In my early twenties, I had the privilege of getting to know a man named Tom. He was roughly 10 years older than me, very soft-spoken and always had a smile on his face. Quite honestly, he was one of the most humble and kind men that I have ever known. He loved to shake hands, that is, when people would take the time to get to know him.
Just after he graduated from high school, Tom broke his neck during a hang-gliding mishap. He was rendered a paraplegic. Instantly confined to a wheelchair and with limited use of his arms, he could not even move about unless someone pushed his chair to where he wanted to go.
Voted the most popular student in his senior class in high school, he now found himself outside the social circles and wished that folks would take a chance and get to know him on a deeper level. Sure, acquaintances would chat with him about movies, music, history, politics, etc… but very seldom would anyone breach the “accident” question. He craved deep meaningful conversation and real relationships. He wanted to be known.
At home, Tom had a few people that would stop by during the week to spend time with him. I enjoyed spending Sunday afternoons together. We would normally watch a movie, fly a kite or look at his old “glory days” picture albums, eat Subway sandwiches and would go to Sunday evening church together.
At church, Tom liked to find a place where he could sit in the foyer area before and after the service. Always courteous, he didn’t want to be in the way. People were always friendly but would hurry off to other conversations. Occasionally, however, a few would take the time to sit down next to him and hear about his day.
He lived for those moments.
One evening, after sitting in the foyer, we decided to take off and get our Subway sandwiches. As we made our way through the crowd, the guest speaker (a rather well-known man) stopped us and started to chat with Tom. There was a little small talk and then our guest asked Tom, “Do you mind if I ask why you are in a wheelchair?’
Tom didn’t miss a beat. With a smile on his face, he started talking about how he loved to hang-glide and, in an unfortunate wind updraft, lost control of his aircraft and pummeled head-first into the ground. He talked about how he was happy to be alive, how thankful he was for friends and family… and for God’s grace. “If this had not happened to me, I may have never met Jesus. I can’t wait to hang-glide again in Heaven!”
It was then that I noticed that the foyer was excessively quiet. I looked up to see that all eyes and ears where fixed on Tom and his story.
Our guest speaker thanked Tom for sharing so openly and then asked if he could shake his hand. Tom put on a big grin, lifted his right arm up and extended it the best that he could. His new friend shaped his hand to Tom’s and gave him what he had been longing for… a real handshake.
As we left the church parking lot, I noticed that Tom was unusually quiet. I looked back at him and noticed a tear in his eye.
Tom said with a quiver in his voice, “That was really nice.”
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That is a fantastic story J.W. It really hit me afterward when I realized it is a true story. Thank you for sharing.
Tom sounds like a very interesting person. It is too bad people tend to keep it to just being polite to people in wheelchairs and not get to know them as a person. I am afraid I probably am guilty of this too.
I will remember this story and in the future I am sure I will react differently toward someone in a wheelchair.