A lesson in humility

We have this friend I've been visiting, she's our old driver's daughter.  She's 30 years old, and completely paralyzed.  Her life for the last year has taken place in a small living room of her parents' house.  One major obstacle (out of many) to her recovery is a large bedsore.  She's had it for a year and it won't go away.  This part isn't the reason why this post is entitled "A Lesson in Humility." 

Today I went to see her, and took a couple big bags of food that I'd carefully researched and knew they would help her nutrition.  I was feeling pretty proud of myself for putting so much time and effort into this nutrition plan.  I had driven an hour one way to see her.  After a lovely visit in which I completely butchered the language (that's normal, also not the reason for the title) I left, still feeling pretty happy with myself.

Ellie having her hands massaged by a volunteer with some PT experience.

On the way back to the car I passed a man, a woman and her two kids.  (THIS part is the reason for the title.) The man pointed at me and said to the kids, "Hey! Go poke her belly and ask her why it looks like that!"  Then the mother grabbed her kids and said, "No, don't go near her!"  And then I realized, I'm not that big of a deal. 

Then I spent the hour drive home wishing I was quicker/wittier/wiser so I could have said something funny or profound or at least a little embarrassing to that man.  Instead I just stared at him and thought, "How 'bout I poke your FACE and we'll see what's wrong with YOU!"  Obviously, that wasn't an option, so I just smiled and kept walking.