Mindful.Aware.

I want to tell you a story.

This happened last week.

At the gym.

With my 44 ounce Coke Zero in hand.

Let me preface this story by saying this:

I have noticed over the course of my life, and especially over the last year and a half, that because of my trials I am better able to minister.

Because of the things I have experienced, I am more aware.

More mindful.

More in awe and inspired by others.

I am more able to relate, and much more able to have empathy.

Because of the hardest things in my life, I am able to be a genuine instrument in God's hands.

I find that I am very, very aware and mindful of those who have neurological deficiencies. 

I find that my eyes go right to them.

I watch them movements and I find that I am rooting for their rise all the while.

There is an older couple who is at the gym often.

A tall, lanky man. He is balding. His glasses show that he is in no hurry to get Lasik. He looks to be in good physical shape.

A short, fragile woman. She is Asian. Beautiful. She also wears glasses. She depends on her husband for everything, I observe.

She holds to him to walk. He readies her by putting on her gym shoes, her gloves, her sanitized towel. Then, he walks her to one of the three machines she uses while there.

He is protective, and watches out for her from a distance.

But allows her to work.

Last week, I was just finishing one of the three machines that I know she uses regularly.

I kept my eye on them, just four feet or so, away from me.

I hurried to clean the machine thoroughly for her, then moved to the one right next to it.

He walked her over and sat her down.

I smiled widely at her, as I faced her simply because of the exercise I was doing.

She is very soft-spoken.

She said to me, under her mask, "I have Parkinson's."

I said, "I know. I know you do."
She nodded.

Then she said, "It is hard."

I put down my weight and got a little closer.

I said, "I know it is. But you are doing it. And, I watch you. I see you. You inspire me. I need you here."

She said, "Why? I am weak."
I said, "Oh, no. No you are not weak. You have every excuse to be at home; to never come here. But you do."

She said, with a giggle, "He makes me!"

I laughed with her.

I said, "I had a stroke three years ago."

She nodded.

"So you understand me?"
"Yes, I understand you. I understand the frustration. The fear. The sadness. The confusion."
She said, "Somedays I ask why me!"

I said, "I did too. And it took me three years to say, Why not me?!"

I squeezed her hand which reminded me so much of my Grandma Robb's hand and I moved on to the next machine... across the gym.

I finished my workout and headed over to the area where I stretch.

She was sitting in that area on a box, waiting for her husband.

I began doing my 50 squats of the day, then stretched.

She sat just a few feet away from me.

She said, "I can't do that anymore."

I asked, "Tell me. What do you miss the most?"

She said, "My freedom."

I nodded.

I went close to her.

I told her I understood.

She asked about my stroke.

About the time frame between paralyzed and able to go to the gym.

It was almost a full year before I could go on my own.

She talked about depending on her husband for everything.

I said to her, "Your husband is who I noticed first. I hope that every man in this gym takes note of how he treats you. It is the way it is supposed to be. He adores you. He sacrifices for you. He is careful, tender and gentle with you. He loves you in a way that is tangible to strangers."

She said, "Yes. He does love me so."

I said, "What a blessing. To have a husband who has dedicated his life to caring for and supporting his beloved. I, too, have a husband like that. He is a gift that I cherish and don't take for granted."

She told me of a brain surgery she had just seven months ago.

She told me of motherhood. She has three boys. I have six.

She talked to me about her sleep, medications, her routine.

I listened and nodded.

I felt love for this woman who I had just met.

Love and empathy that I would not have had the opportunity to feel in such a beautiful way had I not, too, experienced a great trial.

I asked her if she would trust me to walk her back to the bench, where her loving husband waited patiently.

She said she did.

So, hand in hand we walked the 20 yards, or so.

Her husband stood in respect for these two women.

She said, "She have stroke."
He said, "Oh, really?!"
She said, "Yes. And she loves me."

I emphatically said, "Yes, yes I do!"

Then I told him what I told her.

I thanked him for the way he treats her, the way he loves her, the way he has complete respect for her and that I hoped all men in the gym took note.

He said to me, "Rose and Ralph. I'm Rose."

I laughed.

I squeezed her hand again.

And, I left.

On the way home, I prayed a prayer of gratitude to God for blessing me with a stroke.