Tuesday’s With Stacy

dancingwithalsandlife.blogspot.com

AI ART,  “Doors Open”

Finding purpose, sharing love, and discovering that sometimes God answers a prayer by sending people right to your front door.

Just like Professor Morrie Schwartz in Mitch Albom’s book Tuesdays with Morrie, I, too, am a person living and dying with ALS.

In this beautifully written book, Tuesday was Morrie’s favorite day of the week. It was the day Mitch Albom, a former college student who had become more like a son than a student, visited him. Together, they discussed what it really means to live a meaningful, compassionate, and intentional life.

Their conversations explored the importance of living authentically rather than getting caught up in societal pressures, materialism, and the endless pursuit of success. They talked about choosing meaningful experiences over accumulating more stuff and, most importantly, making sacrificial love a priority.

Some of the topics they discussed included:

Love and Relationships: Love and human connection are at the heart of a fulfilling life. The more love we give and receive, the more meaningful our lives become.

Death and Dying: Accepting that life is finite can help us appreciate each day and make the most of the time we have.

Forgiveness: Letting go of past hurts and forgiving others—and ourselves—frees us from the weight of resentment.

Aging: Embracing the wisdom that comes with growing older and recognizing that aging can bring richness and perspective, not just decline.

Work and Money: Our worth isn’t measured by our job titles, bank accounts, or material possessions. The quality of our relationships and the impact we have on others matter far more.

Living Authentically: Living with purpose means making choices that reflect who we truly are instead of simply conforming to other people’s expectations.

Those conversations gave Mitch—and countless readers—a different perspective on what it means to truly live.

And now, my Tuesdays with Stacy story begins.

My Own Tuesday Tradition

Mitch, the student and writer, isn’t my weekly visitor. But, just like Morrie, I have a wonderful group of individuals who share my Tuesday mornings and early afternoons with me.

I am so thankful and blessed to have these precious visitors in my life.

Honestly, I suspect Tuesdays with Stacy would never have happened if I hadn’t been diagnosed with ALS. I probably would still be caught up in the daily grind, chasing job satisfaction, meeting expectations, and God knows what else.

Funny how life sometimes takes us somewhere we never planned to go.

Although my body is failing me, I still want to feel that I have a purpose in this world. I’ve written about this in previous blogs, and finding that purpose has been an ongoing journey.

Every six to eight months, I’ve had to return to the drawing board and reevaluate what purpose looks like for me as ALS progresses and my abilities change.

In early spring 2025, I found myself back at that drawing board once again.

My cherished time volunteering at a local nursing home was coming to an end. My unsteady gait had resulted in falls and injuries, and transferring had become a safety concern. I didn’t want to put my drivers or the facility in a difficult position or become a liability.

As much as I loved volunteering, I knew it was time to let go.

And so, once again, the tears began to flow, and the prayers started.

“Dear God, You didn’t design me to live without a sense of purpose. Please help me figure out what comes next.”

What was I supposed to do now?

Technically, I was becoming wheelchair- and housebound. The thought of losing another meaningful activity brought feelings of isolation and, at times, depression.

I knew I still had something to offer, but I couldn’t quite figure out what that was supposed to look like anymore.

When God Answers With a Wink

I wish I could tell you that I am a Christian who lives out her faith with unwavering confidence 100% of the time. But the truth is, I still struggle with relinquishing control.

I want to solve my own problems. I want to figure things out and make things happen.

Trusting God to take care of the details? Well, let’s just say I’m still working on that one!

But I have to share an amazing story with you—one I call a God wink.

In June 2025, God didn’t just answer my prayer. He astonished me by bringing a new sense of purpose right to my front door!

While talking with my neighbor and friend about my dilemma, an opportunity presented itself almost naturally.

My neighbor is the executive director of an organization called EARS, located in Ephrata, Pennsylvania. I’ve been a board member of this organization for a few years.

EARS supports people with intellectual and emotional challenges by providing opportunities that promote independence, dignity, personal choice, quality of life, and self-worth.

The organization helps individuals develop skills, build confidence, and work toward greater independence in their everyday lives.

And somehow, right in the middle of my own struggle to figure out what I could still contribute, an opportunity emerged for me to help others.

Coincidence? Maybe some people would say so.

Me? I’ll call it a God wink.

A Win-Win on Tuesdays

My Tuesday visits have become what I call a win-win.

I get the opportunity to help provide life-skills practice and experiences that can prepare individuals for future employment opportunities. These are wonderful men and women who may need a little extra support, encouragement, and guidance along the way.

And they help me, too.

Every week, a group of three individuals arrives at my house accompanied by a wonderful staff member.

I can see their white van pulling into my cul-de-sac and then turning into my driveway from my window. I watch as these energetic individuals hop out of the van, smiling and eager to ring my doorbell.

And there I am, waiting for them!

Their visits give them opportunities to practice everyday skills, and they help me with things around the house that have become more difficult for me to do on my own.

They help me get my lunch out, fill my bird feeders, water the flowers on my porch, wash dishes, dust, and vacuum.

In return, I get to encourage them, interact with them, and help them practice skills they can use in their own lives.

They feel helpful, and I feel helpful.

And isn’t that what we all want?

It doesn’t matter what disabilities we live with or what circumstances life has handed us. We all want to feel needed. We all want to contribute something meaningful. We all want to know that we matter.

ALS has taken away some of my physical abilities, but it hasn’t taken away my desire to help others or my need to feel connected to the world around me.

My Tuesdays remind me of that.

I prayed for another opportunity to serve, and instead of sending me somewhere else, God sent people to me.

Right to my front door.

Sometimes I think back to the prayers I’ve prayed over the years. If I’m being completely honest, there were times when my faith wavered. I wondered whether my prayers would really be answered.

I admire people who seem to have that unshakable faith—the kind that trusts God even when the circumstances look impossible.

I’m still learning.

But these Tuesday visits remind me that answers don’t always come in the form we expect. Sometimes they arrive quietly, through an unexpected conversation, an open door, or three smiling people stepping out of a white van.

And sometimes, the answer to “What am I supposed to do now?” is simply, “Start here.”

Who Am I Without My Job Title?

There’s another thing these Tuesday visits have taught me.

When I had to retire early, I realized just how much of my identity was wrapped up in my job title and what I did for a living.

Letting go of that identity was a difficult hurdle to overcome.

For so long, work gave me structure, purpose, and a way to contribute. When ALS forced me to step away, I had to figure out who I was without that familiar role.

Now, years later, I realize that my purpose was never really about a job title.

It was—and still is—about helping others and making some kind of positive impact, however big or small.

My body may have limitations, but my heart still has room to give.

And apparently, my house has become a place where that can happen!

ALS has changed so much about what I can do, but I’m learning that purpose doesn’t always have to look the way it used to. It can change shape. It can become smaller in some ways and more meaningful in others.

Sometimes purpose looks like volunteering at a nursing home.

Sometimes it looks like helping someone practice a life skill.

And sometimes it looks like sitting in my own home, welcoming visitors, sharing a little laughter, and discovering that we all have something to offer one another.

If I Had One Day of Good Health

One of the questions Mitch asked Morrie has always stayed with me. 

If Morrie could have one day of perfect health, what would he do?

I will provide the answer to this question in my next blog post. How would Morrie or I spend our days?

Until Next Tuesday…

I don’t know exactly how my purpose will continue to change as ALS progresses. I’ve learned not to make too many assumptions about what tomorrow will look like.

But I do know this: I don’t have to be able to do everything I once did to make a difference.

I can still encourage someone. I can still share a laugh. I can still welcome people into my home and remind them that they have something valuable to offer the world.

And I can still receive the gifts that others bring into my life.

My Tuesday visitors may think they’re coming to my house to practice life skills and help me with a few chores.

What they may not realize is how much they’re teaching me, too.

They’re reminding me that purpose doesn’t disappear when our circumstances change. Sometimes it simply takes a different form.

And sometimes, when we finally stop trying to figure everything out ourselves, we discover that the answer has been waiting right outside our front door.

So here’s to Tuesdays with Stacy—to meaningful connections, unexpected blessings, and finding purpose in the places we least expect.

And to the God winks that remind us we’re never quite as stuck as we think we are.

Until next time… keep dancing one moment at a time.  Stacy 

July 2025