It was an amazing trip, an amazing dream. God gave me the ability each day to compete for Him.
If I ever had the opportunity to participate again, I decided, I would do some things differently. I had been so focused on the competition I hadn’t taken time to make friends. I didn’t give this much thought until I returned home. It isn’t always easy to find the right balance.
In a very real sense, the medals I won are worthless. But when I share my faith with others, now that is pure gold. If back on that June day I did not swim my race, how many opportunities to share God’s love would I have missed?
Receiving a silver medal, 1984
Swimming the backstroke
2. International Adventures
Nightmare in Belgium
“No, you don’t understand. You are going to allow all of us on the plane and you are going to assist us.” The coach was taking slow, controlled breaths in an attempt to keep his voice at a reasonable level.
We were returning home from Belgium, where I’d refereed at the 1993 World Boccia Competition. It was great to meet up with my brother Dan, who was there working at the Operation Mobilization office. He was able to join me in Antwerp and when I travelled to Brussels. When it was time for me to return home, he secured my wheelchair in a large crate to ensure it would reach Canada in one piece. Since I didn’t think I’d need it, I left my local currency with him. Not the smartest move ever.
The weather was a problem in Brussels, and we’d been on and off planes several times in hopes that it would clear. It’s hard enough for people without disabilities, but factor in our struggles with mobility and the fact that our wheelchairs were unavailable and you have the makings of a nightmare.
“Oh no!”
I looked out the window at the Brussels airport and saw the snow falling. They received an inch and a half, and by 6:00 all flights were cancelled.
“And what happens now?” the coach asked an airline official.
“Let me see what I can do.”
He soon returned and informed us that they would put us up in a local hotel for the night.
“Good. Because we can’t stay here.”
“And to make it easier, you can take one of the wheelchairs from the airport.”
The coach’s mouth dropped open. “One? You’re kidding me, right?”
“No, sir. That’s all we feel we can spare.” He spread his arms, lifted his hands palms up, and shrugged his shoulders. “Is there a problem?”
“Do you not realize these eight men and women,” the coach gestured in our direction, “are unable to stand on their own?”
“Let me check again,” the airport employee said.
“You do that.”
The airline did allow us to borrow more chairs, but there weren’t enough for all of us.
When we arrived at the hotel, the coach told us to wait where we were. He would go in and check on the accommodations. He was back in less than 10 minutes. He was shaking his head and mumbling all the way back to van.
“You are not going to believe this.”
“Just tell us what’s going on.”
“They gave our rooms away and had no rooms available—none.”
“Then what are we going to do? Spend the night at the airport?”
I shivered. I was tired. And I was cold.
“They gave me directions to another hotel.”
“Let’s hope they have room for us.”
“Let’s hope.”
We pulled to a stop outside a hotel in an older section of the city. The good news was that they had vacancies.
“Thank goodness.”
But before I could get too excited, I realized they had only one elevator—a very small elevator. So, to end the day’s adventure, Jen, my personal assistant for that trip, had to prop me up against the wall, press the button for our floor, and charge up the stairs with the wheelchair so she could be there when the door opened.
“You really should get some sleep,” Jen said when we were settled in our room.
“I know, but I really want to get in touch with Mom and Dad and let them know what happened. I don’t want them going to the airport before they have to.”
I spent a couple of hours trying to get through until I was just too tired to even punch in the numbers.
We had to be up early so we could be back at the airport in time.
“This is not happening,” I said when I learned one of the boccia players had slept in and we would have to wait for her. I was more than ready to go home.
I thought back to our accommodations in Antwerp. Because there wasn’t an airport in Antwerp, we had to fly into Brussels. The facility we stayed in was actually an institution for the disabled and had strict policies. We were not allowed to make or receive phone calls, and the doors were locked precisely at 8:00 p.m. There weren’t even crash bars that would allow us to exit in case of emergency. My assistant had to crawl out the window—in her white pants, no less—in order to walk Lego, my service dog and constant companion. At least our experience in Belgium wasn’t so bad in comparison.
I felt Jen’s hand on my shoulder and heard her calling me back to the present. “Deb, Deb...you in there?” she asked.
“I was just thinking back over the trip.”
“Ready to get home?”
I nodded.
Thankfully, we got to the airport in time. In fact, we were escorted past other passengers and taken by elevator directly to our gate. That was when we were informed they would only take one disabled person per flight. The coach would have none of it.
When we arrived in Paris, they gave us a calling card so we could contact our families. I finally got through to Mom—at 4:00 in the morning. It was 10:00 a.m. local time.
“Mom, I’m sorry to wake you.”
“Is everything all right?”
“It is now, but we’re still in Paris.”
“What happened?” I could hear the concern in her voice.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home. I just wanted to let you know. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Jen hung up the phone for me. “Tammy,” I said to a fellow boccia player, “you don’t have to call home.”
She shrugged. “Why?”
“Your dad and brother are sleeping at my parents’ house.” I laughed. “Seems they didn’t know what to do when we didn’t show up at the London airport, so they went to my house.”
Tammy and her mom looked at each other and laughed.
Paris really is a beautiful city, and we had five hours to kill. It would have helped if I’d kept some of my money. Thank goodness the airline picked up our restaurant tab. Although we didn’t get to see the city, customs did stamp our passport. I can at least say I’ve been there. By 3:00 that afternoon