Wilderness moments

Last week my sister and I visited my boys at Purdue. She wanted to know where her nephews live and explore the campus. It was such a fun and beautiful day.

I have wanted to see inside of my dorm since leaving many years ago. It was a tough decision for me to leave Purdue. I felt honored to be accepted there, as I was an average student. Certainly not a standout in the academic world.

The size of the campus led to many physical difficulties. That combined with an unexpected surgery, led me to my decision to leave Purdue and transfer to a smaller college. My kids have heard me tell this story many times. I loved my dorm, Wood Hall, within the Windsor Residence Halls. Whimsical character oozes from that set of buildings. It feels like a different world.

The day we were visiting, my younger son was adamant that we were going to go in and look around. So, he made that happen for me.

I was flooded with memories going through the front door and walking through the common area to my old room, which was conveniently located for me. It was wonderful to finally see it again.

Once back outside, we sat on the front steps and talked. I looked out down the long stretch of road that I walked to class. A wave of sadness and regret washed over me. At the same time, I was in awe that there was a time when, although difficult, I could walk that distance without assistance. When we left, I felt happy I had that moment, but also a little defeated.

I felt disappointed in myself that I had not practiced more persistent patience. I let the rainstorm I got caught up in and left behind, affect me so deeply that it prompted my rash decision to leave there. After that, the other “excuses” easily solidified my decision.

Although quite rocky, that path I took led me to all the right things eventually.

In between my departure and coming to terms with my reality over the course of many years, there were many “wilderness moments.” Moments where I felt completely lost, confused, wandering around out of place. Painfully uncomfortable in my own skin. Anyone else?

Not only was I battling my own insecurities about my body and my walk, but I was also battling others’ opinions and false assumptions about me that I often too easily adopted as my own. Taking their opinions and turning them into my reality.

I was talking with my oldest son the day after we visited. I told him I had such a fun time seeing things up close again. I told him that the glaring loss of physical abilities had hit me hard.

His response was, “Yes, I’m sure it is tough in some ways but also cool to know how much stronger you have become mentally and emotionally.”

As our children often do, he shined perspective on my situation that was impossible for me to deny.

Although I have lost many things, I have gained strengths that I did not have during my times of greater physical strength. Mental and emotional strength were things that I hoped and prayed for but could never quite visualize for myself.

Thanks to my wilderness moments, they are now my reality.

Until next time …

Amy Shinneman is a former National Ambassador for the Muscular Dystrophy Association, disability blogger, freelance writer, wife, and mom of two boys. She is the recipient of the Reporter’s Winter 2025 Ink-Stained Wretch award. You can find her blog at humblycourageous.com and reach her on Instagram @ashinneman.