Little Girl Lesson

She was there at the bus stop, waiting like the others.  Her bus was yellow too, but was smaller with a wheelchair lift in a grid of patterned, painted metal.  Cars were parked behind her mother’s older van.  One…two…three…waiting impatiently.

It was late spring in the coolness of warm weather-to-be.  Flowers and trees bloomed everywhere.  Pink and purple or double blooms of white, smelling fragrantly.  At the corner, children pressed buttons to roll down windows.   Heads of boys hung out side to see what the commotion was all about.  Girls who couldn’t care less, texted in back seats while chewing gum and clicking tongues.

Air, still damp wafted through hallows of vacuumed cars.  Birds in high, high branches tweeted songs from above, while warming engines shut down from below.   Healthy kids who took dancing lessons in afternoons or batted balls early in nights, didn’t know or understand what they waited for.

There was a hidden motor buzzing like baby bees helping to ‘lift’ a lower platform to the ground.  Suddenly, children’s eyes looked carefully.  They saw a young woman with a pony tail of glazed copper standing under a sky of blue together with a round of gold.  From the side, she guided forms of metal gently to the ground.

The aged van that was parked behind the mini yellow, held a dainty girl together with her waiting mother.  The van was grey in color with a magic sliding door that suddenly opened revealing a ‘lift’ much like the mini-bus of yellow.  Sitting on top was a miniature wheelchair holding a delicate child with skin of white and hair of red.  The ‘lift’ lowered her to the ground where her mother waited, protectively.  She brushed air curls of hair away, something simple that her daughter could not do with arms not able to work like yours or mine.

Other children who had walked, stopped to stare.  Not to tease or gloat or bully.  Without saying a word, the little girl sitting in the wheelchair spoke volumes.  In a matter of minutes, a major lesson had been taught.  Other children realized how lucky they were to run and jump and dance and play.  No more taking God’s gifts for granted!  Live life to the fullest each and every day.

Be thankful in every way.

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31 thoughts on “Little Girl Lesson

  1. A boy in my neighborhood rides a specially equipped bus. Seeing him, and his mom, always prompts a prayer for his day and his life. Thanks for the reminder to hold up others who have significant hardships. Impatient? How can impatience be my response to someone else’s difficulty? Talk about a hard heart!


    • Not from you, Kelly. So kind you are to send your prayers. These children probably passed on their ‘lesson’ to older ones who hadn’t yet learned…


  2. This lesson brought tears.. the little girl with red hair reminding me of my Granddaughter who is free to run and jump, laugh and play.. We have so many Gifts to be thankful for Kim.. Thank you for reminding us all of the ones we each take for granted each day..

    Love Sue xoxox


    • Thank you, Sue. I have seen a little girl (much like this beautiful child) together with her dear mother at their bus stop each day. When my son was very young, I used to remind him of these very things every time he needed an insulin shot. He never complained, but I wanted him to know how ‘lucky” he was, in spite of everything.


  3. How wonderful to discover your blog! Beautiful story that resonated with me…for I lived it. Yes. I was the mom with the red haired boy, angelically beautiful, like the little girl. Wheelchairs and ramps, hospitals and leg braces. A joyfulness of spirit and gratitude for all things big and small that knew no bounds. We were allowed to have him for 23 years. Thank you for a trip down memory lane. Be well. ~Karen~


    • You have touched my soul as I have tears spilling, sweet ‘Mother’ of little boy lost. I can relate to you so well, although, of course I can never ‘feel’ your pain. Days and nights and many years, I lived with ‘life and death’ so close to me. Today, I thank the Lord profusely for my son’s fruitful life along with improved technology. May God, bless your sweet son in Heaven together with you, his beloved mother…who will be with him forever whether here below or in the skies above. FYI, I will ‘whisper’ this to you…I have a dear friend who calls me, ‘Karen.’ I haven’t had the heart to correct him, but I do think you should know my real name is, Kim. I believe we may be corresponding. I don’t want you to ever wonder who this, “Kim” person in the future may be….Thank you for making my whole life here at WordPress, worth every single letter typed upon my keyboard. Every moment, every thought I couldn’t grasp, every second passed, all wrapped up in a single comment seared within your soul. Blessings to you, always.


  4. Aww- so glad that my words touched your heart, Kim (though I didn’t mean to make you cry.) Did I call you Karen? I’m Karen 🙂 I look forward to getting to know you through the blogosphere. For us to continue to inspire, touch and lift each other up. Be well. ~Karen~


    • I apologize for mixing up the names. You are, ‘Karen.’ I will not forget, and I look forward to reading your blog. We definitely will be in touch. Blessings to you from my heart.


      • No worries, Kim. I thought I actually did have a ‘menopausal moment’ – precious as they are! It will be our private joke! 🙂
        I hope you have a wonderful weekend full of love and laughter, my friend. Be well. ~Karen~


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