A Teacher on a Trike
Jul 17th, 2008 by admin
My wife and I often saw him on our morning walks with Koda, our goofy yellow Labrador retriever. The man was hard to miss with his red helmet, fluorescent orange vest, and the triangular orange flag attached to the back of his adult tricycle. I’d guess he was in his thirties, but I can’t say for sure.
It took weeks before he would acknowledge us or even glance our way. After a while though, he would lift his hand from the handle bar a couple of inches, giving a slight wave. Eventually he would nod his head and shyly smile. Then one morning three years ago he showed us something that we have never forgotten.
I thought I understood what it was, but there was much more to learn. That happens a lot these days. I’ve lived long enough to discover that many concepts I’ve held as “the truth” to be nothing more than a superficial glimpse of something far greater.
On that morning as we were walking, the man suddenly stopped his trike in the middle of street. Jumping off the seat and straddling the trike, he held out his hand. Koda bolted and ran toward him.
The man, ignoring us or anything we said, bent over and embraced Koda. Instead of pulling away or reacting playfully, Koda leaned into the embrace and was completely still as the man quietly whispered to him. Physically they remained just as they were moments before, but the connection between them transcended the physical realm. Both Patsy and I were overcome by a swell of emotion and unable to speak until long after he rode off.
I was reminded of that day when Koda, now 14 years old, stuck his nose in my office this morning to check who was up and about. Almost blind, he uses his nose more than his eyes to navigate his way around the house. He caught my scent, walked up and nuzzled me. As Koda rubbed his head against my leg, I started thinking about that special morning and the man on the trike.
For years, I had thought that it was the man’s purely innocent ability to unabashedly love that had moved me so. But I don’t think that is what created the emotions I felt. This morning I realized something else was at play.
When I saw him pedaling down the street, I saw him as having a disability, as being mentally challenged. I patronized him with an overly friendly wave and smile, not meeting him on his own terms. I felt superior, and then guiltily whispered a prayer of gratitude for all of my abilities. It is true that I have an abundance of advantages, but none greater than the special gifts of the man on the trike.
What I really got in touch with that morning was an empty place in my own heart. That is what moved me. Too often I had restrained my love and guarded it like a precious commodity, doling it out only after careful consideration. Am I being too vulnerable? Am I risking rejection or looking foolish? Will I be misunderstood? Is it appropriate? What will he, she or they think?
What the man had shown me was my own disability. My experience is that these things are revealed at exactly the right moment – when we are ready to learn. That’s when our teacher will appear, and mine was a man on a trike.
