It's a group I never wanted to Join, the walker bunch. I'm used to zipping around and Chasing after things, like Chickens. I always felt pity for the folks Who needed to poke along Pushing a walker. But now I'm one of them. And it's humbling. But I've come to appreciate my Pushmobile. I've learned that when I grasp the Lower bars, I can maneuver myself Directly over the toilet seat. (I know. Too much information. ) And I can carry items in a bag I've attached to the front. Without my walker, I'd need more Help getting around the house, and Poor Danny already has enough work to Care for me. I wish I'd been more careful so I Could walk freely without help. But I'm thankful for my trusty Aide that enables me to walk at all. And now I will view my fellow walker Buddies with more patience, grace and Understanding. |
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I noticed the boy in
His wheelchair at Walmart. The chair was equipped with a Tube that helped him to breathe. My heart was touched. Should I simply pass by? Should I ignore him and His two caretakers? I chose instead to greet them. One was his mom. "His name is Nick," she told me. I walked in front of the boy, Looked into his contorted face And said, "You're precious." I looked into his mother's face and Said, "All children are precious." "Yes," she agreed, and thanked me For my comments. I never know how to respond to Folks who have physical and Emotional challenges. But on this day, the right thing was To encourage a mom and her Precious son. Instead of standing, the cashier was
Sitting in her walker behind the Register. She was overweight, had no Teeth, and appeared to be past Retirement age. I made small talk. "How is your day going?" "Okay, but I'm tired." I sympathized. "Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?" "No. I'll probably have to work." "Do you have family?" "No, my mom and dad have died." I ached for her. Since no one was in line behind me, We chatted a bit more and I gave her A tract, the one about how Jesus Helps us face life during the Really hard times. "Can I give you a hug?" I asked. She didn't object. I stepped behind the counter and Embraced her for a long time. "You smell nice," I told her. "Thanks," she responded and almost Smiled. "I'll pray for you." She seemed grateful and told me Her name. I wish I could give a hug to all the Folks who have no family or Plans for Thanksgiving. I wish I could do more. She's a new widow and has
Discovered she can eat only Soup. Most likely the lump in her Throat is more emotional in Nature than physical, but for Now, her friends are providing Soup each week. Today it was my turn to deliver it. I lingered awhile so we could visit. Mostly, I listened. My grieving sister shared the Frustrations of obtaining death Certificates and endless phone Calls, the overwhelming details of Death. She introduced me to her husband's Paintings, and his sweet spirit and Amazing insights. I wish I had known Don better. He taught her to embrace winter and to Not hurry on the park trails, but to Stop, and look and listen. He was her rock and constant Companion. She played one of their favorite songs, "Time to Say Good-by," and we both Cried. A devotional book was open on an End table, and my friend read the Page for today. How could the message be so Pertinent? Before I left, I prayed. My soulmate and I both needed the Visit today. And Rose and I will both be eating Cauliflower soup for supper. The man was acting strangely.
He seemed to be talking to Himself as he shopped at the Grocery store. Later, as I waited in line, he Pushed his cart up behind me and Asked, "How are you today?" "I'm good. How about you?" I was surprised when he began to Sob. "My wife died two years ago, and I miss her so much." I tried to console him as I placed my Groceries onto the conveyor belt. He continued to lament, interspersing His conversation with off color words. The cashier averted her eyes, not Knowing what to make of us. I lagged behind so I could talk to the Gentleman as we left the store. The widower had been married 38 Years and recently moved to the Area to be near his kids. "I just can't get over losing her." I listened and shared bits of my Own story of loss. I gave him one of my tracts, and as I left I told him I would pray for him. I couldn't relate to the man's Vocabulary or to his unusual Mannerisms. But I could identify with his Broken heart. I could share his grief. As I was praying with the
Group of ladies, I sensed that The heavy concern weighing me Down was serving a purpose. It enabled me to pray more Effectively. I felt deep compassion for the Other gals who were carrying Their own burdens, many more Critical than mine. My personal pain made it easier for Me to practice Paul's admonition: "Weep with those who weep." * *Romans 12:15 It was a lose, lose situation, and
Everyone involved is passing blame. But the tragedy of Afghanistan is Being played out before our Eyes. Chaos rules. Thousands are fleeing, packed in Cargo planes like sardines. They are the fortunate ones. Others cling to the air ships Preferring to risk death rather than Lose the freedom they had Tasted for a season. But most of the populace is Left behind, holed up in their Homes, hiding under burqas. Frantic, Feeling betrayed, they know from the Past the atrocities they will face, Especially the women, the Young girls. I see the desperation in their eyes and Try to imagine the plight of these Fellow human beings. Shouldn't their lives matter too? I ache inside, Break inside. I barely know how to pray for them Except to say, "Please, Lord, have Mercy." In our small group I joked about giving birth.
"The pain was terrible," I said. "I remember Thinking that if I had a gun I would shoot Myself," and I pointed my finger to My head. We laughed. All but one gal. Her precious son, Her only son had taken his life and I had no Idea that my utterance had pierced her to The core. She asked to speak with me privately. When she revealed that my comments had Wounded her, my heart was wounded too. I asked her to forgive me. We prayed and moved on. I thanked my friend for making me aware of My insensitivity and of the hurting people That surround me. Because she was transparent I know never to Repeat those words. And I know it is never right to make light of A topic that is dreadful and not one bit Humorous. When a friend is suffering and I
Want to show her compassion, I must Reach back into my memory file and Relive the painful experiences that Crushed me to bits. Remembering the pain takes courage, but In doing so I can identify with her anguish and Help her to see that God restores. It had been months since we had seen
Our former neighbor, and when my Friend and I visited her at the Facility, her appearance was Shocking. We barely recognized her. Age and disease had ravaged her Body and mind. I began to read to her from a Devotional book, but she didn't allow Me to finish. I held her hand and prayed. As I sat on the couch across from her chair I looked into my friend's eyes trying to Find the dear woman she once was and Who she still is deep in her soul. I caught glimpses of her, just a Few. If one day I'm in a similar state, I pray That someone will take the time to Do the same for me. |
Dorothy Kalb Hsu Seitzinger
Writing poetry has helped me process and express my sorrows and joys, my concerns and blessings. "Life is hard, but God is good!" Archives
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