Dear Mr. Benson: November 1, 2003
I should begin by apologizing for not writing to you for such a long time. It’s difficult for me to write to you when my life is not going well.
I’m sorry to report that I never got the chance to act in the movie based on the Broadway hit, “Last Dance for Lillian.” Unfortunately, a drunk driver hit me while I was walking across the street. I was severely injured and had to spend several months in the hospital. I had three broken ribs and damage to my spine. The worst part is that both of my kneecaps were shattered. The doctors told me that I am lucky just to be alive. However, I don’t feel lucky. My dancing career is over and I may never walk again.
I’d like to be able to tell you that I’ve embraced this adversity and discovered some profound meaning, but I can’t. That is one of your teachings that I’ll never accept. Everything I ever wanted in life is gone forever. I feel cheated. I worked so hard. Every single day I did the right thing, as you used to say. I was kind to every person I met. I gave my time and money to help people in need. I gave my heart and soul to an art that made others happy, and what do I get for more than a dozen years of “being the best I can be every day”? I get to be crippled for the rest of my life. How can that possibly be fair? I devoted every waking hour, every single day, year in and year out to something I believed in. What did I get for my trouble? Six months of happiness and the promise of an amazing career that I can never have. I feel like God decided to play a cruel trick on me.
I’ve returned to the home of my adoptive family and tried to use the time to reconnect with them, but it’s been difficult. I’m in a lot of physical pain and depressed most of the time. So, I’m not much fun to be around. My parents and siblings have to wait on me constantly. I can’t even go to the bathroom by myself. It’s so humiliating. I hate being like this. I hate being in a wheelchair. I hate being a burden to my family. I hate watching TV or surfing the Internet. That’s not “me.” I hate my life!
Tell me, Mr. Benson, how do I create a future vision of myself as a crippled woman? I just can’t “see it.” I don’t know what the future has in store for me, but it doesn’t look good. I’ve become a miserable, bitter person. This is probably not something that you want to hear, but I’m trying to fulfill my promise to write and tell you about my life. I suppose you’ll just have to take the bad with the good — or don’t. I really don’t care. To me, it’s all bad.
I know that this hasn’t been a very nice letter and guess that’s because I’m just not a nice person anymore. To a certain degree I think you’re responsible for my plight. You filled my head with so much nonsense. “Reach for the stars,” you said. “Set audacious goals. You can do anything you choose if you set your mind to it.” Well, I think you’re full of it. Did you ever consider what’d happen when a person sets those types of goals, but doesn’t reach them? Do you know what it’s like to nurture a dream for more than a decade and then have it smashed? I think you set me up for a fall. That Principles of Grace junk — stop teaching it! It’s garbage! That’s all I have to say.
Grace
Dear Mr. Benson: December 5, 2004
I’m beginning this letter with a huge apology. The last time I wrote, I said some hurtful things I didn’t mean. The accident damaged me in ways that I didn’t understand at the time. I lashed out at you, because I lost my dream and that was unfair. I wouldn’t have had that dream or the incredible six months during which I actually got to live it without the things I learned from you. Please find it in your heart to forgive me.
My physical and psychological wounds are finally beginning to heal, and as you might expect, things turned around for me as a result of the Principles of Grace. My recovery began just over a year ago when I decided to read Victor Frankl’s book, Man’s Search for Meaning. He wrote that one of the ways people find meaning in life is “by the attitude we take toward unavoidable suffering, by attempting to turn one’s predicament into human achievement.”38
As I considered those words, I realized that my own attitude, which was very negative, was not consistent with the principles I hold dear. I needed to make some changes in my life, but I didn’t really know where to start. So, I decided to reread some of the notes that I took in your class and reconnect with those principles. I came across this line: “If you’re ever feeling depressed, walk across the road and help someone else.” Later that day, I saw a sign in the library window (which is directly across the street from my home) that said volunteers were needed to read to blind children. It was a meaningful coincidence and I acted on it.
Even though I was in a wheelchair, I could read to children, and you know what? I loved it. I went to the library for several hours every afternoon and it was wonderful. The kids were so happy and optimistic and full of life. The fact that they were blind was irrelevant to them. It put my own suffering in perspective and that somehow opened a window to new horizons. The blind children couldn’t do anything to change their handicap, but I could at least attempt to do something about my own.
Since I was already at the library, I decided to research my condition and explore various treatment options. I searched the Internet and read medical journals until I came across an article about a professional football player who suffered a similar injury. After surgery and three years of rehabilitation he actually resumed his career. The athlete gave the credit for his recovery to a pioneering physical therapist named Joe Saratini. Here was another uncanny coincidence, because my high school sweetheart’s name was Joe Saratini. I Googled the physical therapist and sure enough, it was my Joe. I couldn’t believe it. I got butterflies in my stomach just reading about him.
I discovered that Joe’s a big-time physical therapist who works with professional athletes. It took me a few weeks to get up the nerve, but eventually, I went to see him. We hadn’t spoken in nine years, but that didn’t seem to matter at all. He was the same old Joe, confident, charming, witty and very compassionate. For me, it was love at first sight all over again. For Joe, it was strictly business. He personally took charge of my rehabilitation. The basis of his success with the football player was a therapy designed to improve neuromuscular communication, and he put me through a similar regimen. I had spine damage and my leg muscles had atrophied from a year of inactivity. Joe’s therapy focused on exercises designed to develop the neurological pathways between the spine and my leg muscles. It’s been a long and painful journey, but I’m finally recovering. I had three surgeries and have spent six hours a day, five days a week in rehabilitation for a full year. It has been worth it, because I can walk again without pain. And, I plan to dance again. It may not be professionally but at least at my wedding. That’s right, I said wedding. Joe and I are planning to tie the knot in the spring. I’ll be sending you an invitation soon, and we hope you’ll come.
Mr. Benson, I’ll never forget how you recognized that my poor behavior during middle school stemmed from the loss of my parents, or how you looked beyond the wannabe gang member who disrupted your class and saw only my highest potential. I’ll never forget how you believed in me at a time when I didn’t even believe in myself. You changed my life, and I’ll never forget you.
With warm regards,
Grace
Dare To Be Successful Page 8