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