When the beautiful and impressive memorial to Franklin and Eleanor Roosevelt was being constructed in Washington about ten years ago, some disabled people protested that the statue of the president, prominently placed in the memorial, carefully concealed his wheelchair. The protestors felt that there was not a proper recognition given to his debilitating polio-induced paralysis.

Franklin Roosevelt provided monumental leadership to our country through two of the most dangerous crises of its history: the inner threat of economic collapse in the depression of the 1930's and the threat from without in the destructive might of the Axis powers in World War II. F.D.R.'s courage, his skills in politics and communication, and his rare talent in the wielding of power were not so much in spite of his disability. They were much more the result of his disabilities. He was the prime example of the propriety of eliminating the reference to disabled people as "handicapped." Here was a man in many ways enabled by his disablement. Make no mistake, though, the disability was massive, even if it was minimized in public appearances until, a few days before his death, he came to Congress to report on the Yalta Conference and apologized for using his wheelchair to save carrying "a lot of steel" in the braces he needed for standing.

A whole host of people have been inspired by the late President's example, and their courage deserves recognition in the clear depiction of his disability in a grateful nation's memorial.

A Londoner named George Thomas was another who refused to be a lesser person because of his disabilities. The victim of a progressive muscular atrophy that made most of his body useless, Thomas' mind was unaffected, and he wrote a book called, My Mind a Kingdom, in which he wrote: "I have not found life a great adventure, but mostly an unbearable trial, and the only thing I know for certain is that I have to go on. I have often thought of giving up the struggle, but as long as I can do anything at all I must do it. And so it comes about that I enjoy most things, even the fight."

General William Booth of the Salvation Army, when he found after a serious operation the he would not see again, said, "I have done what I could for God and for the people with my eyes. Now I shall do for God and for the people what I can without my eyes."

The courage and faith of Gideon come to mind, as he trimmed his army from 22,000 to 10,000, and then down to 300 poorly armed but faithful men, who completely routed the Midianites. There is David, too, with his slingshot and five smooth stones against the might and armor of Goliath, or the apostle Paul, unable to be relieved of his tormenting "thorn in the flesh," but being the Lord's mighty minister because he found how true God's promise is: "My grace is sufficient for you, and my strength is made perfect in weakness."

Most of us will never have to contend with the crippling disabilities suffered by Franklin Roosevelt or George Thomas. None of us, however, will be spared weaknesses of limbs and senses, crushing losses of people most dear, disappointments, and cherished dreams that dissolve in the passage of time. We can choose to make enablements of these disabilities, letting them call up our courage rather than writing our resignation from life and service. We will need all the strength that Jesus found when he chose to drink the cross' bitter cup, the same strength that the writer of Psalm 73 found: "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire other than you. My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (Psalm 73:21,25-26)