Joanna Davidson captures in a few short paragraphs that which life is about.
My heart had the privilege of being touched by a woman I met purely by accident. I was visiting someone from my church at a nearby nursing care facility and happened to stop to fix a name plate that had slipped. I took that moment to gaze down the hall at the various residents in wheelchairs, some responsive and some not. A radio or TV buzzed from the nurse’s station. Was it painful to work there? Emotionally draining?
A voice called out to me from the crooked-sign room. “Got a minute there?” It was a white-haired, slightly mustached woman in a long flowered dress, sitting crooked in a wheelchair.
“Of course. Do you need help?”
“Why, yes I do. I want you to answer a question for me.” She wheeled to her dresser with a few grunts and dug in a drawer brimming with unfolded clothing. Out came a gorgeous picture…
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