October 1, 2007

"Do Unto Others..."
^by Chad Hymas

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Don’t you love it when your kids or grandkids sit on your lap? I sure do. Even though I can’t feel anything from my shoulders down, it still feels great when my kids say, “Dad, take me for a ride in your wheelchair!” “Dad, can I sit on your lap for the Utah Jazz game?” “Dad, can we harness the dog to your chair and all go for a ride?” (I don’t like that last request so much!)

Recently my oldest son, Christian, stopped allowing me the pleasure of 'giving him a ride in my wheelchair'. Well, of course I understood – at least I thought I understood. He is growing up. He’s a foot taller than me now (remember, I’m only 31/2 feet tall – sitting) he's ten years old, and sitting on Dad’s lap is not so cool anymore – right?

Of course I understood.

Or did I?

Christian set me straight with a few very wise and insightful questions (sometimes – usually – a well asked question is a lot more powerful than a well phrased statement).

“Christian, come talk to me for a second. Have a seat on my lap.”

“Sure Dad. But I don’t need to sit on your lap.”

“Ace (a name I only call him in serious matters), why have you stopped sitting on my lap? I know you are older, but you know I love our connection, and it doesn’t bother me that you’re getting bigger!”

“Dad, that’s not it. Actually, I’m a little confused.”

What have I done wrong? I thought.

“What is bothering you, son?” I asked cautiously.

“Dad, you’ve always told me that you are paralyzed, right?”

“Ace, you haven’t seen Daddy walk in six years. You know I’m paralyzed.”

“Dad”, he said, “You told me that paralyzed means that you can’t move. You never told me that it meant you can’t feel! I just learned in school that when someone is paralyzed they can’t just not move, they can’t feel either. Is it true Dad? I mean, can you not feel either?”

“Ace I thought you knew that. You are right, I can’t feel my legs, feet, stomach, chest, or most of my arms; but it’s alright! It’s not a big deal. I’m cool with it – and I still like it when you sit on my lap.”

“That’s just it; why would you want me to sit on your lap when you can’t even feel me sitting there? That seems stupid, Dad!”

I could think of no logical response. I sat there at a loss for words while I tried to see it from his point of view. I felt sad thinking there was no way I could feel him as he wanted me to.

Noticing my discouragement, my brilliant and caring son added this simple but profound question . . .

“Dad, is there anywhere that you can feel?” “Well sure, Ace; I can feel my shoulders, my neck, and my face. Now will you please sit on my lap?” “Dad, how about this instead!” He then put his arms around me, touching every part of me that could feel. I asked my wife to quickly take a picture. My incredible, brilliant son! (He must get it from his mother, I’m not that smart.) As sensitive as I think I am (my wife will argue with that), and as much in touch with the needs of my clients, friends and family as I

try to be, I am always so busy thinking about what I want and what I want for them, I don’t stop and think about what THEY want.

“Ace”, I said, “You don’t ever have to sit on my lap again – as long as you don’t ever stop doing this!”

Now, that is what I get whenever I see him. I don’t even have to ask. It’s automatic. My youngest boy, Kyler (7), has bought in as well. My daughter Gracee? Well, she’ll NEVER be allowed to NOT sit on my lap! The same goes for her mother!

Perhaps our mission is not to “do unto others as we would have them do unto us”, as the scripture says, but rather to go deeper and do what my good friend Tom Cantrell says, “do unto others as they would have us do unto them.” Somehow, my son instinctively knew that the gift we ask of others isn’t always the gift we need. He took the time to discover, with a few honest questions, what I really needed.

It wasn’t to have him on my lap where I could see his presence, but rather to have his arms around my neck and shoulders so I could feel his presence.

By asking me questions and really hearing my answers, this bright wonderful son, who once helped strengthen me in rehab, helped strengthen my connection with my family and ultimately my friends and my clients and audiences. He didn’t do just what I said I wanted; he took the time to find out what I needed – and made it happen.

Until next month, believe you can fly!

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