i could have danced all night...

I Could Have Danced All Night

As I neared the state to address the southern Californias public high school audience, I saw a young lady a few rows ahead of me sitting in a wheel chair. When I see students with physical disabilities, I always take a little extra time to talk with them and encourage them.

I approached the girls chair from behind, and when I turned to greet her, my chin dropped to my kneecaps. I stared in speechless awe.

Im sure I looked like a fool, but I was stunned by the exquisite beauty of the person who smiled back at me. I tried to speak, but only unintelligible garble escaped my lips.

I was overcome, not by the fact she had lost both her legs as a result of spina bifida, but rather by her extraordinary beauty.

Her makeup was flawless, her hair coiffed to perfection, her manicure impeccable, and she sported a smile that would melt the northern ice caps. But hers wasnt just external beauty. The girl radiated with the charm of a gentle and peaceful spirit.

I extended my hand and made another attempt to speak still, all I could manage was a jumble of gibberish. . Like a little boy infatuated with his first grade teacher, I was falling all over myself.

Her compassion for me seemed to reflect experience. She, no doubt, had dealt with countless others who found themselves in my predicament.

She told me her name. I mumbled something dumb and turned to walk away, still muttering to myself. As I did, I ran into a solid wall of flesh.

He was probably 66 with shoulders about three feet wide. Muscles bulged from his folded arms, and the look on his face seemed to suggest I was on his turf.

I smiled lamely, eased around him, and started for the stage again.

Before I stepped up on the platform, a teacher who had been talking with some students, and evidently hadnt seen the encounter, stopped me. Did you meet the girl in the wheel chair? she asked.

Yes, I replied, She is one of the most beautiful girls I have ever seen.

And did you meet the young man standing beside her?

You mean the walking wall? Is he a competition weight-lifter or something?

No.

Seeing the puzzled look on my face, she told me the story.

Two years ago he was a skinny nerd who pestered everyone on campus. Then one day he tried to talk to the girl in the wheelchair. When he did, he walked away muttering to himself, totally infatuated.

From that day one, he started arriving at school just as the janitors were opening the buildings. Hed go straight to the gym and work out in the weight room until the first bell. For two years hes kept at it, all in preparation for last week.

Oh? Was there a body-builders contest? Mr. America? Mr. Universe? I thought I was beginning to understand.

No. It was the prom.

Totally perplexed, I questioned, The prom?

Yes, the teacher replied, He worked out for two years so he could dance with her at the prom. And last week, for two solid hours, he carried her as they danced. Not once did he put her down.

She has now accepted his proposal of marriage, and we are elated!

I made my way up on the stage with the thought pounding in my head and in my spirit: Here is a guy who has already chosen to follow the Biblical command which says a husband is to love his wife as Christ loved the church and lay down his life for her.

Yes, thank God, there are still millions of decent, loving, caring young people in America who understand true value and worth.

- Reprinted from Nobodys Ever Cried for Me by Dave Roever

God please... a prayer

God, please… A Prayer by LaDonna Witmer

I have a thousand words to say to you. Ten thousand unfinished fragments all locked in my head, all waiting for you to pick them out and examine them, analyze them, answer them individually. I know I could just spill them out, but they don't fall so easily.

I want to talk to you, God. Want to listen, to know you. But I don't know how to begin. I want to pray to you. Want to pray without stopping—no pausing, no fumbling—but I don't even know how to begin.

All I seem to be able to say is a feeble, "God, please … " that I never complete.

And yet that "God, please" is the ache of my soul. I'm unable to finish, but all I want is to get close to you, to turn your head. To know you are listening to me, even though I cannot see you.

So should I constantly chatter to catch your attention? Or are my two words enough?

I have so many other thoughts stashed in my head, but if I let you hear them, would you listen? Could you, who are perfect, understand my faltering, imperfect speech?

That's what I'm really afraid of, you know. I'm afraid you want to hear eloquent soliloquies, and I don't have anything but my poor stuttering tongue.

So God, please … show me where to go with my words when I cannot find the right words to say.

Because I do want to know you. More than anything.