Today I shook hands with two strangers. One was a young girl in a wheel chair, the daughter of a missionary. She is about ten years old and was dealt a hand in life that affects her bone growth and function as well as her communication. At this point, she does not have verbal language nor has she learned how to use a communication device effectively. But this little girl radiated light, just as her sister who was pushing her wheelchair did. I spoke to the little girl in the wheelchair, her head on a swivel, not settling on any one thing to rest her eyes. She seemed to respond to my voice a little, but when her sister spoke, I swear I saw a smile come across her face. I told the little girl and her sister how we pray for her.
My speech pathologist heart yearned to spend more time with this little girl, to see if I could unlock the secret to interest her in communicating with her device, or, miracle of miracles, if I could be able to unlock some verbalization of words for her loved ones.
This encounter was not by chance, though. I had wanted to meet this little girl but given up hopes to do so because I thought her family had already left the state. As my family and I were walking out, I glanced over my shoulder only to see her coming directly our way. I knew I must walk a couple steps back in order to meet this precious daughter of the King. He brought her out and wanted me to meet her. Perhaps He will have our paths cross again. Perhaps the touch of a hand and the sound of a new voice speaking with her might enliven her soul. Whatever the case, I now I have a face to go with the name I was praying for.
The second stranger I shook hands with today was a World War II veteran. I took my children to the Gulfarium this afternoon after a fun lunch by the sea. In the parking lot, I noticed a young man with rather wild hair helping someone out of his car. He was parked in the handicapped parking lot. The man seemed to notice our van and had an interesting demeanor about himself. Oh well, I thought. Different people. As we walked to the ticket counter, these people walked in line behind us, pushing someone in a wheelchair. It was my son who noticed the hat upon the old man’s head – “World War II Veteran”. Wow! Not many of those alive these days!
My son seemed excited that this man was at the park. I said if our paths crossed, we should say thank you for serving. Sure enough, we ran into them by the penguins. So I walked over and asked the young man and woman with him if I could say thank you to the older gentleman for his service. As they said yes, I knelt down to eye level of the veteran and peered beneath his hat. The man’s gaze was downward toward the ground. But as he saw me step in front of him, he raised his eyes to meet mine and smiled very pleasantly when I said “Thank you for your service.” We shook hands, this wizened gentleman and myself. I told him my son had wanted to say thank you and to shake his hand as well. How incredible to have the opportunity to say thank you to a man who served our nation in World War II.
I wanted to stay and ask more questions. Where had he fought? What was his job in the military? What does he remember most from his time serving? What did he do afterward? Has he ever been to Pearl Harbor? But I didn’t want to intrude on the family’s time together. Perhaps I should have gotten his name, one of the last surviving members of the armed forces from World War II.
So, two strangers I shook hands with today, both in wheelchairs. One was young and one was old. What purpose does God have in bringing these two people into our lives today? I do not know, but I was blessed by both hand shakes, reminded of the joy a hand shake can bring no matter the differences of the person on the other end of the shake.
Life is Sailing 