Walking a Straight Line

As I roll through the crowd, I call out, "I am right next to you."  The man hops a small step to his right.

 "I didn't see you," he says quickly. 

"No problem. I am short these days.  It seems I shrunk quite a bit," I quip. 

He chuckles at my lame joke as I roll pass. 

Commuting by wheelchair requires more attentive concentration than driving. The able-bodied are unaware of their environment as they walk along. Many are distracted with window-shopping, talking with friends, or listening to music. The most dangerous are those talking or texting on their phones. But, they all wander down the street. 

When I was a walker, I was a wanderer, also.  Never did it occur to me that I was not walking in a straight line. Not until I started to roll did I become aware of how often people really do a small weave as they walk.  They wander.  They wander and they fail to see.  The wheelchair rider does not exist to them.

If we fail to see God, is it because He does not exist? 

The next time you see someone in a wheelchair. . .