A Stranger's Message

Shortly after Frank's accident, during his hospital stay, I would visit him every day after work. The days were long and arduous, and leaving Frank when visiting hours ended was heartbreaking. At the end of one such visit, as I walked through the dark parking lot towards my car, I heard a man's pleasant voice call out, "Hi there."

Looking around, I saw a young man sitting in the passenger seat of a parked car. He smiled at me and continued speaking in a kind voice. "I'm just waiting here for a friend to return. You see, I can't get out of the car. I have lymphatic filariasis in my leg."

I had no idea what lymphatic filariasis was.

"Come look at my leg!" He motioned with his head. I would typically never approach a stranger in a parked car. I hesitated, but something about him roused my curiosity. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I can hardly move."

I looked around the parking lot for any sign of danger, noticing people coming and going. The car was in a well-lit area, so I slowly approached, getting just close enough to peek in the window. What I saw shocked me. The man's right leg was twice the size of his left leg and looked very painful. I was surprised that he seemed so happy.

"Are you visiting someone in the hospital?" He asked.

"Yes. I'm here visiting my boyfriend. He broke his neck, and he's paralyzed."

 "I'm sorry," The man continued speaking in a soothing voice. "But you know everything will be OK."

 "Really?" I responded quickly, angry with his assumption considering Frank's condition. "What do YOU know about ME?"

"Oh, I know a lot." The man calmly continued. "I know you have a family that loves you. You drive a nice car, and you have a good job."

I was impressed but skeptical. These things were true, but the man could be guessing. Maybe he saw me leave my car and assumed I had a good job because I drive a nice car. "Well, if you know so much, tell me if my boyfriend will ever walk again!"

"I don't know if he'll walk again, but I know you love each other and can live a contented life together." This young man's peaceful presence and the way he spoke encouraged me to believe him.

"I hope you're right." I turned with tears in my eyes and slowly walked away.

I have analyzed that short conversation many times over the years. His words, 'Contented life together,' have repeatedly replayed in my mind. I realize now that the young man, sitting in the parked car, cursed with lymphatic filariasis, was no man. He was an angel sent to give me a message of hope that gifted me the strength to carry on.