The Boy in the Wheelchair
The truck reluctantly stopped at the stop sign, its load wanting to
push it on through as if it also knew this was the last stop it had to
make in what had been a frenzied day. The yard was just around the corner.
As the truck came to rest, something from the corner of my eye caught my
attention. Raising myself up a few inches to see out the passenger window
I caught a glimpse of a young boy of about ten years-of-age in a small
wheelchair on the sidewalk. His mother was struggling with the door of
their van, trying to get the lift to come down. As I looked down upon him,
his frail neck strained to raise his head up. Struggling with Herculean
effort, he managed to get it straight up into a forward looking position.
Unable to pick his head up any further, his eyes rolled up the remaining
distance required to look upon the massive form that had rumbled to the
intersection. With only a moment to glance into my eyes, his head fell
back upon his chest betrayed by his atrophied neck muscles.
This exchange between the young boy and I took only a few seconds, but in
that few seconds a heart hardened by a lifetime of bitterness and
disappointments broke open and as the truck rolled into the yard, so did
the tears roll down my cheeks. I keep seeing those eyes, so innocent,
straining to look up, pleading. In those eyes were a thousand questions
being asked of me to which I can give no answer. I have tried since that
day to appreciate all I have and believe God sent this young boy, whom I
will most likely never meet or know until we meet in heaven, to give me
strength at times I need the help. You see, every moment I have found
myself down or troubled since that day an image comes into my mind, an
image of a young boy in a wheelchair who says, "You don’t have it so tough
buddy. Now pick your head up, quit feeling sorry for yourself, and get on
with your life." This young boy’s parents may question God and ask why God
allowed him to have to live a life trapped in a shell of a body and
wheelchair. I can provide them with the answer.
Even though I do not know this young boy here on earth I am sure I will
meet him in heaven when he walks up to me, wraps his arms around me and
tells me, " I sure would have liked to have ridden with you in that
truck!" That will be the day I can finally thank him by saying, " Thanks
for helping me get here." God sent him into my life in a form that would
make an impression on my heart. I honestly believe there will be many,
many more just like him I will be giving thanks and praise to because
there are a great number of individuals we never see or realize are
helping us behind the scenes of this act called life. God bless this young
man for what he has done for me.
Steve Romans sromans@msn.com