This event took place about eight years ago. I have posted this a few times over the years to remind us all, that we shouldn’t judge others, especially when we truly do not know their story.
Everyone has a story. I was at the store to pick up some light bulbs. I crossed the path of a man in a wheelchair. I offered to get what he needed off the shelf, his response was; “I don’t need any of your pity.” I just stood there looking into old and tired eyes waiting for him to share with me what he need off the shelf. We were just there, me standing and him sitting.
Finally a small smile crossed his lips and he gave a small nod of his head.
He asked me where I served, I told that I had never been in the military. Again he nodded his head and then told me what he needed. I pulled down what he needed and put it in his basket and started to walk away.
He stopped me and asked if we could sit down in the snack bar area and talk. I still am not sure why I agreed, but agree I did.
He told me that I had the look of a commanding officer that spent a lot of time in the trenches and expects to get the respect he has earned. He also saw in my eyes that I have lost a great deal in that battle which gives me the empathy that most do not have.
He talked for about an hour and a half and I listened for most of it, only speaking when it was needed. He told me that he was put into his wheeled prison on May 17th, 1970, Complements of the “Vietnam war.” That date almost knocked me out of my chair, that was my fourth birthday.
He came home to live in a Veteran’s Hospital for a little over a year. At some point in his stay his wife stopped coming to see him. He wheeled himself out of the hospital right into a crowed of protesters of which pushed him around, spit on him and called him a baby killer.
He got home to find his wife and five year old son were gone. He had to except “pity help” from people until he was able to learn to survive on his own. He told me what kept him going was the hope of getting to see his son again, the one in the old faded picture he carried with him all the time. When he handed me the photo I half heatedly hoped it would have been one of myself, being that I have not met my own father, but the blonde haired kid was not me.
The man named Lynn said he has been following every lead for the last five years hoping it would turn out to be him. I shook his hand and wished the best and gave him one of my business cards and told him to call me if he needed to talk or found his son.
The reason I say everyone has a story? Remember he was a cranky old man in a wheelchair and I was someone who pitied a man without legs at the beginning of the story?
How can you help someone’s story to have a happy ending or at the very least move them in the right direction? Time, that cost me about an hour and a half of my time but the reward for both of us really can’t be measured.
A thought from my man in the mirror to the person in yours; Let God use you to help build someone else up, make a difference in their life or just spread a little joy. Thanks and God bless.
It is hard to believe sometimes how fast time can escape us. This was eight years ago. It only seems like it was a few years back. Eight years just flew by, we are here only for a short time, let’s try not to miss any opportunities to be a blessing. I have no idea whether this man is still alive or even if he’s ever found his son. But I know by spending some time talking to him he had a better day and I received a valuable lesson.
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