Observations all along the line - Kimball & the Southern Panhandle First

Where are they now? Rebekah (Williams) Franklin

Given devastating news when she was young and full of hope, Kimball graduate Rebekah (Williams) Franklin could have given up – and she nearly did, instead she chose to grow, and to offer hope to others when she was feeling hopeless.

"One of my favorite quotes is 'You never know how strong you are until being strong is the only choice you have,'" she said.

Becky's family moved to Kimball in the early nineties and she graduated high school in 1999. She went to college in Texas, worked at a daycare center and dreamed of being a wife and mom.

"My butt went numb first, and the numbness slowly spread down my right leg, then my left. The kids at daycare would hug my legs and their hands felt wet," she said. "By the time I went to the hospital, I had to sit and scoot to bring laundry downstairs at my dorm."

She was dating the man she would eventually marry. Becky was living her life and expected so much for her future, and in 2001, she was given something unexpected – a diagnosis, Multiple Sclerosis.

"At the time of diagnosis, I learned the possible outcomes of the disease, but my symptoms came and went. I thought I'd walk forever," she said. "Throughout my 11 year marriage, I raised kids, step kids, trying to carry on a relatively normal life."

As the disease progressed Becky's walking became worse, soon she needed a walker, was consistently attending physical therapy and eventually she needed a wheelchair at church and for other functions.

"In 2012 I broke my hip, and began to realize that walking was overrated. I slowly began to adjust to life always in a wheelchair," she said. "My marriage was failing, my health was failing and my mind was failing. I couldn't spell second grade words and was far from the "perfect" wife and mother I had envisioned for myself. I was in a very dark place mentally."

At that moment, Becky could have given in to the diagnosis that changed her life. Instead, she chose to focus on others and in doing so, her perception of her own circumstances changed. She began blogging and she realize that she still had a lot of life inside.

"Interacting with other disabled people on the internet helped me to feel like perhaps this wasn't the "normal" life, but it could be something amazing," she said. "I began to go out of the house often, once I realized I could, and pretty easily, with my power chair. Having a disability doesn't mean I have to stay isolated."

As she began exploring her new reality, she began questioning assumptions she had for herself. She pushed limits she thought she had, just to find that she could do nearly anything she wanted in her chair.

"My soon to be ex-husband became more controlling, which prompted me to really push the limits, and I realized I could go all over town in my chair. Soon I was approached by strangers all the time, saying they see me everywhere," she said. "That led me to put quotes on my chair. Might as well give them something to look at. 'Life is a daring adventure' right? The quotes led me to dancing around town, 'Be the change.'"

In her journeys around her new hometown, Moore, Oklahoma, Becky would encounter litter and debris on the sidewalks. Occasionally this could make travel in a motorized wheelchair treacherous, so she would pick the litter up and eventually she began turning the discarded items into art.

"I use solar rope lights to light my chair and have used road debris for the frames on that. I accidentally bought the wrong type of lights, so I decided to use discarded utility flag wires to spell out 'Smile Moore' and hang it somewhere around town. Its a free and fun way to share smiles. It's slightly more permanent than sidewalk chalk, which is another thing I enjoy doing," she said. "I get as excited over interesting debris, as I would over a good sale. Maybe more so."

Her 'Smile Moore' sign disappeared, but she realized that she had all the supplies she needed to make people smile all over town and it would only cost her a few rolls of duct tape.

"I want people around the world to make road art. It is a way to create unique objects. If people don't want something on their fence, take it down and put it somewhere else. This type of art is meant to be shared. Personally, I'm working on a project, (1,000 flowers) that may take years. In the meantime, I use what I find to make whatever feels right at the moment. I call myself the unofficial Moore mascot, and truly believe that anything that comes into your life can be used. It's up to you what you do with it," she said.

She has listened to many; she has encouraged them and in doing so she too has found courage. She has shared her story, her thoughts, her struggles and her successes on her blog on YouTube and in person and she continues to offer hope to others and in turn, she too is encouraged.

"Strangers have cried with me on the side of the road when I cry dance around town. Everyone has something. A lot of my struggles are visible, and even more so because I talk about diapers and stuff on YouTube. I feel lucky a lot of the time, but when I get down, art helps me remind myself that there is a whole world outside of me," she said. "My fingers have grown increasingly numb. MS can affect eyesight. All I know is that I have today. I can see the tape. Rip it with my fingers. At the end of my life, I want to know I took advantage of every opportunity."