Kindness of Strangers

Outside the Hobby Lobby I crutch, push the cart, crutch again, creep to my trunk in the handicap space.

A woman hurries past me—then stops, summoned by my crutch and push. She comes and takes the cart’s handle,

mid-crutch, asks where my car is. “Were you in an automobile accident?” “No.” I say. “A fat man fell on my head.”

It’s the shortest story for strangers. Usually, they smile. This woman nods.

“I’m a nurse. My daughter was in a car accident last year. She can’t walk.” “Yet?” I ask, but she shakes her head

matter-of-fact like this happens every day. “Make sure you follow your rehab,” she advises. “You’re too young to be

so slowed down.” At the trunk she lifts the bags in for me. Before she leaves, she takes my hand. “What’s your name?

Now, I’ll make sure to pray for you.”