My church recently staged a Sensitivity Sunday to make our congregation aware of the problems faced by people with physical handicaps. We are asked to 'adopt a handicap' for several hours on Sunday morning. Some members chose to be confined to wheelchairs, others stuffed cotton in their ears, hobbled around on crutches, or wore blindfolds. Wheelchairs had never seemed like scary objects to me before I had to sit in one. A tight knot grabbed hold in my stomach when I first took a close look at what was to be my only means of getting around for several hours. I was stuck by the irrational thought, 'once I am in this wheelchair, the handicap might become real, and I might never walk again.' This thought, as ridiculous as it was, frightened me so much that I needed a large dose of courage just to sit down. After I overcame my fear of the wheelchair, I had to learn how to cope with it. I wiggled around to find a comfortable position and thought I might even enjoy being pampered and wheeled around. I glanced over my shoulder to see who would be pushing me. It was only then that I realized I would have to navigate the contraption all by myself! My palms reddened and started to sting as I tugged at the heavy metal wheels. I could not seem to keep the chair on an even course or point the wheels in direction I wanted to go. I kept bumping into doors, pews, and other people. I felt as though everyone was staring at me and commenting on my clumsiness. When the service started, more problems cropped up to frustrate me even further. Every time the congregation stood up, my view was blocked. I could not see the minister, the choir, or the altar. Also, as the church's aisles were narrow, I seemed to be in the way no matter where I parked myself. For instance, the ushers had to step around me in order to pass the collection plate. This Shade me feel like a nuisance. Thanks to a new building program, our church will soon have the wide aisles and well-spaced pews that will make life easier for the handicapped. Finally, if people stopped to talk to me, I had to strain my neck to look up at them. This made me feel like a little child being talked down to and added to my sense of helplessness. My few hours as a disabled person left a deep impression on me. Now, I no longer feel resentment at large tax expenditures for ramp equipped buses, and I wouldn't dream of parking my car in a space marked 'Handicapped Only.' Although my close encounter with a handicap was short-lived, I can now understand the challenges, both physical and emotional, that wheelchair-bound people must over come. To 'adopt a handicap' the writer chose to ______.