Crippling illness doesn't have to ruin life

A powerful spirit in a broken body

Seeing Billy Crafts for the first time was a rather shocking experience for a carefree 11 year old. As I watched him lying in his portable bed at the front of the church building, I could see that he was completely paralyzed except for his arms and facial muscles. He was unable even to move his head to look at those who talked with him. It was depressing to wonder what kind of life a person imprisoned in such a body could have and my first impulse was to get away from such a distressing sight.

In spite of my initial fear of Billy, something drew me to him. His hearty laughter as he joked with the group of people gathered around his cot after services indicated that the owner of the wretched body was a happy man who enjoyed life in spite of the painful rheumatoid arthritis that had crippled him. More than anything else, my timidity about Billy was replaced with curiosity when someone told me that he was a ham radio operator. I began to shyly approach Billy's portable bed after church services to see if I could overhear anything about this amazing ham radio business. Before I knew it, he noticed me and asked me to come on over to talk. He began talking to me about his hobby, answering my shy questions with a reassuring smile.

Though it may sound odd for a pre teen to consider a man in his 30's as a best friend, that is exactly the way I came to feel about Billy. We spent many hours together at radio club meetings, at his house talking to people on his radio and after services talking about politics or football.

Being around Billy taught many lessons about love and giving. His ham friends gave him an expensive adjustable hospital bed, ham equipment and other gadgets that made life easier for him. His brethren at Eastside in Athens constantly gave him and his mother vegetables from their gardens, did chores around their house, and showed love and appreciation in countless ways.

Billy was often sick because his paralyzed body could not fight off infection well. However, life seems eternal to teenagers, and I took it for granted that he would always get well. I should have known that his fragile body couldn't last forever. When Jimmy, Billy's brother, interrupted my P.E. class one morning to tell me that Billy had died, I could hardly believe him at first. As the truth dawned on me, I felt numbed. I tried in vain to hide my tears from my teenage companions in the gym. Billy was gone, but though over twenty years have passed since his death, he is often in my thoughts.

Billy's disability limited him in many ways. He never led a song, taught a public class or preached a sermon from the pulpit. He missed numerous services because of flare ups in his arthritis. How short sighted it is, however, to consider that spiritual strength can be measured merely by participation in visible, public acts. In spite of his limitations, Billy's way of dealing with life in his broken body taught powerful lessons about love and courage that remain engraved on the hearts of all who knew him. Two in particular stand out in my mind.

* Special attention given to children and preteens is never wasted. As children and pre adolescents go through their formative years, they need the love and reassurance that can come from caring and loving adults. I think God for Billy and many others like him who followed the example of Jesus and took the time to show love and concern for a short, sometimes mischievous little boy who could be rather annoying at times.

* Life can be meaningful and happy in spite of pain and deformities. A rather embittered man asked me recently how a loving God could allow children to go through life with serious deformities. At first, I sputtered around about not understanding many things about this world, but then I began to think about Billy and the more I thought of him the more confidence I gained in answering the question. I told the gentleman about him. Would it have been better for him not to have lived? Was Billy a proof that there is no such thing as a loving compassionate God? Instead of providing a reason to doubt, Billy's life gave testimony to the power of God to give hope and meaning even to one with a severely crippled body Perhaps Billy's agonizing thorn deepened his character. Perhaps because of it he had a better understanding of the empty promises of this world and clearer vision of heaven.

Though Billy's life was all too short and painful, I don't pity him or feel that he was robbed of happiness. His brief time on this earth was full of hope and meaning because in spite of his disfigured, almost useless body, he had all that really matters: a strong faith in God and sincere love for others.
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