A humbling moment

I had just stepped out of the movie theatre, buoyed by the feel-good message of the movie about a young woman who, having lost her soul, found it again. The sun was still out and shoppers milled about in front of shops and cafes. I had just turned a corner, silently smiling at my memory of a scene in the movie, when I saw the child. The child was dressed in plaid blue shorts and blue top. I couldn't immediately determine the child's gender, although I assumed it was a boy, given his attire. He was walking slowly, almost like a mummy one see's in the silent movies, and his arms and legs were wrapped in a blue hoisery-type fabric. His head was covered in the same blue fabric, which was wrapped around thick white gauze. Around his left wrist remained a hospital ID tag. He was walking around ever so slowly, almost painfully, with two women who chatted quickly in Spanish, admiring the wares displayed at each store. They almost didn't seem aware of the child's state.

As I walked past the child, I saw his face and it almost brought me to tears. Violent, red scars covered his entire face, save two beautiful brown eyes cast down. I could tell he was in pain - both physically and emotionally, both from his burns and the awareness that everyone around him was looking at him. I felt such pity for that child and could not keep from looking at him. His eyes were beautiful, yet full of knowledge - knowledge of pain, suffering, sadness. I wanted to hold him, invite him to dinner, buy him every toy his little heart desired. Anything to take that look out of his eyes.

As the pedestrian light came on at my crosswalk and the child walked by me, trying to quietly avoid people standing in his path, I felt humbled and ashamed. I had been feeling so sorry for myself these past few weeks, wallowing in my depression and self-pity. And then I saw that child, and I realized that I do not know true pain or suffering like he does. Tomorrow looks bright for me, but his entire body will forever remain scarred, a constant reminder of his accident and the pain he endured.

When I got home, I cried for that boy and I sent a little prayer out to God to bless him. I do not know his name or whether I will see him again but he humbled me without one word or action.