A man on wheelchair

I feel like I have won something big tonight! Happiest man, I think, I am. I was able to help push somebody home - I mean, he was on wheelchair and too weak to steer the wheels himself. I was on my way to the seawall to while away the time when I chanced upon him. He was asking, but no passers-by would help him out. My turn came, and I gladly pushed him home. I never cared when faces of the neighborhood turned sour seeing me pushing the wheelchair. It led me to think - Is this man a problem, a scum in that place? Whatever! I must help somebody needing help regardless of who he is. This is serving God, I told myself. When we reached his home, he never thanked me. I never cared. What matters most to me is: I am able to help and I am happy. I was able to push Lord Jesus home.

I met him before on the street. He was alone and wounded. His forehead was blood-tainted, swollen. Wheelchair was parked. He was resting. I thought, those near him were his companions. I merely passed by - but my heart was restless. I went back, I asked what happened. I fell from my wheelchair while crossing the street, he told me. He is a diabetic - with his right lower leg amputated. I wanted to help him - but I had no money. He said, I am OK. I am just resting from a fall. I rubbed his shoulder with my hand, and said I have to go. He thanked me. I could only pray.