The Bottom of the Well

The wheelchair is computerized and hung with all manner of electronic gages and life support systems. It breathes for her and monitors her heart and other internal organs. She is strapped in like an astronaut except for the fact that there are wires and tubes and lighted displays everywhere. Her head, feet and arms are immobilized, her body held rigidly upright. She drinks through a straw and eats through an IV while machines process her waste material. She is alive but only just, I think and am immediately horrified by my reaction, ashamed to have thought such a thing. She smiles at me and I wave - a gesture so small and insignificant that it appalls me when I think it's something she will never do. She and her husband join a group of friends, slipping in easily and becoming part of the circle at once - they make room for the bulky chair without a second thought, possibly not even noticing it - it's as much a part of her as their own limbs are of them. There is no pity here, no guilt, no one looks away or pretends not to see her. This, I think, is what redeems us, this is hope and acceptance and courage in the face of unimaginable adversity and unfairness.

This would be the very bottom of the well for many people, myself included, but she has chosen differently,
bravely, and optimistically. If she is not defeated, how can I possibly complain about my lot in life? Gratitude is often forgotten in the dull routine of struggle and we can lose sight of how much we have, how much we can do, of all the taken for granted things we encounter from one day to the next. To be alive is a wondrous thing and to be grateful is a means of beating back all the petty resentments and slights, all that is not up to standard, all that we would change to suit just ourselves and all the perceived flaws in others. Here is a young woman deprived of all but her mind, soul, and heart -

What she lacks in mobility, she makes up for in perseverance.
What she lacks in freedom, she counters with faith.
What she lacks in a conventional life, she misses but does not mourn.

I don't know her illness or her circumstances but it matters little because she is so much more than either. Her smile and soft spoken hello remind me that every day is a gift even without wrapping paper and ribbon.