As I pulled into the convenience store parking lot, I couldn’t help but notice a man with gray hair sitting in his wheelchair. I parked my car, ready to find someone who could benefit from a little company. At first, I kept staring at the man as he skillfully maneuvered his wheelchair and how he avoided colliding with others and rolled his wheelchair to the edge of the parking lot, away from the vehicles. I also noticed him tightly clutching a bag of chicken nuggets as he alternated one hand with the other to move closer to the end of the building.
I finally stepped from my car to give him water and scripture cards to read. His marble-blue eyes glistened, and he dropped his nuggets when I bumped his arm with my clumsy self.
The panic on his face was clear, and he stared at me, then at the ground. And he couldn’t quite reach his meal on the pavement. I offered to fix the problem. “Let me buy you some more food. I’ll run over to that fast-food restaurant. I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back.”
