Wheelchair Inspirational Quotes

For lots of us, disabled people are not our teachers or our doctors or our manicurists. We're not real people. We are there to inspire. And in fact, I am sitting on this stage looking like I do in this wheelchair, and you are probably kind of expecting me to inspire you.

It's like people you see sometimes, and you can't imagine what it would be like to be that person, whether it's somebody in a wheelchair or somebody who can't talk. Only, I know that I'm that person to other people, maybe to every single person in that whole auditorium. To me, though, I'm just me. An ordinary kid. But hey, if they want to give me a medal for being me, that's okay. I'll take it. I didn't destroy a Death Star or anything like that, but I did just get through the fifth grade. And that's not easy, even if you're not me.

Patent attorney Greg Raymer is no drink of water, but there is a woman in his autograph queue (“My husband’s a great fan. You’ve inspired him, big-time”) who has munched herself into a wheelchair: arms like legs, legs like torsos, and a torso like an exhausted orgy.

My mom’s smile is genuine, A lilac beaming In the presence of her Sun. Indentions in the sand prove Time’s linear progression, Her hair yet unblighted, Carrying midnight’s consistency. Clear tracks fading as the Movement slips further In the past. Cheekbones High, soft, In summer’s hue, Hopeful. Each step’s unknown impact, A future looking back. My father’s strength: One whose Life is in his arms. Squinting past the camera, He rests upon a rock Like caramel corn half eaten, Just to the left Of man-made concrete convention Daylight’s eraser Removing color to his right. Dustin sits In my father’s lap, Open mouth of a drooling Big mouth bass; Muscle tone Of a well exercised Jelly fish, He looks at me Half aware; His wheelchair Perched at the edge Of parking lot gravel grafted Like a scar on nature’s beach, Opening to the ironic splendor Of a bitter tasting lake. I took the picture. Age 11. Capturing the pinnacle arc Of a son To my lilac Who Outlived him and weeps, Still. Their sky has staple holes – Maybe that’s how the Light Leaked out.

This was fresh, rich, heavenly, succulent, soft, creamy, kiss-my-ass, cows-gotta-die-for-this, delightfully salty, moo-ass, good old white folks cheese, cheese to die for, cheese to make you happy, cheese to beat the cheese boss, cheese for the big cheese, cheese to end the world, cheese so good it inspired a line every first Saturday of the month: mothers, daughters, fathers, grandparents, disabled in wheelchairs, kids, relatives from out of town, white folks from nearby Brooklyn Heights, and even South American workers from the garbage-processing plant on Concord Avenue, all patiently standing in a line that stretched from the interior of Hot Sausage’s boiler room to Building 17’s outer doorway, up the ramp to the sidewalk, curling around the side of the building and to the plaza near the flagpole.

Ummiye is currently working on a screenplay called "Footless on Her Own Feet." It tells the story of a handicapped girl whose fifty-year-old mother pushes her to school every day in a wheelbarrow. Eventually, she wins a national drawing contest, making a super-realistic picture of herself in the wheelbarrow. With the prize money, she buys a wheelchair. Like the Arslankoy theatre, the girl's drawing uses artistic representation to change the thing represented. By drawing a truthful picture of the humiliating wheelbarrow, she transforms it into a dignified wheelchair-- much as a theatre, by representing the injustice of village women's life, might make that life more just. Nabokov once claimed that the inspiration for Lolita was an art work produced by an ape in the Jardin des Plantes: a drawing of the bars of its cage. It's a good metaphor for artistic production. What else do we ever draw besides the bars of our cage, or the wheelbarrow we rode in as crippled children? How else do cages get smashed? How else will we stand on our own feet?

A postscript on Ryan: Ryan did recover, but he was left permanently blind. His girlfriend Kelly stayed by his side through his recovery, and they soon married. I’m happy to say that we all became good friends. Ryan had an indomitable spirit that infected everyone he met. He used to say that he suspected God had chosen him to be wounded, rather than someone else, because He knew he could bear it. If so, it was an excellent choice, for Ryan inspired many others to deal with their own handicaps as he dealt with his. He went hunting with the help of friends and special devices. His wound inspired the logo Chris would later use for his company; it was a way for Chris to continue honoring him. Ryan and his wife were expecting their first child in 2009 when Ryan went into the hospital for what seemed like a routine operation, part of follow-up treatment for his wounds. Tragically, he ended up dying. I remember looking at his wife at the funeral, so brave yet so devastated, and wondering to myself how we could live in such a cruel world. My enduring vision of Ryan is outside one of the hospitals where he was recovering from an operation. He was in his wheelchair with some of the Team guys. Head bandaged and clearly in pain, he asked to be pointed toward the American flag that flew in the hospital yard; once there, he held his hand up in a long and poignant salute, still a patriot.

O that today you would hearken to his voice! —Psalm 95:7 (RSV) MARIA, INSPIRATION BEHIND HOLY ANGELS HOME Maria was nine in 1965 when I first wrote about her, a bright, little girl with an impish smile. Born hydrocephalic, without legs, a “vegetable” who could not survive, she’d dumbfounded experts and become the inspiration behind a home for infants with multiple handicaps. Now I was back at Holy Angels in North Carolina to celebrate Maria’s fiftieth birthday. I had to trot to keep up with Maria’s motorized wheelchair through a maze of new buildings, home now for adults as well as infants. At each stop, Maria introduced me to staff and volunteers who simply exuded joy. And yet the people they were caring for had such cruel limitations! How could everyone seem so happy, I asked, working day after day with people who’ll never speak, never hold a spoon, never sit up alone? “None of us would be happy,” Maria said, “if we looked way off into the future like that.” Here, she explained, they looked for what God was doing in each life, just that one day. “That’s where God is for all of us, you know. Just in what’s happening right now.” How intently one would learn to look, I thought, to spot the little victories. In my life too…. What if I memorized just the first stanza of Millay’s “Renascence”? What if I understood just one more function on my iPhone? What if just one morning I didn’t comment about my husband’s snoring? “Thank you, Maria,” I said as we hugged good-bye, “for showing me the God of the little victories.” Through what small victory, Father, will You show me Yourself today? —Elizabeth Sherrill Digging Deeper: Ps 118:24; Mt 6:34

a dementia sufferer effuses delight and notices very different things when taken out in her wheelchair. Such people can teach us to see again the little things that make a big difference. They can show us how to enjoy familiar environments with fresh new eyes.

Almost everyone who experienced disability and who had been the subject of a feature story (and a vast percentage of people considered "truly disabled" had been profiled in their local newspapers or on their local TV news programs) had found reporters turning their accounts of bigotry, social ostracism, prejudice, discrimination into stories of inspiration and overcoming, either glossing over  -- or never noticing  -- aspects of the story that knit it into the larger fabric of nationwide disability discrimination. A story a wheelchair user told a reporter about being denied job after job ended up not as a piece on the issue of job discrimination but a feature on the pluckiness of the disabled jobseeker.

Despite Old Leatherman’s mystique, Edward Payson Weston was probably America’s most famous pedestrian. In 1860, he bet his friend that Abraham Lincoln wouldn’t win the presidency. In 1861, he walked nearly five hundred miles, from Boston to Washington, DC, for Lincoln’s inauguration, arriving a few hours late but in time to attend the inaugural ball. He launched his pro career a few years later, walking thirteen hundred miles from Portland, Maine, to Chicago in twenty-six days. Two years later he walked five thousand miles for $25,000. Two years after that, the showman walked backward for two hundred miles. He competed in walking events against the best in Europe. Once, in his old age, he staged a New York to San Francisco one-hundred-day walk, but he arrived five days late. Peeved, he walked back to New York in seventy-six days. He told a reporter he wanted to become the “propagandist for pedestrianism,” to impart the benefits of walking to the world. A devout pedestrian, he preached walking over driving. Unfortunately, he was seriously injured in 1927 when a taxicab crashed into him in New York, confining him in a wheelchair for the remainder of his life.

What Motivated Me To Write My 5th Book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope" by Beth Praed When my neurologist told me that my MS would eventually be fatal for me, I was depressed and angry. The reason for being depressed is obvious. But the anger? I was mad at God! How could He let this happen to me! I had been working on a devotional book about living with a disease. But when I received the latest diagnosis from her, I shelved the book and didn't write again for a year and a half. And then, I had a dream about my funeral. In that dream, I could see my body in a casket. Then the "dream minister" began his homily. He mentioned how "God gave Beth her first book on MS in a series of dreams. That book became the top book on multiple sclerosis for six years at Amazon. But the book for which she is best remembered is her devotional about disease." When I woke up, I remembered the dream. It was then that I realized that the dream minister was talking about this book! So, I started writing again. Maybe it was just some wacky dream! But my dear friend Jim didn't think so. He once said to me, "If I am ever flying on a plane sometime, and you have a dream that my plane crashed, guess what? I would cancel the flight!" Jim unfortunately died before the devotional book about disease was published, but I do believe that he knows. So now my 5th book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope", has been published by CrossLink Publishing and is available. But mainly I am so grateful to God for giving me the motivation to finish writing the book. It probably wouldn't have happened otherwise if He hadn't given me that dream. Multiple Sclerosis has robbed me of absolutely everything. I have gone from doing daily kick boxing to now being in a wheelchair. But if this book helps other people who are suffering from a serious disease, then my life will have had some purpose and I am so grateful for this opportunity to speak to other individuals who are also suffering.

Motivation To Write My Book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope" When my neurologist told me that my MS would eventually be fatal for me, I was depressed and angry. The reason for being depressed is obvious. But the anger? I was mad at God! How could He let this happen to me! I had been working on a devotional book about living with a disease. But when I received the latest diagnosis from her, I shelved the book and didn't write again for a year and a half. And then, I had a dream about my funeral. In that dream, I could see my body in a casket. Then the "dream minister" began his homily. He mentioned how "God gave Beth her first book on MS in a series of dreams. That book became the top book on multiple sclerosis for six years at Amazon. But the book for which she is best remembered is her devotional about disease." When I woke up, I remembered the dream. It was then that I realized that the dream minister was talking about this book! So, I started writing again. Maybe it was just some wacky dream! But my dear friend Jim didn't think so. He once said to me, "If I am ever flying on a plane sometime, and you have a dream that my plane crashed, guess what? I would cancel the flight!" Jim unfortunately died before the devotional book about disease was published, but I do believe that he knows. So now my 5th book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope", has been published by CrossLink Publishing and is available. But mainly I am so grateful to God for giving me the motivation to finish writing the book. It probably wouldn't have happened otherwise if He hadn't given me that dream. Multiple Sclerosis has robbed me of absolutely everything. I have gone from doing daily kick boxing to now being in a wheelchair. But if this book helps other people who are suffering from a serious disease, then my life will have had some purpose and I am so grateful for this opportunity to speak to other individuals who are also suffering.

What Motivated Me To Write My 5th Book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope" by Beth Praed When my neurologist told me that my MS would eventually be fatal for me, I was depressed and angry. The reason for being depressed is obvious. But the anger? I was mad at God! How could He let this happen to me! I had been working on a devotional book about living with a disease. But when I received the latest diagnosis from her, I shelved the book and didn't write again for a year and a half. And then, I had a dream about my funeral. In that dream, I could see my body in a casket. Then the "dream minister" began his homily. He mentioned how "God gave Beth her first book on MS in a series of dreams. That book became the top book on multiple sclerosis for six years at Amazon. But the book for which she is best remembered is her devotional about disease." When I woke up, I remembered the dream. It was then that I realized that the dream minister was talking about this book! So, I started writing again. Maybe it was just some wacky dream! But my dear friend Jim didn't think so. He once said to me, "If I am ever flying on a plane sometime, and you have a dream that my plane crashed, guess what? I would cancel the flight!" Jim unfortunately died before the devotional book about disease was published, but I do believe that he knows. So now my 5th book, "So You Have a Disease: Devotions and Stories To Restore Hope", has been published by CrossLink Publishing and is available. But mainly I am so grateful to God for giving me the motivation to finish writing the book. It probably wouldn't have happened otherwise if He hadn't given me that dream. Multiple Sclerosis has robbed me of absolutely everything. I have gone from doing daily kick boxing to now being in a wheelchair. But if this book helps other people who are suffering from a serious disease, then my life will have had some purpose and I am so grateful for this opportunity to speak to other individuals who are also suffering.

What is Cerebral Palsy? A wheelchair, a woman, windswept legs, stiffness. And through one side of my body, lack of mobility, and tightness in my knees. That’s all causes by a condition called Cerebral Palsy according to the CDC Cerebral Palsy (CP)- is a group of disorders that affect a person's ability to move and maintain balance and posture. CP is the most common motor disability in childhood. Cerebral means having to do with the brain. Palsy means weakness or problems with using the muscles. But that’s not my definition of Cerebral Palsy my definition of cerebral palsy ce·re·bral pal·sy A condition that makes life more interesting, more of an adventure and more of a journey. You see I could have started this off by stating the old boring medical terms of Cerebral Palsy, but in my personal opinion it would be continuing the stigma’s that I’ve been trying to debunk since I was 18 years old and wouldn’t that be a boring book to read. To be frank, I’m tired of seeing books that don’t focus on the positive side of Cerebral Palsy. Well, OK at least some do, but there’s not very much, so I’ve decided to write this full of stories to explain how I overcome each obstacle with Cerebral Palsy. My name is Tylia L Flores. I’m Handi-capable!

People with deformities are especially quick to connect with Bandit, Brownfield says, because of his. “One day we were in the hospital and a little girl was in a wheelchair, and Bandit came up and put his paw on her lap. She grabbed it and turned to her father, this big burly marine, and said, ‘See, Dad? I'll be OK. Bandit has a deformity and he's still a hero. Her dad just started sobbing.

The thought of being able to [move my arms] made me want to give up my legs [instead] since I was accustomed to using them. But, I figured that after a few hours of sitting in a wheelchair...I would switch back...in a flash.

YouTube is awesome changed my life, YouTube is more than just cat videos, For Creators its an ecosystem no matter the channel size everyone works together. these past 9 months I went from 42 to a 34 waist, stop using my wheelchair plus met awesome friends

You can't tell me you haven't been lifting,” Bailey said. “I can tell. You may have a naturally good physique, but you're shredded. You've got serious size and you're hardened down.” This coming from a kid who'd never lifted a weight in his life, Ambrose thought, shaking his head and pushing another tray of cupcakes into the oven. Yeah, cupcakes. “So what's the point? I mean, you've got this amazing body–big, strong. You just going to keep it to yourself? You gotta share it with the world, man.” “If I didn't know better, I would think you were hitting on me,” Ambrose said. “Do you stand naked in front of the mirror and flex every night? I mean, really, at least go into the adult film industry. At least it won't go completely to waste.” “There you go again . . . talking about things you know nothing about,” Ambrose said. “Fern reads romance novels and you are suddenly Hugh Hefner. I don't think either of you has room to lecture me about anything.” “Fern's been lecturing?” Bailey sounded surprised and not at all offended that Ambrose had basically told him he didn't know jack crap because he was in a wheelchair. “Fern's been leaving inspirational quotes,” Ambrose said. “Ahhh. That sounds more like Fern. Like what? Just Believe? Dream big? Marry me?

Have you been caring to all your children? Will they take you than be at old folks' den? Will they feel honored pushing your wheelchair? Will hearts break when your breath runs out of spare?