Afflicted Heroine

Sounds of light laughter draw my attention away from the conversation going on between friends in front of me. Turning my head, I see a sorrow filled scene of confusing beauty. A mother and father are gently helping their teenage daughter out of her wheelchair, preparing to support her disabled body so she can attempt to walk.Thoughts of the things that she would say if the crippled flesh could talk run through my mind.

 Her dad stands behind her, holding their child in his arms as the mom takes her place in front. Soft words of comfort guide the movements of the beloved princess. I watch their actions play out before me like some rehearsed theatrical piece, thinking that this is perhaps an attempt of duplicating  the things done in a common family. Looking around I see the rest of the general public sipping their coffee and eating their sweets, throwing glances of pity and irritation towards the family. It was almost as if her presence were an inconvenience for them.

In a single moment I witness a trickle of mans inability to care. A murmur of the coldness that resides within each of our hearts. Bringing my gaze back to the family, I see a rare instance in which true love spoke out through actions instead of the endless words that we as fallen creatures spill out.

 It may as well just have been the 3 of them for nothing else seemed to exist. Their eyes burned bright with pure joy as they were enraptured in their daughters giggling. Every smile that spread across her face was more beautiful than any decorative thing on this earth. Why would God allow someone so innocent to be born with such a debilitating impairment? How could someone like myself, a vagrant once obsessively consumed in destroying my own life, have the blessing of health?

These thoughts do well to point out that there are things in this world that we can never know. That is, until the step is taken over to the other side and we stand in the audience of Christ.

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