DUCKY LUCKY BLOG 4

I remember visiting my Aunt Naomi and playing with my cousin, Sheila.  Sheila is a couple of years younger than me.  She had a “slip and slide” on which we and her neighbors played for hours.  The slip and slide was located behind the house on a hill.  Aunt Naomi would put the garden hose at the top of the slide with a bucket and liquid soap.  The soap made it extra slick so we could slide real fast.  We would fill the bucket with water and soap and pour it on the slide and away we went! Walking up the hill took me awhile, but others easily ran up the hill to take their turn.  

Sheila had a pet duck named Ducky Lucky.  Ducky Lucky followed Sheila everywhere

in the yard and he loved the slide, too!  He would slide down it like the rest of

us but he had one problem –well maybe a couple of problems.  He was slow like me

and by the time he would waddle back to the top, others had taken their turn 3-4 

times.  Well, Ducky Lucky didn’t wait on “his turn.”  He would get in front of the

line by pecking his way through.   Everyone would back up so they wouldn’t get 

pecked –except for me!  You see, Ducky Lucky and I would “waddle” up the hill 

together and miss our turn 3-4 times so while he was pecking away and “talking” 

to everyone to get out of the way, he and I would get in front of the line, slide

down and start over again. That’s when Ducky Lucky became one of my best pals. 

I have remembered this duck for years.  You see, he and I had a lot in common. 

Physically, we were both small in stature, slow when we walked, made others hear 

us —not to mention that we were both stubborn as mules. I felt I needed to tell 

this story before I start on my high school years.  You see, we walk with God 

when we are at the bottom of the hill.  We walk up the hill slowly with Him by

our side and when we are at the top of the hill we tend to do “things” our way

thinking God is walking ahead of us, working things out.  We loose our patience

waiting on Him  to do something for us so we start doing life our way thinking 

we have His approval.  The next few years I was jumping ahead of God and thinking

I was walking with Him.  I knew there were times when I wasn’t “living right” 

but deep down Christ was speaking to me through the Holy Spirit.  Looking back,

I realize He was with me the whole time, even during my sins!!  You see, Christ

loved me unconditionally and He still loves me now.  He turned my life around.

Acts 20:24 (New Living Translation) sums up what I need to do:

“But my life is worth nothing to me unless I use it for finishing the work assigned me by the Lord Jesus—the 

work of telling others the Good News about the wonderful grace of God.”

He has entrusted me to tell His story of His unmerited favor, spiritual blessings, and mercy in my life.

Pray with me as I continue to tell my story.

Blog 3 Middle School

Going from paper dolls, Barbie and Betsy McCall into no toys, makeup and kissing boys, was a girl who had to overcome a lot of changes.  Some changes were easy and some were not so smooth.  The summer before my 7th year of school and my 13th birthday I kissed my first boy or rather he kissed me.  I was very nervous, very scared and very excited all at the same time.  Nervous because I had never been kissed by a boy before; scared because I was afraid Mom saw us (we were on the front porch of my house); and excited because the kiss felt nice.  I thought I had arrived!  I kissed someone before I became a teenager!  Whoopee!

Let me backup a few months.  Brenda was still my closest girlfriend and was with me most of the time.  My cousin, Kathy, who lived with my grandmother, was also around a lot because Mom was often helping my grandmother.  Kathy, her sister Marie, Aunt Edith, my great grandmother and my grandmother lived in a two bedroom, 1 bath apartment.  Around this time, my dad bought a house for my grandmother (Dad’s mother-in-law).  All who lived in the apartment moved into the house.  Aunt Edith worked a lot; my grandmother “watched” the girls and took care of her mother, Aunt Dollie.  Aunt Dollie was my great grandmother and she had a stroke and was confined to her bedroom.  She always had the Bible and lemon drop candy next to her.  When I would see her she ALWAYS had a smile on her face.  My grandmother became sick with deep depression and had a breakdown so Mom had to help her a lot!  The house was on top of a hill with a lot of steps to climb.  Once you climbed the stairs to reach flat ground, there were about 5-6 more to climb to get into the house!  For someone who couldn’t climb the stairs normally it was an ordeal.  Mom had to help me with each step.  Not only did she help me but she had to help my little brother, Jimmy.

At that time my brother Jimmy was about 5-6 years old.  When he was a toddler and learning to walk it was discovered he had the same disease I have –spinal muscular atrophy.  This disease is usually harder on males than females.  By the time he was in the 5th grade, (9-10 years old) he was using a wheelchair most of the time.  I didn’t require a wheelchair until I was in the 10th grade (16 years old) and even then I didn’t use it all the time.   Today, Jim is a wonderful man who loves the Lord.  He has accomplished a lot.  But, this blog isn’t about him.  I would love to tell his story but for some reason God wants me to write mine.

Back to visiting my grandmother –Maw as we called her. Mom made sure I made it into the house.  My cousins, Kathy & Marie had 2 bedrooms in the basement of the house.  So, in order to go to Kathy’s room I had to go downstairs.  And the basement steps were steep.  I would drop to the floor and scoot my behind down each step.  I would do the same going back up.  Going up stairs was an even greater challenge; gravity fought against me the whole way.  Which is harder and easier for you?  Walking up stairs or walking down stairs?

Kathy and I played with our Barbie dolls a lot.  We had the ENTIRE set –Ken, Midge, Allen, etc.  Kathy allowed her Barbie & Ken to kiss each other so I thought I should do the same.  When we weren’t playing with Barbie we played cowboys.  Each of us had a make believe boyfriend.  I can’t remember Kathy’s boyfriend but mine was ……OK………here it comes……..Kurt Russell!  He played in several Disney movies in the 1960’s.  We girls were “growing up”!  Around this time something was taking over my body and mind.  It was a monster called……………hormones!!  By the time I was in the 5th grade (11 years old) I looked like a black hairy animal so Mom allowed me to shave under my arms and my legs.  By the 6th grade (11 years old) I was growing breast and started my monthly curse!  Between Brenda & Kathy, I was alone in experiencing this monster.

Kathy kept talking about kissing boys and Brenda & I kept rolling our eyes.  Kathy was “interested” in boys long before I was but I have to say she got my curiosity up.  After that 1st kiss I was hooked!  With Brenda I never had to prove I was physically the same as she but with Kathy I did.  Kathy never said anything about my handicap but her actions spoke volumes.   Understand I felt left out when it came to Kathy and her friends.  We didn’t run in the same circle.  Later on in life God showed me why we didn’t have the same friends.  He was taking care of me even though I wasn’t living for Him.

Middle school was a time for a lot of change.  Not only was I one with a handicap but I was the only girl in school with big breasts!  I was short, skinny and the boys saw me coming.  No matter what I did everyone knew me!  The boys looked with grins and the girls looked with jealousness.  My nickname was “BOOB”!   I was embarrassed but at the same time I liked the attention.  The most popular boy in school started to like me.  We liked each other.   Yes, we even kissed and held hands.  When we broke up he subscribed to PLAYBOY Magazine using my name & address.  Needless to say Mom didn’t like it but she knew I didn’t do it!  At the time I thought it was funny…….I still chuckle about it. I did get into trouble …a lot …for talking and being the class clown.  You are surprised? OK, maybe not.

Hall Fletcher Middle school had 3 floors and lots of stairs!  7th graders changed classes but all classes were on the 1st floor and in one area.  Being on one floor wasn’t a challenge for me physically.  The gym, auditorium, principal’s office and lunch room were also close by or on the 1st floor.  The 8th grade was the beginning of my physical & educational challenges.  8th graders changed classes from 1st floor to 3rd floor so my classes had to be planned out precisely.  My classes had to start on the 3rd floor in the morning, then 2nd floor and then the 1st floor by the end of the day.   The days I had classes on the 3rd or 2nd floors, Dad would carry me 2-3 flights of stairs!  Most of the time, he carried me on his back.  Granted, I only weighed somewhere between 65-75 pounds but you try to carry that many pounds up three flights of stairs!  Also, remember in those days girls only wore dresses or skirts and the skirts were short –not long!  Dad had to be discrete!  Poor Dad, looking back I realize he must have truly loved me.

I couldn’t go down to the cafeteria for lunch so I ate lunch in one of the classrooms on 2nd floor.  One year, my cousin Debra, broke her leg, so she ate lunch with me.  That time meant a lot to me because she started to understand my situation.  Before this time she and I did not talk to one another a lot.

Some classes did not run smoothly for me because some classes weren’t offered in the morning on the upper floors.  Science and math were two of those courses.  The school library was located on the 2nd floor so while everyone went to science class on third floor, I went to the library.  The science teacher was supposed to give me assignments to work on and help me periodically.  She gave me one assignment with a test and I made a C.  Well, I guess she figured I was an average student and gave me C’s on every report period without doing any work!  What middle school student would not love that deal?  The same was done with math classes.  I did go to classes but I was put in classes that were available.  When scheduling my 9th grade classes, I went to talk with the Asst. Principal about Algebra.  I knew I had to be in a class for Algebra.  He said to me “Vicky, you won’t be going to college anyway so don’t worry about it!”  I cannot begin to tell you how I felt, between my science teacher and the Asst. Principal’s comment.  For the first time in my life, I didn’t fight back but took “no” for an answer.

I do remember, when I started middle school, others were just allowing me to breeze through school. What I mean by ‘others’ was teachers, principals and many adult family members –but not Mom!  Yes, I heard them all talking.  But Mom believed in me.  Mom was my advocate.  Mom took up for me.  I ALWAYS felt secure with her.  I never told her, until recently, about the advice I received concerning school.   Mom saw me as a person with feelings and a person with a future, not as a person with limitations that couldn’t be overcome.

Before I go into my High School years, there’s something else I want to say.  I knew I had a handicap but I never looked at myself as “handicapped.”  Yes, I did have challenges but I dealt with those challenges.  I knew I couldn’t change my condition but I could deal with the situations when those challenging situations came up.  Growing up I felt loved and secure.  I was happy most of the time.  My smiles were evidence of my security.  I believed I was a Christian.  Praying was done every day.  Praying to God or talking to Christ, whichever you want to call it.  I talked to Him in my mind, not at a set time and not on my knees.  He knew my feelings, thoughts and rebellion.  He knew my heart.  No, I didn’t live FOR Him but for myself as I was growing up.  But HE HAD HIS HAND ON ME!!  He took care of me and loved me regardless of my thoughts and actions. He HAD plans for me.  Looking back I see His hand all through my life.

Psalm 139:13-16 (The Message) says: “Oh yes, you shaped me first inside, then out; you formed me in my mother's womb. I thank you, High God—you're breathtaking! Body and soul, I am marvelously made! I worship in adoration—what a creation! You know me inside and out, you know every bone in my body; You know exactly how I was made, bit by bit, how I was sculpted from nothing into something. Like an open book, you watched me grow from conception to birth; all the stages of my life were spread out before you, The days of my life all prepared before I'd even lived one day.”

Elementary Years

I found the meaning of freedom from dictionary.com. The word freedom is a noun which means the state of being free or at liberty rather than in confinement or under physical restraint.
This description was how I was feeling when I no longer wore those horrific shoes. I felt "normal", not different. Being different was hard, still is hard, to accept. It seems I have had to fight all my life for "my freedom". On the outside, to others, I had/have everything but inside my inner most self, I didn't have everything. I wanted to do what others were doing, play what others were playing, and climb stairs like others were climbing. I didn't have physical strength like all my friends but, at least, I was walking!

I was very petite all through school. When I graduated from High School I was 4'11", wore size 4 petite clothes and weighed 85 pounds. I had two things to fight against, my handicap & my size. Well, I compensated it with my mouth and my stubbornness.
My family always went to church, rather, me, my mom & siblings attended. Dad didn't go except for special occasions like plays we were in, or other occasions. He didn't mind Mom taking us. After church, most of the time, we spent with Dad. We went for long afternoon rides, sightseeing or visiting relatives who lived way out in the country. One Sunday a girl, my age, showed up in church. Her name was Brenda. We became very close. We were soul mates! If she wasn't at my house, I was at hers. My mom inherited another daughter. Brenda was my very best friend. She never acted like I was different! She played games I could play. Brenda & I did everything together. She made me feel "normal". I remember the day Pres. John Kennedy was killed. Brenda saw me in the school hallway, she ran to me, put her arms around me, she was crying as much as her heart allowed. I did not cry. Crying, in front of others, was something I hardly would do but I did cry alone on many occasions. When others were around I watched Brenda play physical games and I was her private cheerleader. I remember her doing the limbo; she always won because she was very limber. We stayed very close friends until I had to attend a different high school, which I will be discussing at a later time.
Meanwhile, a friend of my mom's, from church, told her about a place, in Florida, for children like me who had physical needs. She thought Mom should send me there to see if this facility could help me physically. (I can only imagine what Mom was feeling) She replied to the lady that there wasn't anything anyone could do & she would take care of me as long as she had a home for me. Mom loved me. She made me feel secure. I could tell she was concerned about me but my "strong will" wouldn't allow her to hold me back. Mom was, and still is, a very wise lady and loves the Lord. There is not a time I can remember her not having time with God. Late at night, I remember her going in the bath room, with her Bible, to have her time with God. She would be praying for her family. Mom was a living sacrifice and gave up her self for everyone else. I will tell her story at another time.
Back in school, I remember sitting and watching others play during recess or PE. Another friend, Susan, sat with me because she couldn't participate either. Susan had a hole in her heart. We didn't let it bother us too much. We usually sat & talked, played jacks or cards. There were times I felt left out, pushed aside, different.

Around the 3rd grade I was tired of watching everyone having fun so I told the teacher I wanted to join in. Wow, if you could have seen her face! That's when I started coming up with solutions and ideas on how I could join the rest of the class during "activity" time. I remember one game I played at school and my neighborhood------baseball! I would bat, hit the ball, someone else would run for me. No one minded playing this way. If they did no one said anything. Around this time I became a problem solver. When others would tell me I couldn't do something, then I would ask why not! Now, I knew, within reason, what I actually could not do physically, like running marathons or jumping hurdles but if there was a solution, I found one.

Talking was my past time in school and out of school. I know; it still is my favorite thing to do! I was always full of questions, argumentative, and always full of comments. I was always trying to be like everyone else. If ADHD (attention deficit hyperactivity disorder) existed then, I would be my parents ADHD child. The doctor prescribed something to help me sleep at night. He said I wasn't physically able to get tired enough to sleep. Hmmm, little did he know.........I couldn't be still; I always had to be doing something, even if it was talking!

ZORRO was my hero up until the 3rd grade or so. There was always something about his "uniform" I liked. Looking back, I was a lot like Zorro. I hid behind a mask of feelings. When I put my "uniform" on I was stronger, felt important. I "always" took up for the underdog! I would always "fight" for them (with my mouth of course)! He always wore black so he could hide from his enemies. Was that what I was doing? hiding? God was my hero too and He was one to fear. I feared Him a lot. See, I grew up thinking if I didn't ask God to forgive me I would go straight to hell. I didn't ask Him to forgive "my strong will power" because I didn't think much about it at the time. I didn't go down to the altar a lot at church because I didn't want others to know how bad I was behaving on the inside. I wanted all the adults to keep patting me on my head and telling me what a beautiful, nice daughter my parents were raising! Except one time at church (I can't remember what I did) I received a spanking from Mom. No, it wasn't my first one, nor was it my last! Anyway, someone asked Mom, “Do you spank her? Why?" Mom replied "Of course I spank her! I spank her because she has been bad!" "I treat her like any other child who acts out." Looking back, I'm glad she did. I also had long, dark hair. In fact, it was so long I was able to sit on it sometimes. My long hair did not make me weaker........ I don't think it did, anyway. Someone asked Mom about my hair and why she didn't have it cut short to save my strength. Mom replied, "Samson's strength came from his long hair. Vicky's hair is her strength." Isn't my mom wise? All I could think of is how stupid people are and how could they ask so many stupid questions! I thanked God for my parents on many occasions. After all, if He had allowed these other people to be my parents, I would have lived in Florida with short, dark, hair! Not to mention that I'd be separated from my family!
I don't remember when I asked Christ into my heart. What I do know, I always thought of myself as a Christian. Granted, I wasn't always living for Him and I did ask for His forgiveness on many occasions! I didn't ask to be saved over and over again. All I wanted was just to be forgiven. Man, if I asked Him to save me every time I sinned, I would have been saved at least 1,000 times or more! I don't want to get into theology, I'm just telling you how I felt! I always talked to God, especially at night. There were many times I would argue and ask "why". Why me Lord? I fell and hit my head again today, Lord. It really embarrassed me. Why did you allow it to happen? Everyone thinks I can't do anything. They laugh at me. They feel sorry for me. They don't want me around them. Lord, I don't want to be weak, I want to be strong! Why Lord? Why?
As I walked, my legs would buckle and I would fall down. This didn't happen all the time but usually happened when I least expected. Sometimes when I fell my head would go back and hit the floor. In order to get up I used my hands to push against my thighs to straighten up. Sometimes someone would help me get back on my feet. This was always a humbling experience. I had a speaking part during a Christmas recital at church. The choir & speakers were behind a curtain on stage. My turn came up. Yep, I fell as I was walking across the stage. My mother came & helped me up. I continued as if nothing happened. Usually I would laugh and go on but inside I was so embarrassed. Girls wore dresses all the time during my elementary years, so you can only imagine how I looked on the floor!
I started taking piano lessons in the 2nd grade. I loved the piano. Did I practice all the time? No! My teacher, Ms. McCoy was the greatest. I took lessons from her for 17 years. She stuck with me through the good times and the bad. She helped me start a teaching career when I graduated from High School. When I felt lonely or depressed I would play. It was my way of escaping from.........me!

God was teaching me humility; He was teaching me to realize He made me. This realization took a while but I do know He placed me in His story so I can bring Him glory! Remember this was my elementary years, there is still more to come.

Beginning Years

First, I would like to apologize to all journalists, writers and English teachers for my penmanship. I am not a professional writer. I am here to talk about my life as a woman who has to use a wheelchair in order to live her life.




This is dedicated to Mom for teaching me unconditional love and that I am special in the eyes of Christ. Psalm 31:10-31(NIV)

This is also dedicated to my husband & best friend, Jay, for loving me unconditionally. Ephesians 5:25-28 (The Message)



I was born in Asheville, NC, Oct. 5, 1953 to a full time Army career man and a full time homemaker. At that time my dad was stationed in Germany. Up to then, he had fought in 3 invasions. One evasion was on D-Day (not saving Pvt. Ryan but the REAL D-DAY) fighting to keep America's freedom. His last invasion was fighting in the front lines of Korea. My mom grew up with 1 brother and 3 sisters during the depression. They both grew up during hard times, seeing a lot and learning how to survive.



When I came into this world, I had 1 sister, Brenda. Brenda was a month away of being 5 years old. She was born before Dad went to Korea, I was born afterwards. This will be mentioned again at a later time. So look out for Korea again!



Mom named me Vicky and spelled my name with a "y" instead of "I" or "ie" like everyone else was spelling the name because.........ho hum.........the doctor spelled it that way on my birth certificate!

No, my name is not a nickname from Victoria. Ta dah.......See, from the very beginning, God was starting to make me different than anyone else through my name! To this day, I have to tell others it is with a "y" not "I" or "ie"! The origin of the name Vicky is Latin which means conqueror; victory. Hmmmm!



2 years passed and I was starting to learn how to walk. Mom started noticing the way I was walking, climbing stairs and getting up off the floor when I would fall down. It was different than the way my sister learned to walk and how other children walked. When I climbed the stairs I had to hold on to something or someone to take a step up. When I fell down on the floor I would walk up my legs, with my hands, in order to stand up again. When I walked, I would walk on my toes. Maybe, I was learning how to ballet. After all, I do love the art of dancing!



Of course my parents had me examined and analyzed. I spent some nights in hospitals. The only thing I remember from one stay is I had shared my room with other children who had their own crib. It was a coed room because across from me was a blonde hair, mean, loud, obnoxious boy! (My 1st encounter with boys) He kept yelling at me, calling me names and throwing things at me. Not a good impression...huh!



When Dad was stationed at Ft. Bliss, Texas (El Paso), the doctors diagnosed me with muscular dystrophy. Back then, scientists and doctors did not know much about the disease. They knew my muscles would be weak, I wouldn't live to be old and I wouldn't function, physically, like other children. The doctors prescribed me shoes with a bar between them. I was to wear them while sleeping. It was suppose to help my feet grow correctly. I also had to wear these brown, heavy, ugly, oxfords during the day. These, oxfords, were so heavy I could hardly lift my feet. For the life of me, I can never understand why people running have to put weights on their ankles! It was miserable!



My brother, Jimmy, was born in November, 1960, in Texas and at that time, Dad retired from the Army. By next February, we moved back to Asheville, NC. We traveled in a black, Impala, with a front floor air condition and blinds in the back window, luggage in the back and all kinds of things tied on top. Jimmy was 4 months old, Brenda was 12 years old and I was 7! Besides, 2 adults, a baby, 2 girls, there was a white chicken (my pet, of course) named Princess and a parakeet. We really looked like Ma & Pa Kettle (the Real McCoy’s for those who were born later). One thing I do remember about our trip is while we were in a motel, Dad called me over to see a new show on TV, "The Flintstones". Dad was excited at a cartoon which was airing on primetime TV. He loved cartoons!



I finished out grade 1 in a small, private school. The school only went through the 1st grade so everyone I knew had to attend 2nd grade in another private school or go to public school. Mom wanted me to attend the Catholic School because it was the only private school around. Remember, this was the early 1960's and private schools were almost non-existent. Only the upper crust went to private schools or so I thought. Anyway, Mom wanted me to attend a private school because she thought it would be the best for me physically. Needless to say, I said "NO, I want to go to a public school where my friends are going!" I also said "I do not like these shoes & I am not wearing them anymore!" Well, I TOLD her! Hmmmm, do you think I was a little demanding? I never took "NO" for an answer (still don't) so I ended up attending 2nd grade at Aycock Elementary School with my friends. Also, I no longer wore those ugly torture shoes! I was free or so I thought!