anger, the sorrow, the weeping, the wailing, and the gnashing of teeth had to be over as well.

This little bit of inspiration saved me. It gave me the chance to get out all those feelings of sorrow and ineptitude all the while keeping me from getting caught in that never-ending spiral of depression and gloom. It took discipline to keep it to an hour especially on those really bad days. But, every time I remained dedicated to the ideal I found my life to be better and my prospects brighter.

Life is hard. Everyone knows that personally and intimately. We, all of humanity, deal with difficult, arduous adversities that push us to the very brink, and we need time to express the frustrations that come from our hardships. However, although it is true that life is hard, it is also true that life is short — too short to be spent concentrating on the repugnant and forgetting about the elegant.

At the end of the day. all the anger and frustration in the world won’t change our situation. All the depression and sorrow you can muster won’t chase the adversity from your life. Whether we are happy or sad, we will still have to find our way through the difficulties that are part of everyone’s life.

I know that happy or sad I will still be a quadriplegic. Happy or sad, I will still be unable to move my hands. Happy or sad. I will still be unable to walk, and happy or sad, I will still be in a wheelchair — so I might as well take an hour and enjoy the ride.

Jh-

3 Comments | Adversity, Happiness, Overcoming, Positive Thinking | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Jason Hall

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