Wheelchair, or wheel chair...

It was another scorcher of a day here in *******, British Columbia, Canada. I put shorts on for work for the first time since about early October of last year (not October of this year, for obvious reasons). My new laborer/co-worker/friend and I slapped up some CD gypsum board onto a dropped ceiling in about three hours, and then it was home time. This was a very large, ocean side/ocean view/some-of-the-homes-were-actually-on-the-ocean, 55+ housing development a couple of tens of minutes from town. It was so full of beautiful gardens and moist, lush landscapings, that it smelled like a rainforest even with the windows rolled up in my 94 Sunbird. For many years of my life I was sure I did not want to live to be 55+, what with the senility, arthritis, and uncontrollable bladder. But now that I have seen this heaven sloping gently on the oceanfront, I am starting to believe that there is something to this whole "retirement" deal.

Anyways, I get home around 4ish, mountain pacific, and I figure I will change my oil, as I have all of the necessary supplies, I had been putting it off, and since the light that said "check oil" had recently been lit up. When all is said and done, I end up remembering that one of my brake lights is shot, so I quickly pull out the bulb ("I" meaning "my dad"), and head to the nearest service station in my parents' car. Easily obtaining the new bulb, and quite full of myself for doing so many wonderful things today, drywall, oil, and light bulbs, I head back home, and notice a man in a wheel chair (wheelchair?), pushing himself up a gradual, but long, incline.

Immediately, and this is like, I didn't think, "I wonder why he is in a wheel chair," or, "that looks hard to do," but instead, I immediately thought, "I should park this car, get out, and offer to push him to wherever he is going." Now, this guy did not look very old, as in, he wasn't like a helpless, rich, 80 year old with a house on the ocean like the other senior folk that I recently saw shuffling about. He actually looked like someone in their forties, slightly big in both size and belly, but at the same time it just seemed like he was having a hard time with this hill. It was probably a good half of a kilometer (third of a mile for you Americans), and it could have been longer and steeper, depending on where he was headed. He was not struggling, as I am certain that he has been in that wheel chair long enough to know what he is capable of in the category of hills and inclines. I'm sure he is sitting at his destination this very moment, thinking about anything but how hard that hill was for him to climb, but like I was saying, my first thought after noticing the man was to get out, and push him where ever he was going. I'm sure it couldn't have been too far. I think I could push any wheel chair, uh, person farther than they could push themselves. I am a slightly fit guy. Look out ladies. So here I am, wanting to stop in the middle of the very non-rush hour traffic, and approach a capable, most likely prideful man, and offer to aid him in his journey to who knows where. Of course, wrestling with the doubts, and thinking things like, "he won't trust a stranger to do that for him," and, "he won't accept my help anyways, cause it would be too strange an offer for him to accept." As usual, by the time these thoughts were thought, I had long passed the man, and felt like it was too late to change my mind.

It seems like every day, and it could very well be everyday, that I have a chance to do something for someone else. Something big, but not that big. Something that would be greatly appreciated, but not six-0-clock news worthy. I mean, I know for a fact that everyday I have an opportunity to help people, and most of the time I do, but these big things, the things that would really be noticed by whoever it is that I am helping, those are the things I want to stop doubting my ability to try and do, and just do it.

So many people need that kind of generous love everyday. Just plain old kindness. I am generous, I am loving, and I am a pretty kind guy! So why do I get the doubts when I do? Why must I lack courage when it is tested? Why can't I just do it, and then regret it later if it was something I shouldn't have tried. Regretting something that was done with the best intentions afterward, I think, would be much better than not doing it at all, and wondering if I should have. Now, I am quite tall, not built, but big, and very unshaven most days, with long untamed hair (just enjoying it while I still have it). Despite all of me that could intimidate these strangers, I have a true desire to just throw myself at people! I want to help with groceries at the Safeway, and give money to people who need it, and now, I especially want to help people in wheel chairs ascend gradual inclines. Maybe even NON-gradual ones! I mean, why can't I just give myself to people who need help? I should where a t-shirt that says, "I Am Capable! Ask Me For Help When You Need Some!" I want everyone to be before me, to come first in my mind, to be receiving from me all that I can give, but I lack the courage and desire when it counts most.

It's like, everyone wants to be a super hero, right? Who doesn't? At least, not in the struggling to maintain your secret identity sense, but the being able to help people who need it sense. I want to be a hero, but something in me just wants to hold me back from everything I truly want. Like Kryptonite, or some kind of anti-hero thing. Obviously it is just my own self, being greedy, and wanting to sin and disobey God's Word. He wants me to give myself to others more than I want it for myself. I'll just have to pray for the eyes to see my opportunities, and the courage to take the chances I receive. I hope he changes me in that way.