|Photo credit: anitapatterson|
The sky was starry and the mist was rolling in as I wheeled his chair onto the lawn. Pointing to a green, luscious garden he told me his sad story. Compared to my spindley, little spikes his garden was enviable. I wheeled the paralytic's chair to the garden entrance going around the persimmon plant. For a few quiet minutes we inspected the carefully carved sign on the gate. I could tell lots of love had been put into this property. Sad to see it overgrown with weeds the man lovingly laid his hand on the picket gate. As we sat in the twilight I caught a sigh and heard him pray, "You, oh Lord, are my only strength. Please bless this poor garden. I do not have any strength of my own to protect these plants, oh Lord, so please bless someone with the work I've put into it." As I wheeled him slowly to the house a tear rolled down my cheek. What a godly man--even in time of trouble.
Copyright 2012 by Anna W.
(5 words: enviable, persimmon, entrance, spike, paralytic)