Time to share a bit more about myself.
I am a middle-aged (I’ve never really liked that expression, because to me middle-aged is half as old as one is GOING to be) single woman. I still live with my mother due to a physical disability. We have separate apartments; mine is downstairs, and Mom’s is upstairs. The computer is upstairs.
I have poor eye-hand-foot co-ordination, and a perceptual-motor problem, and am a non-dyslexic dysgraphic. I was reading at an early age, but I still can’t write legibly. How many times was I scolded by my teachers who thought that since I read so well, my sloppy penmanship was due to carelessness and laziness? “She’s just not trying!” (In fairness to them, I should point out that in those days, most people were unaware that my particular disability even existed. Still, that was no excuse for their shaming me the way they did. They may not have known about my disability, but they did know that I was a child.)
What does poor co-ordination mean? The best way I can explain it is this: (And remember, my medical training is non-existent!) My eyes work fine, my hands work fine, and my feet work fine.
Now, imagine that my eyes, hands, and feet are students in a classroom. Individually, they are excellent students (I suppose that, in the case of my eyes, I should say excellent pupils.) However, put them together in a committee, and they do not work well together.
My poor co-ordination also gives me a problem with my balance. I can walk quite well in my own home and my own yard, where I don’t have to worry about people in a hurry pushing into me. So I only go out and about if I have someone to hold on to. I do use a walker from time to time, but I have to stay on my own block even then; the traffic is too dangerous. For one thing, some drivers go BACKWARDS on our one-way street!
Another aspect of my perceptual problem is that I cannot see where things are in relationship to where I am. I can see WHAT it is, but I won’t be able to point to it accurately, nor can I tell what other people are pointing to.
I remember being very confused, very puzzled many, many times because I saw the teacher pointing to me when, in reality, she was pointing to one of my classmates, and vice-versa. I can’t remember how many times I was scolded for calling out, or for not paying attention.
Once I was diagnosed, however, I explained my problem, and requested that my teachers call on me by name.
I was also one of the kids some, though not all, of the other kids picked on and called “REE-tard!” Of course, I very well might have acted the same way, had our situations been reversed.
After I had become a Catholic, someone told me that Purgatory would be much worse than anything that happened to me in school.
I responded, “No, I think it will be better, because it will be FAIR. I won’t suffer anything I don’t DESERVE in Purgartory, and I won’t be confused as to why I am there.”
And as I type this, it occurs to me that Purgatory won’t only be FAIR; it will be MERCIFUL, because God is merciful. I’ll suffer in Purgatory much LESS than I deserve.