Learning to Walk

This past week, my housemate Jordan and I visited a couple in the elderly program - Ed and Anna. Ed is sixty-five and Anna is sixty-four, and they grew up together in a hollow not far from where they live now. I’d met Ed last week at commodities, but this was my first time seeing their home and meeting his wife. He greeted us on the porch as we walked up to the house. Ed’s a tall man with a big mustache and a mess of silver hair on top of his head. He wears large eyeglasses that magnify the size of his eyes, and I haven’t seen him yet - in person or in pictures - without a pair of dark blue overalls. The huge smiles and warm welcomes we get never fail to make my heart jump up in my chest.

As luck would have it, they had three of their grandchildren visiting that day. The house was a flurry of activity, with “Dora the Explorer” blaring in the background and a play-kitchen being put to some serious use. Their grandson looked to be about eleven, and their two granddaughters were somewhere around seven and four. They regarded me shyly while their grandmother asked me questions about my home and their grandfather sat in a chair next to me, grinning broadly. The youngest granddaughter was absolutely beautiful; she had big blue eyes, and golden curls framed her chubby little face. When she laughed, it came out in a joyful little giggle, and dimples imprinted themselves on her cheeks as she played on her brother’s lap. I didn’t even notice the braces on her legs until her grandfather made me aware of them.

She was in a horrible car accident recently with her brother and her father. I’d heard about it the week before, but I hadn’t made the connection. I’d been told that she’d been partially paralyzed. It broke my heart; this lively little girl would struggle with that injury for her entire life, and it didn’t even appear that she truly understood that yet. There wasn’t any time to feel sorry for her, though.

“Wanna see her walk?” Ed looked at me hopefully. My eyebrows raised a little. I looked over at the girl, then back at Ed. “Sure,” I said. Ed jumped up excitedly and took the girl’s hands. The little trooper slid off her brother’s lap and onto her wobbly feet. With Ed holding her hands up high, she took one shaky step, and then another. I could see the intense concentration on the girl’s face. Ed walked her all the way down the hall and back, while the rest of us watched. When she finally sat back down, we all gushed excitedly, congratulating her and telling her that she’d done a wonderful job. And Ed looked about ready to burst with pride.

Life is a dizzying mix of trial and triumph. Our characters are partially defined by our reactions to these incidents in our own lives, but I think the truer test is how we react to those of others. We are called to celebrate this life with those around us. And it is as much of a blessing to extend a hand to get someone back on her feet as it is to take that hand and walk forward. That is the miracle of love.