As I pull into the gas station I watch him roll into the convenient store. His socks are only partially pulled over his feet, the excess fabric hanging over the ends of his toes. The shriveled, muscle-less lower half of his body provides the explanation. It's 30 degrees outside and I want to walk over and help him pull them up nice and snug. But instead, I meander toward the back of the store my thoughts returning to the purpose of my visit - to fill up a 32 ounce fountain drink.
When I arrive at the check out line this same man is being helped by the cashier. His desired purchase - a carton of cigarettes.
His shaky hand fumbles through his wallet searching for his debit card. He slowly and carefully raises it to the machine to finalize his transaction.
The amount being owed is $42 and some change.
He swipes the card.
Declined.
The line to check out is getting longer and others like me are staring.
I notice he is wearing a worn armed forces hat, decorated with patriotic pins for his time served.
A veteran.
Is his handicap an affect of the war?
He swipes his card again.
Declined.
He's about the age my Grandpa would be.
My Grandpa who also valiantly served our country.
The veteran once again fumbles through his wallet searching for another method of payment. He triumphantly pulls out $40 in cash, then uses his debit card for the couple dollars remaining.
Declined.
My heart sinks.
The line is getting anxious.
He lowers his head and prepares to leave the gas station.
I think about him traveling all the way back home in his wheelchair
- empty handed.
The work and determination it must have taken to prepare his journey outdoors in the first place.
I think about his socks.
I step forward and pay for the cigarettes.
He humbly says thank you and rolls away.
I want to shout - no thank you!
Thank you for sacrificing your legs, your body, possibly your mind for all of us standing here staring at you.
But no words fall from my lips.
I think of my Heavenly Father.
I know drinking is wrong.
Smoking is wrong.
I am well informed when it comes to the Word of Wisdom.
But maybe this man also offered up a prayer to our Father in Heaven.
Maybe his words went something like this -
Please, help me. Please allow me this one comforting crutch. I tried so hard to get here and now my actions were for naught. Please.
Probably no prayer was offered at all.
But I know our Heavenly Father loves this man.
In my short moment with him - I love this man.
I want him to feel noticed.
To feel like someone cares.
I want to protect his uncovered feet from another trip in the cold.
The cashier hands me my receipt showing approximately $2 paid for cigarettes.
And I feel good.
