Category: Articles

Categories
Student Profiles

CMU student recognized with Terry Fox Humanitarian Award

NickCzehrynEditedMost children haven’t even heard the word hemophilia, let alone know what it means. But at a young age, Nick Czehryn became familiar with the hereditary genetic disorder—which impairs the body’s ability to control blood clotting—because his father has it.

As a result, Czehryn and his family have been long-time volunteers with the Hemophilia Society’s Manitoba chapter. He can recall being nine or 10 years old, helping the society set up charity races.

His work with the Hemophilia Society is one of the reasons Czehryn was recognized earlier this year with a Terry Fox Humanitarian Award, which aims to encourage Canadian youth who strive to emulate Terry Fox’s courage and determination by providing their communities and those in need with humanitarian service.

Czehryn’s volunteer work doesn’t end with the Hemophilia Society. He is involved with the worship band at his church, Windsor Park United, where he is also a Sunday School teacher. He has also given his time volunteering for SOAR Heartland, a drop in centre for children, and as a camp counselor and lifeguard at Luther Village.

As a student at Mennonite Brethren Collegiate Institute (MBCI), Czehryn participated in mission trips to Winnipeg’s inner city areas, was a member of Youth in Philanthropy, and was the co-president of the student council. Athletically, Czehryn is an avid soccer player, badminton player, and swimmer.

“I’m really thankful that I ended up getting the Terry Fox award,” says Czehryn, who is currently in his second year of a Psychology degree at Canadian Mennonite University (CMU).

“It’s been a great opportunity, and it’s also made it possible for me to do things like play soccer and get involved in other things because it takes a lot of the financial pressure off. It makes more room for doing more volunteer stuff and athletics, and getting involved in that kind of way.”

After graduating from MBCI in 2012, Czehryn was accepted to a different university, but ultimately chose to come to CMU because it would allow him to play soccer, a sport he’s played since he was five years old.

“It’s been a ton of fun playing on the team. It’s been the best soccer team experience I’ve had in my life.”

Czehryn also enjoys CMU’s community life and small class sizes.

“I really enjoy being in a class where there isn’t 200 people and you’re not a number to the prof—especially in the first and second year courses, it’s been nice to have relationships with the profs, be able to ask questions, and get useful feedback from the get-go,” he says.

“I also like the community aspect of CMU. It’s not come to school, go to class, go home—you can come, you can hang out, you know the people here, and it’s a lot of fun.”

In addition to his school and athletic commitments, Czehryn still makes time to volunteer with the Hemophilia Society. After he graduates from CMU, he plans to go to medical school and become a doctor—a plan that was inspired at least in part by his father’s hemophilia.

When he was young, Czehryn always asked his parents about his father’s blood disorder, wondering things like, “Why is dad different? Why can’t he do certain things?”

That inquisitive nature has stayed with him.

“Through all that learning I did when I was younger, it got me really interested in how the body works … why things don’t work, that kind of stuff,” Czehryn says. “And from there, it just kept building as I’ve grown up.”

“Hopefully after med school I’ll be able to make a difference in some way.”

Categories
Alumni Profiles

CMU alumnus awarded prestigious $50,000 fellowship

Fellowship supports Rebecca Bartel’s PhD work on faith and finance in Colombia

How are people in Colombia formed by finance? What are the hopes of everyday people in their use of credit cards, bank accounts, as well as alternative economic systems, in a country at war?

Those are the questions at the heart of the dissertation Rebecca Bartel is writing to fulfill the requirements of her PhD program in the Department for the Study of Religion and the Center for Diaspora and Transnational Studies at the University of Toronto.

Bartel-[2]“My dissertation is about the soul of finance—the good, the bad, and the structural,” says Bartel, who graduated from CMU in 2001 with a Bachelor of Arts in Music and Theology, with a minor in Political Science. “I am convinced that a road to peace and justice will necessarily consider economics, and more specifically, our financial system.”

This past summer, Bartel became one of 16 inaugural recipients of a Weston Fellowship. Presented by the University of Toronto and The W. Garfield Weston Foundation, the fellowship is dedicated to international experience at the doctoral level. Each recipient was given $50,000 to further their research and broaden their skills and networks in a global setting.

Bartel is currently in Bogotá, Colombia for a year of fieldwork and teaching at the National University of Colombia. She is no stranger to the country, with more than a decade of academic and life experience in Colombia.

During her last year at CMU, Bartel became curious about how “the politics of Jesus” could be, and were being, practiced in the face of armed conflict and the deep injustices in the world.

“I became very concerned with the question of war, why it happened and how it could be resolved, and I decided I wanted to pursue graduate studies in armed conflict resolution in a place where an armed conflict was currently going on,” she says.

Close friends who had spent time in Colombia encouraged Bartel to consider studying there, so she did.

“The experiences of the Colombian Anabaptist churches as beacons of light for justice and peace in the midst of structural and physical violence were an inspiration that I wanted to learn more about,” she says.

Bartel received a Master’s degree in Political Science, which was focused on the political economy of war, as well as a graduate specialization in armed conflict resolution from the Universidad de Los Andes in Bogotá.

During and after her studies, she worked for two years with the Colombian Mennonite Foundation for Development (MENCOLDES) as a Mennonite Church Canada volunteer, and then for four years with Mennonite Central Committee as Policy Analyst and Educator for Latin America and the Caribbean.

For Bartel, studying at CMU was foundational academically as well as personally and spiritually.

“CMU pushed me to take the gospel seriously, put it into action, and seek out the face of Christ in places where darkness and violence seem to prevail,” she says. “CMU taught me that community, simplicity, and critical thinking can pull back the veil of darkness and reveal the illuminating hope of liberating action.”

Bartel hopes to graduate with her PhD in 2015. She would like to land a tenure-track position in a university, begin a study-abroad program to Latin America, and continue writing and teaching on religion and economics.

Bartel realized at CMU that while she may not see the fruits of all the acts of resistance and liberation that churches and communities in Colombia live out each day, her life must be a testimony to the faith that one day, peace with justice shall reign.

“This faith is what pushes us to believe, indeed know, that war will end, and God’s promise of equality, justice, and a life without fear will be real.”

Categories
Alumni Profiles Articles

Royal Canoe guitarist talks about how CMU has shaped his life

RCbubbles-edited
Royal Canoe guitarist Bucky Driedger (bottom left) graduated from CMU in 2007 with a Bachelor of Arts in Social Sciences, with a concentration in Communications.

August 22, 2013 – With its forward-thinking blend of pop, rock, hip hop, dance, soul, and electronic music, as well as its energetic live shows, Royal Canoe has made a name for itself as one of Winnipeg’s most exciting bands.

Two of the band’s singles have reached the Top 5 on CBC Radio 3, they have toured throughout North America and Europe, and they’ve earned praise from venerable publications like The New York Times to blogs like This Music Doesn’t Suck, which described the band’s sound as “a clever blend of aesthetics and genres executed with a confidence and expertise usually reserved for more established groups.”

Bucky Driedger, Royal Canoe’s guitarist, backing vocalist and co-songwriter, sees a clear connection between the work he does in the band and the time he spent on Outtatown in 2002-2003 and then studying at CMU.

“Both were experiences that shaped my worldview and gave me a desire to experience new places and try new things,” says Driedger, who graduated in 2007 with a Bachelor of Arts in Social Sciences, with a concentration in Communications.

He adds that he studied and lived in residence with many creative people who were interested in making music and visual art.

“Being in a culture where my peers valued thinking outside the box really helped me develop my sense of taste and what I value in art,” he says. “Good art should help people . . . imagine a new way of thinking about the world.”

Studying communications gave Driedger an appreciation for the way media and pop culture interact, and the subtleties involved in phrasing a message so that it has a particular impact on its intended audience.

RC-SmallCover
“Today We’re Believers,” Royal Canoe’s new album, is in stores Tuesday, Sept. 3.

CMU also equipped Driedger with some of the tools he uses to help promote the band. While Royal Canoe has a manager, booking agents, and record label support, each member is actively involved with every aspect of the business side of the music industry, from graphic design, to photo shoots, to booking tours, to writing press releases and updates for the band’s website.

“Gone are the days when you can be a mad genius in your basement, get discovered by a major record label, and have everyone do everything for you,” he says. “You need to have copywriters and booking agents in your band.”

While at CMU, Driedger sang in choir. Growing up in the Mennonite Church, he saw what an important part music plays in Mennonite culture.

“From a young age, I learned to value thoughtful music-making,” he says.

The intricate composition and harmony Driedger and his bandmates witnessed in church has made its way into Royal Canoe’s sound. Some of the group’s songs have a classical music feel, and at any given moment, four of the band’s six members could be singing at the same time, weaving different harmonies together behind the melody.

This fall, Royal Canoe will spend three-and-a-half months touring throughout North America and Europe in support of its second full-length album, Today We’re Believers, which hits stores on Sept. 3. Driedger is excited to see how people respond to the album, which the band worked on for the better part of three years.

“We put a lot of thought into every tone and lyric,” he says. “They’re not just throwaway [songs]. They all represent really important moments in our lives.”

Royal Canoe will celebrate the release of Today We’re Believers with two shows in Winnipeg this week: An all ages show at the Park Theatre tonight (Thursday, Aug. 22), and an 18+ show at Union Sound Hall tomorrow (Friday, Aug. 23). For details, and to hear the band’s music, visit www.royalcanoe.com.

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Man with spina bifida just wants ‘a little respect’

Mifflin-Version3
Twenty-seven-year-old Michael Mifflin was born with spina bifida, a condition that has left him paralyzed below the waist.

Disrespect is nothing new for Michael Mifflin, who was born with spina bifida.

In high school in Winnipeg, he was shoved into lockers and had his canes stolen and hidden by other students.

As an adult, he navigates public transit with canes and a wheelchair, an effort sometimes greeted with impatient eye-rolling and complaints from comfortably-seated transit users.

Mifflin’s birth defect left several spinal vertebrae deformed, consequently exposing and damaging parts of the spinal cord. This resulted in limited brain signals to muscles and body organs below the damaged area.

Mifflin is paralyzed below the waist, a condition that does not improve with age.

 “With age, it gets you,” he says. “It’s catching up to me. Most doctors are surprised to hear that I’m 27 and I’m still around. Doctors said that I shouldn’t have made the age of 2 because of my disability.”

Frequent bullying in high school prompted Mifflin to drop out before graduation. He is currently taking the remaining classes required to obtain the high school diploma that he was denied by a misinformed student body.

Mifflin says even those who intend to help are ignorant to what physically disabled people truly need. He says those who wish to assist him when his wheelchair is stuck, or when he is trying to fit his wheelchair into the locks on a bus, do not understand that people with disabilities require a degree of independence.

 “Many people just assume that I need the help when I don’t,” Mifflin explains. “All I want is a little respect. If you see I’m having trouble, it’s OK to help, but ask first.”

Cory Funk, former respite worker and Summer Program Director for Camps With Meaning, affirms Mifflin’s desire for independence. In an interview, Funk describes working with a man with cerebral palsy.

Mifflin1-Edited
Mifflin’s girlfriend, Emily Wiebe, says the most important aspect of accommodating people with disabilities is accepting them.

 “Respecting [the person’s] autonomy is huge,” Funk says.

“A lot of people with disabilities, their goal is to be as independent as possible. When interacting with someone with a physical disability, whether in a working environment or on the streets, it’s important to understand that they’re pursuing that independence.”

The pursuit of independence is evident with Mifflin, who asks little of others (besides respect), and is highly active in the local power wheelchair hockey scene.

His team, The Red Bulls, is currently 18-0 in the Manitoba Power Wheelchair Hockey Association. Mifflin plays power forward and has been a significant part of the team’s success over the last eight seasons.

He has also taken part in wheelchair basketball and sledge hockey.

These modified sports provide a sense of independence for participants, and illustrate that physically disabled people are capable of doing things for themselves.

Mifflin claims that attitude changes are the main force in achieving respect for disabled people.

“Attitudes are truly the biggest disability of all. People need to change attitudes towards people like myself if disabled people stand a chance to be properly integrated into society.”

Though there is legislation and other structures in place to help the physically disabled in Winnipeg, Mifflin’s girlfriend, Emily Wiebe, says the most important aspect of accommodation is the acceptance of others.

“You can modify a building to be accessible all you want, but if you have a negative attitude toward the disabled, then it isn’t really all that helpful,” Wiebe says.

“The biggest barrier is not an inaccessible building—it is an inaccessible attitude.”

Michael Wiebe is a student at Canadian Mennonite University and the brother of Emily Wiebe, the girlfriend of Michael Mifflin. Michael Wiebe wrote this article as part of his work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Confessions of a gay Mennonite

voices

By Laura Tait

(Writer’s note: Identifying details in this article have been changed because the subject is not publicly open about his sexual orientation.)

In addition to being smart, funny, politically conservative, and an entrepreneur, Jude is also same-sex oriented, a secret he has kept from his parents and most of his community.

Now living in Winnipeg, this 25-year-old Mennonite man from Winkler, Man., has a shy and humble nature, evident in his composure as he sits in a coffee shop for an interview.

Family has always been important for Jude, who works with his parents in the family business. However, there is a tension he holds with his family that he believes can never be reconciled.

“My parents are the only people I’ve ever wanted to please, but they’re also people that can never totally accept me for who I am,” Jude says.

Jude finds himself stuck between not relating completely to his community in Winkler, and not relating with modern “gay culture.” This dichotomy has put a strain on Jude as he tries to navigate these dual lives—being “out” in his personal life, and “in” in his family and professional life.

Much of the motivation for hiding his sexual orientation comes from the stigma against same-sex orientation he sensed while growing up in Winkler.

He has no intention of ever telling his school or church friends from Winkler about his sexual orientation because he believes he would not be received kindly.

“In Mennonite families, shaming is a big business,” Jude says. “Some places have drive-by shootings, Winkler has drive-by shamings. Saying nothing about it means less shaming than acknowledging what people might suspect.”

Jude feels it’s the prospect of being shamed that colours much of his family’s prejudice against same-sex oriented people. The thought of their own son being one of these people would cause them anxiety: what would people at church think? For Jude, trying to tell his family something they don’t want to know isn’t worth the tears, hurt, and denial.

“Your parents say they’ll love you no matter what, but the thought of them knowing something like this makes me wonder, do they really?” Jude says.

Another aspect framing his family’s prejudice against same-sex oriented people is stereotypical, flamboyant “gay culture,” which Jude has no interested in being associated with.

Jude laments how LGBT Pride parades, that used to be respectable political protests, have turned into flashy displays of scantily clad folks dancing atop floats.

For Jude, maintaining a bit of humour is important. From when his mother asks him about any women in his life, to dealing with people associated with the kind of “gay culture” he wants to avoid, his mantra remains: “If you don’t laugh, you cry.”

While many same-sex oriented people often feel isolated from the church and their faith, this does not describe Jude’s experience. He finds comfort in a church congregation in Winnipeg that he feels is more accepting of his orientation.

He believes stigma against same-sex oriented persons is a product of a history informed by human beings, and not one of God.

Laura Tait is a student at Canadian Mennonite University. She wrote this article as part of her work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.

 

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Homeless teen encounters judgment and ridicule

shane-claiborne-EXPORTED
Christian activist and author Shane Claiborne advocates with the poor so that their voices are heard. 

 

voices

By Carter Brooks

At first glance, Shane Claiborne and Arika Fraser have little in common.

Claiborne, 37, is from Tennessee, is a popular author, and is in demand as a speaker in Christian circles.

Fraser, 15, lives in inner-city Winnipeg and sleeps under parked cars on nights when there is no better option.

What they have in common is poverty.

Claiborne’s experience with service to the poor is famously recounted in his book The Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical. He spent 10 weeks living in the slums of Calcutta with Mother Teresa. He made his own clothing and carried no possessions with him during that time.

He has since become a Christian activist, a leading figure in the New Monasticism movement, and a founding member of The Simple Way in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

In a telephone interview, Claiborne said he re-learned the concept of true love from Mother Teresa, how she based all of her decisions on love, and love alone.

Proverbs 31:8 instructs us: “Speak out on behalf of the voiceless, and for the rights of all who are vulnerable.” Those living in the poorest areas of Calcutta can easily be classified as voiceless, but Claiborne challenges us to know someone at a deeper level before we write them off.

“We think it is our job to stand up in their place, rather than standing with them and helping them project their own voice,” he says.

“They are struggling, they have wants and desires too, but more importantly, they have needs. Shelter, clothing, food, and water—that is what it comes down to.”

According to Statistics Canada, about one in 10 Canadians live in poverty. Statistics show that 882,000 Canadians used food banks monthly in 2012. Thirty-eight percent of those helped were children.

Fraser can occasionally be found at Agape Table, a soup kitchen in Winnipeg, Manitoba. She believes it is important for the voices of inner-city youth to be heard.

She and her older brother, Jordin, have lived in the hardscrabble neighbourhood of Winnipeg’s North End for the past three years. Through intensely hot summers and chilling winters, Fraser and her brother overnighted in bus shelters, dumpsters, under trees, and occasionally, under parked cars.

“It doesn’t bother us, really,” Fraser says. “I’ve learned how to tune out the noise and shivering.”

“My momma died when I was born, and [my] brother is all I have left,” she added. “We live on the streets, but no one seems to care.”

Fraser says she and her brother encounter judgment and ridicule every day.

She has deep scars running across her forearms.

“Yes I used to cut. [It was the] only way I [could] deal with things sometimes.”

When informed of Shane Claiborne and his work, Fraser says she appreciates having someone out there advocating with the poor.

“I’m really happy that someone is actually doing what we do and getting to speak out for us. This makes me happy. I want out, and want to talk, but [people] don’t like to listen.”

When she isn’t begging for money or searching for leftover food in the streets, Fraser can be found once a week visiting her mother’s tombstone.

“I do it to stay connected. I’m a person too, I have feelings. I miss momma.”

Claiborne believes we are called to do what God did through Jesus, by standing with people like Fraser.

As Mother Teresa often said, “Calcuttas are everywhere, we just need to have eyes to see.”

Shane Claiborne will speak at Canadian Mennonite University’s (CMU) annual Peace It Together conference October 18-20, 2013. For details, visit www.cmu.ca/pit.

Carter Brooks is a student at CMU. He wrote this article as part of his work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Learning to live with FASD

voices

By Krystofer Penner

Maia was 4 years old when she was diagnosed with fetal alcohol spectrum disorder (FASD). She remembers being confused and upset.

“My mom did what to me? What happened?”

In many ways, the anger the Winnipegger feels toward her mother hasn’t dissipated after more than 30 years.

Up to 80 per cent of children with FASD will not be raised by their biological parents, according to statistics from the Province of Manitoba. They end up in the child welfare system.

Maia was adopted when she was 1 year old, and her adoptive parents decided not to send her back to the adoption organization when she was diagnosed.

FASD is a physical disability that alters the brain of a fetus when a mother drinks alcohol while pregnant. It results in mental, cognitive, and behavioral disabilities.

Maia, for example, has difficulties with multiplication tables and counting money. A handful of change can stump her, and she even has trouble with bills.

“I can only understand multiples of 10,” she explains. “So if I have a five, 10 and 20 dollar bill, I won’t know what to do with the five.”

Like many people with FASD, sensory perception is important to Maia. She has a self-proclaimed obsession with down pillows and blankets, because she loves the way they feel. She often plays with things, such as jingling a pocket full of change, which people may see as rude.

“I need things to fiddle with, otherwise I’d go crazy.”

Academics were difficult for Maia, and she was bullied in school. Boys on her street would chase her, throw things at her, laugh, and call her names. One teenage boy used to pull down her pants and spank her every day.

Another, who also had FASD, raped her. She stopped going outside because she was afraid, and didn’t even know how to explain these things to her parents.

“It was really awful,” she says.

Forming and keeping healthy relationships is also difficult for Maia, a trait common to many people with FASD, according to the Government of Manitoba’s Healthy Child Manitoba website.

People with FASD can be compulsive and friends may feel they are being smothered. Maia says people often think she is stalking them, when in reality she simply does not recognize boundaries.

This often results in friends telling her she can only call on certain days or at certain times. Maia finds this offensive, but understands that people need space.

“It’s just difficult because I don’t have a lot of friends,” she says.

Maia copes with life through art. She writes stories about an alien crew of misfits that travels through the galaxy.

She also enjoys playing the bagpipes.

“I really like the drones and the feeling of the bag under my arm,” she says.

Still, she has difficulty reading music and mustering the required coordination to play the bagpipes, and is considering quitting.

“You try and try to get to the next level, but you can’t.”

A favourite activity is her work with the Manitoba Visions and Voices program, which lets Maia speak in schools about her disability. She doesn’t want other children to suffer the challenges of FASD because their mother didn’t know, or care.

“It’s like a life sentence for nothing,” Maia says. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Krystofer Penner is a student at Canadian Mennonite University. He wrote this article as part of his work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.

 

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Church helps single mom escape abuse

 

voices

By Rebecca Kuhn

 

Every morning in Jessica Burridge’s house begins with dancing. Accompanied by her children, Dakota, 6, Danika, 4, and Dawson, 3, with music recorded by Justin Bieber, the family begins each day with joy.

However, life hasn’t always been joyful for the 21-year-old single mother.

She grew up in a home where her father was a “booze hound” who abused her mother in front of their six children. Her parents eventually split, leaving Burridge’s mother alone to raise six children.

At 14 years old, Burridge began using drugs. She became addicted to cocaine, and stopped caring about school and taking care of herself.

At 15, she became pregnant.

At 16, she joined the Teen Moms Group at Douglas Mennonite Church in Winnipeg. This group provided mentors to support her, but even so, things got more difficult.

“I was in a bad relationship [and] I still did drugs every now and then,” she says.

Burridge remained in this relationship for four years, even though her boyfriend abused her. Sherri Miller, director of the Teen Mom program, steered her toward 1 Corinthians 13:4-7and told her that when she considered returning to her abusive partner, she should first read the verses about love being patient and kind.

“Those verses are what kept me strong enough to stay away.”

But it was difficult on her own. At one point, Burridge told her mother she couldn’t do it anymore, but no help was forthcoming.

“She would always say, ‘I raised six of you by myself, you only have half of what I had,” Burridge recalls.“I felt like I was useless. I mean, I’m nothing in society, right? I was just scum, and I knew I had to do something better with myself.”

Burridge was accepted into a young mothers’ program to complete high school and perhaps go to post-secondary studies, but when mysterious bumps appeared on her youngest son’s head, her plans changed quickly.

At a hospital emergency room, doctors told her Dawson’s skull was fractured and authorities would take her children on suspicion of abuse.

The next day, two detectives took her to a police station for interrogation. At the station, she got a phone call from her sister, saying Burridge’s children were being removed from her care.

For three months, Burridge lived in her house alone, without her children. She says she considered suicide.

“It was the worst time of my life.It was either I die and I don’t have my kids anyways, or I fight to get them home, and prove to everybody that I am innocent.”

From the first allegations of child abuse, Burridge asked for a lie detector test to prove her innocence, even though her lawyer advised against it. She took the test and passed.

She also completed court-ordered programs and, finally, a judge allowed the return of her children.

In September, Burridge will begin studying an electrical program at a Winnipeg technical school. Her goal: “Become a somebody, and not a nobody.”

Burridge is grateful for support from her mentors at Douglas Mennonite Church, saying it’s like they have adopted her and her children. She refers to one of her mentors as “the Mom I never had.”

Rebecca Kuhn is a student at Canadian Mennonite University. She wrote this article as part of her work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.

 

 

 

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: MCC volunteer recounts life-long challenges

By Bethany Daman

The accident that came to shape Lisa’s life happened three months after her first birthday. She was run over by a car.

“The front and back wheel went over my head,” Lisa said. “My eyes were pushed out and my ear was almost cut off—it was just hanging by a little bit of skin. I was unconscious for 32 days and the doctors said there was no hope I would make it.”

She beat the odds and went on to a productive life as a Mennonite Central Committee volunteer and Sunday School teacher for 30 years.

But it wasn’t easy. Lisa, who asked that her identity not be disclosed, suffered a life of challenges that resulted from the accident when she was a baby.

She was born in 1951 in southern Manitoba, growing up in a town of only 4,000 people. She started school with everyone her age but, by Grade 8, classes became too difficult for her to continue. Times of dark discouragement came as she grew older and saw her life was different from those around her, particularly in the way she processes her thoughts and relates to others.

“I would see what my [younger] sister was doing, and I felt that I should be doing the same thing. It bothered me immensely.”

Lisa became the poster child in her family as “the girl who had the accident”.

Eventually she moved to Winnipeg and began a cafeteria job. After about five years, she attended Bible school, receiving her Sunday School and Clubs teaching certificate. She returned home, found a job and got married in 1974.

Life’s pain had not ended, however, as she became pregnant in 1977 and labor complications arose. “[My daughter] was all blue when they took her out. Then they said ‘something is wrong, she is not breathing.’ I can still see them pumping air into her as I was on the stretcher. They said [my baby] was a girl, but they had to rush her off.”

The daughter’s esophagus and windpipe were not fully developed, making eating and breathing difficult. Four months after birth, the child continued to vomit when fed, leaving tube feeding as the only option.

After 13 months in the hospital, the family was finally able to go home, where Lisa had to tube feed her daughter.

“It was an awful struggle. I had to feel on her stomach whether the feeding tube had gone down her stomach and not into her lungs. If it had gone into her lungs, this would be the end of it. She would fight it with me so terribly.”

The child became malnourished, leaving her mother discouraged.

“I felt I was doing such a rotten job in trying to look after her. I just felt awful.”

As Lisa faced the daily challenge of feeding her daughter, she found hope in scripture.

“I had her sitting in the high chair and then with every spoon, I quoted, ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.’”

Finally her daughter began eating solid food, but frequent hospital visits continued.

Also, life in the family home grew difficult and the marriage between Lisa and her husband fell apart.

Despite everything she has faced, Lisa has impacted young lives through three decades as a Sunday School teacher and she has spent numerous hours volunteering at the local MCC Thrift Store. Much of her days are now spent tying blankets that are used in MCC relief kits.

Lisa has proved it is possible to make it through the grimmest circumstances as she faces everything that comes her way with a renewed spirit of strength and trust, knowing she will be protected.

Bethany Daman is a student at Canadian Mennonite University. She wrote this article as part of her work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community

Categories
Articles Student Projects

Voices of the Voiceless: Pro athletes ‘adopt’ man with disability

By Julia Sisler

On any given summer day, you will find 22-year-old David Leitch on the Winnipeg Blue Bombers practice field, receiving passes from quarterbacks, joking with coaches or giving interviews to local media. His name is not on the roster but he has a unique place in the heart of the Canadian Football League team.

Leitch was born with spina bifida. It means his spinal cord did not form properly before he was born, and he will always use a wheelchair.

A string of surgeries began at birth, but his battles were more than physical. He doesn’t know who his father is, his mother wrote him off as “useless” because of his disorder, and he suffered extreme physical and emotional abuse at the hands of his grandmother, who was given custody of him.

“I was made to feel like it was my fault for being in a chair,” Leitch says.

He recalls school as a happy place compared to his home life. He remembers only one negative school experience, where he was told by a stranger: “People like you shouldn’t go to school.”

It was during one afternoon of boredom and curiosity in 2009 that his life opened up in a wonderful way.  He visited an open Bombers practice. After meeting a Bomber coach, Richard Harris, Leitch knew the stadium would provide him safe sanctuary.

Leitch’s relationship with the Bombers community grew with his frequent visits to the field. He rode the bus from his home in North Kildonan to the stadium for every practice and game. It was a place where he found love, acceptance, and growth.

With the Bombers on his side, Leitch finds he cares less about society’s perception of him.

“People are pretty good to me. You get the odd guy who might have something negative to say, but generally people are nice.”

He notes relationships with three men in particular: Bombers chaplain Lorne Korol, former quarterback Alex Brink, and wide receiver Aaron Hargreaves, who now plays for the Saskatchewan Roughriders.

Hargreaves describes how Leitch served as a constant sideline reminder of what life is really about.

“During my time in Winnipeg, having David show up to practice day in and day out, shows true character and dedication on his part.”

“Although I no longer play in Winnipeg, David still serves as a source of inspiration for me. His constant determination and hard work in life serves as a great example of how to be not only a better football player, but a better person.”

The impact that Leitch has on the Blue Bombers became evident in spring of 2012. He was diagnosed with pneumonia during training camp and doctors said it might be fatal. During this critical time, the Bombers stepped up for Leitch.

Bombers staff members, coaches, and players were at his bedside repeatedly during his three-week hospital stay. Some shed tears at the thought of losing one of their own.

To the relief of his Bombers friends, Leitch pulled through and made a full recovery.

Leitch’s attitude toward life has changed, thanks to the guys in blue and gold. He credits the Bombers with giving him something to live for—for giving him a place and a purpose.

Although you will never find the name “David Leitch” on any program, he has an important position with the Winnipeg Blue Bombers.

Julia Sisler is a student at Canadian Mennonite University. She wrote this article as part of her work in the course Journalism—Principles and Practices. “Voices of the Voiceless” is a class project that aims to chronicle the humanity of often-ignored people on the margins of our community.