Two Wheelchair Stories

My flight home has been canceled because of bad weather in the Northeast. I call Joy (my wife) and tell her the bad news.

“Well do God’s work,” she responds, “look around and see who needs help.”

While still holding the telephone I notice a man in a wheelchair staring at his flight ticket. I approach and ask if I can be of help. He nods explaining his flight has been canceled and he needs to be re-booked.

We make our way to the appropriate counter stopping at the end of a long line of disgruntled travelers. The agent at the counter looks up and notices Earl in the wheelchair (yes we are on a first name basis by now.) The agent motions for us to come forward.

The agent takes Earl’s ticket and begins tapping the keys on the computer in front of him. After a few minutes he hands him a boarding pass. “You are on the next flight to Philadelphia with a connection to Dayton. Should be leaving in about forty minutes”

The agent takes my ticket and looks back to his computer. “Can’t get you to Sarasota today,” he says, “but how would Tampa do?”

That will do fine. My wife drives the hour from Sarasota to Tampa and we have dinner together because I did what she suggested and helped someone in need. By serving others we are ourselves served.

I share this true story during a moment of sharing at South Shore Community Church.

After the service a young lady comes up to me and says, “You need to hear my wheelchair story.”

“I’d like to hear it.’

Over a cup of coffee she tells me. “I was new to this area and I had a medical problem. I had no family or friends here so I drove myself to a nearby clinic. After a preliminary check I was told to sit in the waiting room.

“I was scared to death and shaking with fear. I bowed my head and began praying. I heard God say that He is sending me an angel. I look up. Nothing has changed. People are sitting or leaning in chairs in various degrees of discomfort. I notice an older gentleman in a wheelchair. He smiles when our eyes meet and I decide to go over and talk with him.”

“How are we doing do here?” I ask.

“I’m doing fine. With God’s help I’ll be walking again in a few months.”

He is easy to talk with and we are quickly engaged in a friendly conversation. After a while I hear someone call my name. It is time to see the doctor. At that moment I realize that my fear is gone and talking with this man has made me feel better.

“I have been talking with you all this time and I don’t even know your name. My name is Sherry,” I say holding out my hand.

“Oh,” he smiles taking my hand in his, “My name is Angel.”


Robert Salter and Sherry Sargeant
Sarasota County, Fl.