It all began with a conversation that never happened. I had recently done a really cool hike and was anxious to tell everyone about the sights and sounds of the fascinating place I had been. That next Sunday morning, one of the first persons I encountered coming into church, was Debi Rosen. Debi has been confined to a wheelchair for almost 20 years from a car accident. At 70 years old, Debi is one of those individuals that positively radiates sweetness and is one of my favorite people on earth.
As I approached her, I wanted so badly to excitedly share my recent hiking experience, but found myself in the throws of a mental wrestling match---“Do I?, don’t I?, do I, don’t I?” The words caught in my mouth and I ultimately decided not to tell her, fearful that my excitement would actually be insensitive, because what I was about to share was impossible for her to ever experience herself. In hindsight, I am convinced that God held my tongue that day.
As I approached her, I wanted so badly to excitedly share my recent hiking experience, but found myself in the throws of a mental wrestling match---“Do I?, don’t I?, do I, don’t I?” The words caught in my mouth and I ultimately decided not to tell her, fearful that my excitement would actually be insensitive, because what I was about to share was impossible for her to ever experience herself. In hindsight, I am convinced that God held my tongue that day.
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