Hello, my friends, and welcome to the Live Inspired podcast Monday morning moments Labor Day edition with John O'Leary.

I record these each and every week so you and I can begin these weeks

and our days in awe and on fire with the bursts of inspiration. This one, you know, I like to begin

with a question. Let's go. Will you reach out in love? That's the question. Will you reach out

in love? At age 10, a painful experience revealed how broken and disabled and imperfect I was.

And yet the story doesn't end there.

A conversation with my mother afterwards challenged me to never believe lies that cheapen the blessing of my life.

Heeding her advice positively changed my life and I think listening to it today might elevate yours. When I came home from the hospital

after being burned, fitting in was a struggle. In the early days, I was in a wheelchair, bandages

covering my entire body. Eventually, my bandages were removed and the wheelchair

was no longer needed, but I was covered in scars from my neck to my toes. I had many

experiences of being stared at, had pointed at, and whispered about in public. And sometimes I

still do. One of the most searing experiences occurred, though,

in church, about a year after the fire. During the service, there's a moment when we turn to others

and extend our hands, we shake theirs, and we offer what's called a sign of peace. As a kid,

there was a much needed chance to burn off a little bit of energy that had been stifled for the previous 30 minutes trapped in some church pew.

And on this particular day, I remember joyfully standing up, turning around, shaking the hands with my siblings, and then my parents, then with the family we knew in front of us and

then after all of that I turned around and I extended my right hand to the gentleman behind us.

He began to extend his, he then looked down at mine. He realized he was about to shake hands with

a little boy that had no fingers, a little boy with scarred arms.

And that's when the gentleman withdrew his hand, he crossed his arms, and he looked away.

Never forgotten that. Dejected, I pulled my hand back, I turned around, and I put my head down.

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