THE WOMAN IN THE RED KNIT HAT

The weather wasn't conducive to an outdoor car show, with only 40 cars in a small town in the middle of Central Texas. Rain and cool temperatures forced us to stay inside the car while people walked by, looking into our 67 Chevy Malibu engine and admiring the car's blue exterior. One could only imagine the memories that the car evoked.

I watched an older woman on a cane begin to carefully make her way down the street in front of the cars on display. I took particular notice of her because I still used a cane after dislocating my hip two months ago. As she got closer, I noticed an ileostomy bag full of urine hanging prominently on the lower part of her exposed leg. I beckoned to her as I rolled down my window. A broad smile crossed her face as she approached my window and noticed the two dogs sitting in my lap. A red knit cap covered her hairless head, and her eyebrows were expertly drawn in a soft upside-down semi-circle above vibrant blue eyes.
We chatted about the dogs as she petted their soft fur. A huge smile never left her face as she began sharing her story of recovering from cancer, losing her hair, and experiencing difficulty walking. Despite her condition, nothing would stop her from coming out on a cold, drizzly day to see the antique cars. At some point, I pointed to the cane resting next to my feet and told her we were kindred sisters, although I knew whatever I had gone through for the past two months was nothing compared to her journey. She shared with me that she was in her late seventies. I was surprised as I thought she was much older. The cancer had aged her considerably but had not taken her joyful spirit.
She wanted to know our entry number to cast her vote for us. "I'll do that right now," she promised as we watched her slowly and perhaps painfully make her way back in the direction from which she had arrived.
Our brief interaction inspired and humbled me at the same time. I've gone through periods of tearful self-pity the past two months after my hip dislocated. I was resentfully stuck in a wheelchair for six weeks, terrified that I would be immobile indefinitely. Even though I intellectually knew that I would recover, it was emotionally difficult to accept a lack of mobility in addition to hating being utterly dependent on someone else for basic needs. I was reminded by this lovely woman that we choose how we react to whatever befalls us. We can choose to handle it with grace and joyfulness for the mere fact that we're still alive. I want to be more like her. Sometimes people come into our lives to show us the way. As she gingerly walked away with her husband by her side, I said a silent prayer for her recovery. I believe with all my heart that she will survive.
Isn't it wonderful when people appear in your life just when you need them the most?


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