NOW HE CAN RUN
By
Randy C. Watts (480) 343-3868
Timmy was eight years old. He watched eagerly as his classmates kicked the soccer ball up and down the field. He would laugh when his friends would run by, and he would clap as each team scored. Every now and then his eyes would light up as one of the children hollered something to him from the field, or as a teacher would pat him on the back while walking by. Timmy did all he could to show his contentment from the confinement of his little wheelchair.
Not many things were easy for Timmy Reynolds. As long as he had been alive, he had suffered from Cerebral Palsy. In his mind he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he knew just what he wanted to say, but his weak little body would not respond to his wishes. That, however, did not stop Timmy from smiling. No matter what was happening on any given day, you could always count on a big smile from him. If he was close enough, he would put his hand out to those he passed, to give them a "high five." Some of the children would gently slap his hand as a friendly gesture, and some would pull their hand away, not wanting to touch him. That was OK. Timmy understood. He knew that he was different from his friends that could run, and he didn’t even get mad at them when they said that he talked funny, and moved in a funny way.
The reason Timmy could accept these hardships is because he knew one other thing; he was a child of God, and one day he would run, too. Sometimes, when Timmy's mom and dad put him in bed, the pain would come. He never told many people about it, but it really hurt. When it got too bad, his dad would call another man from the church, and they would lay their hands on his head while his dad said a special prayer, and he would always feel better.
One day the pain came in the morning and it stayed there all day. Timmy could not even get up to go to school. He had to go into the hospital so the doctors could do a lot of tests. For two-and-a-half weeks the pain got worse. He tried to be brave, but he just could not fight back the tears. His mom told him that when he didn’t think he could stand any more pain, he could think about the story of Jesus on the cross, and how much he must have hurt, too. Timmy closed his eyes and said a little prayer, just like Jesus had done. That night Timmy’s mom and dad came in with another man from the church. They gave him another special blessing, but this time there was something different. His dad didn't say anything about getting better, and when he was all done, there were tears on his cheeks. The hug he gave Timmy was extra long, and his mom seemed very quiet.
The next morning, the kids were running up and down the soccer field. Few of them noticed that the little wheelchair was not on the sidelines. The chair was gone, but Timmy was there, running and laughing beside them. They couldn’t see him, but Timmy was there.
By
Randy C. Watts (480) 343-3868
Timmy was eight years old. He watched eagerly as his classmates kicked the soccer ball up and down the field. He would laugh when his friends would run by, and he would clap as each team scored. Every now and then his eyes would light up as one of the children hollered something to him from the field, or as a teacher would pat him on the back while walking by. Timmy did all he could to show his contentment from the confinement of his little wheelchair.
Not many things were easy for Timmy Reynolds. As long as he had been alive, he had suffered from Cerebral Palsy. In his mind he knew exactly what he wanted to do, and he knew just what he wanted to say, but his weak little body would not respond to his wishes. That, however, did not stop Timmy from smiling. No matter what was happening on any given day, you could always count on a big smile from him. If he was close enough, he would put his hand out to those he passed, to give them a "high five." Some of the children would gently slap his hand as a friendly gesture, and some would pull their hand away, not wanting to touch him. That was OK. Timmy understood. He knew that he was different from his friends that could run, and he didn’t even get mad at them when they said that he talked funny, and moved in a funny way.
The reason Timmy could accept these hardships is because he knew one other thing; he was a child of God, and one day he would run, too. Sometimes, when Timmy's mom and dad put him in bed, the pain would come. He never told many people about it, but it really hurt. When it got too bad, his dad would call another man from the church, and they would lay their hands on his head while his dad said a special prayer, and he would always feel better.
One day the pain came in the morning and it stayed there all day. Timmy could not even get up to go to school. He had to go into the hospital so the doctors could do a lot of tests. For two-and-a-half weeks the pain got worse. He tried to be brave, but he just could not fight back the tears. His mom told him that when he didn’t think he could stand any more pain, he could think about the story of Jesus on the cross, and how much he must have hurt, too. Timmy closed his eyes and said a little prayer, just like Jesus had done. That night Timmy’s mom and dad came in with another man from the church. They gave him another special blessing, but this time there was something different. His dad didn't say anything about getting better, and when he was all done, there were tears on his cheeks. The hug he gave Timmy was extra long, and his mom seemed very quiet.
The next morning, the kids were running up and down the soccer field. Few of them noticed that the little wheelchair was not on the sidelines. The chair was gone, but Timmy was there, running and laughing beside them. They couldn’t see him, but Timmy was there.
Verry verry powerfull writing. I have felt that same power that you have described in the poem. but is it real? did you know somwone that that happened to? ahh like all good writers you probably wont tell.
ReplyDeleteTimmy is real. He represents all the Timmies there are and have been in the world. I have seen several of them growing up, and my heart bleeds for them. The bleeding only stops when I think about the freedom they will eventually have.
ReplyDelete