We have a handicapped neighbor who struggles past our house several times a week, pulling a series of wagons. Quite often, the first one contains three or four children, and two other wagons tag along behind. Sometimes, his wife accompanies him, pushing a stroller holding a couple more babies. When they return, the wagon train is overflowing with groceries. The kids sit like quiet little angels, enjoying their outing. It seems they understand that Dad is doing the best he can, and they don't want to add to his burden. We appreciate and applaud his tenacity, but at the same time, we're quietly giving thanks that we're not in his shoes!
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