I met a little boy today whose name was Jimmy. He smiled so big as he wished me a good day. I started to tell him to have a good day too, and then I thought how rude that would sound. So instead, I said, “Keep smiling, Jimmy.” Then I waved to him and walked away. As I walked, I felt sadness enveloping my heart and I wondered how Jimmy could smile so sweetly. How could he be so brave? How could he seem so happy? All day long, I thought about the little boy who had touched me so deeply with his smile. I hoped that soon I would see him again.

A few days later, I was walking down 9th Street, where I had seen Jimmy the first time. I looked all around as I walked slowly down the sidewalk, hoping Jimmy would be close by. Sure enough, I saw him sitting in his wheelchair just a few feet away from me. He was looking in the opposite direction so he did not see me, as I walked up behind him. He seemed engrossed in watching the boys across the street playing basketball. The street kids played baseball from sun-up until dark in an abandoned lot. At least that kept the boys busy and out of trouble. Apparently, Jimmy enjoyed watching them play. I stood quietly not wanting to disturb Jimmy. As I looked at his frail little body in the wheelchair, tears began to sting my eyes. I wondered how Jimmy could seem so happy as he watched the other boys play. Suddenly, I felt extreme anger. If that was I in that chair, I know that I would scream at the top of my voice and say: “It isn´t fair for you boys to play in front of me! Can´t you see that I am not able to play, that I cannot walk?” But Jimmy just cheered the boys on, every time someone made a basket. I found this so amazing and knew that I had to learn more about Jimmy.

As though he sensed someone was beside him, Jimmy turned his wheelchair around and was surprised to see the lady standing beside him. He smiled that big smile of his and said. “Hello, it´s great to see you again! Can you stay and talk with me for a while? I forgot to ask your name the last time I saw you.” Of course my answer was yes, I would be glad to talk with you. It didn´t matter that I would miss lunch, I just wanted to know more about this little boy. I told him that my name was Samantha Goodman.

      

We talked about the boys playing across the street, and I asked his age. He said that he was 10 years old. He also told me that he had never walked or played, but he never once mentioned how he had lost his legs. He told me that he sat there everyday just to watch the boys play, and to pass out Bible tracts that he made himself; to give to anyone who would accept them. I wondered why Jimmy hadn´t mentioned his parents, so I ventured to ask where he lived. I saw a brief look of sadness in Jimmy´s eyes, before he responded to my question.

“I don´t have a home, Mrs. Goodman. I live at the mission down the street.” Samantha knew that in this area of town, there were many homeless people in the neighborhood. I assumed Jimmy´s mother lived there too, so I asked. “Does your mother live there with you, Jimmy?”

Jimmy sighed, then said. “I don´t have a mommy, or a daddy. My daddy died in the war, just after I was born. My mommy left me at the mission four years ago, when I was six. She said that I was too much trouble, and that she would never be able to find another husband if I was around. She told me that it was just too difficult to take care of a crippled boy like me. I don´t blame her though. She just couldn´t accept me as I am. I do okay at the mission though.” His voice was edged with an emotion that I couldn´t comprehend. And his eyes reflected such a deep sadness that I was at a loss for words. I struggled to choke back my tears, but they ran in rivulet down my face. I sensed that he felt awkward and I wasn´t sure what to say. I was searching in my purse for some tissues, when I felt his hand on my arm. “Here, take these” he said, as he handed me some tissues he had taken from his pocket. I smiled through my tears and thanked him, then apologized for crying. I told him I would see him again real soon, and that brought back his wonderful smile. As I started to leave, he handed me one of the Bible tracts and said, “Read this when you have time alone. God bless you, Mrs. Goodman, and I hope to see you real soon!”

I thanked sweet little Jimmy, and assured him that I would read the tract later that evening. He smiled when I told him that I had truly enjoyed his company, and I smiled back and told him good-bye. I had only gone a few feet, when I heard a voice not far from me. The words that were spoken immediately angered me, and I stopped in mid-stride.

“Hey, Mike, you see the lady talking to that kid who can´t play with us? Just look at that cripple, he doesn´t even have any legs! Who does he think he is anyway? Man he has no business talking to an uptown lady! Jimmy, the crippled boy, sure has the nerve!” the boy said to Mike.

I ran towards the boy who had said those cruel things. I was so upset I could barely breathe. As soon as I caught up with the boy, I grabbed his shirt and shook him. At that moment, it didn´t matter to me that the boy was taller than I was, or that I might get into trouble. All that mattered was that this boy needed to learn some manners and respect. The boy was struggling but could not turn around, because I had a tight grip on his shirt. But he said to me, “Hey, lady, whatcha think you´re doing here? If you don´t leave me alone, I am going to yell for the Police!” I didn´t care whom he was going to yell for, because I had something to say to him, and he was going to listen, one way or another. “You horrible boy, what ever possessed you to be so mean to little Jimmy? Don´t you have any respect at all for people with handicaps? Have you no compassion?” Suddenly the boy broke loose from the hold I had on him, and turned around with his fist clenched, intending to hit me. Our eyes met and my heart sank. I was looking into the eyes of my own son, Kevin. I was so ashamed that my son would say such horrible things. The look that I gave Kevin, told him that an apology was in order. Kevin hesitated just briefly, then apologized to Jimmy. After he did so, I also told Jimmy how sorry I was that this had happened. Jimmy said that the other boys often said mean things, spit on him and hit him. Then he turned to Kevin and said, “They spit on Jesus and hit him too, and He forgave them, so I must forgive you too.”

My heart was heavy, and I was silent as we walked home. Once inside our home, I told Kevin that I was very disappointed with him, and I grounded him for 2 weeks. I also told Kevin that he should be thankful that he had two legs and feet to walk on. I went to my room in utter despair, trying to sort out my son´s lack of compassion. I wept every time I thought about my son´s cold-hearted comments, and poor little Jimmy´s situation.

A while later, I remembered that Jimmy had given me one of his Bible tracts. When I took it out of my purse, another piece of paper fell into my lap. It was a letter from little Jimmy, and a photo of Jimmy. On the back of the picture he had written, “I often put on my ball glove and hold the ball and just look out the window. Most of the time I am daydreaming and wandering if anyone plays ball in Heaven.” I knew I would cherish his picture forever. I opened the letter and read his endearing words.

“I smile because I am so happy inside. God gives me all I need here on Earth. But one day, and I hope it is soon, angels will come and carry me to my heavenly home. I will be so excited when I see Jesus, and He will be happy to see me. When I get there I will never have to sit in this wheelchair again. I will have legs and feet, because He will give me a perfect body then! So you see, I have nothing to be sad about, and that is why I can smile no matter what happens to me. I used to hate everyone because I had no legs and I blamed my parents for because I was born with this handicap. But one day, I heard a story about a man named Jesus, and He completely changed my life. He washed away all of my sins and gave me the sweetest peace and happiness. I knew that He would forever be my best friend, my Savior and my God. I was only nine when I gave my life to Jesus, but my life has been hard, so in my mind I feel much older.

I see the world quite differently than others of my age. While they spend their time playing and running and doing all the things normal boys can do, I use my time differently. I do a lot of praying and reading God´s Word, and I enjoy making the Bible Tracts to give to others, and I write letters to people like you, Mrs. Goodman.
Jesus has taught me to be happy no matter what happens to me. I know He is always there with me and angels watch over me too. Jesus took all the hatred I had away, and showed me how to love others.

I know with all my heart, that someday I will have a perfect body and I will run the streets of gold in heaven, and Jesus will be right by my side cheering me on! I long for that day! Always remember that when you are sad, or need a friend, that my Jesus is only a prayer away. He loves you just like He loves me. If you don´t know my Jesus, I would be happy to introduce you to Him. Please read the Bible tract and you will learn much more about my friend Jesus. God bless you, Jimmy.”

I knelt by my bed as bitter tears streamed down my face, and I asked Jimmy´s Jesus to forgive all my sins. I thanked Jesus for His mercy and grace and for bringing sweet little Jimmy into my life. The next day I got up early, hoping to tell Jimmy the good news before I went to work. I rushed to the corner so I could tell Jimmy that I had met his Jesus. I looked all around for him, but couldn´t find Jimmy anywhere. I was disappointed that I couldn´t find him, but I assumed he was still in bed. A young girl had been watching as I looked for Jimmy. I walked to where she stood and asked her if she knew Jimmy. She answered me by saying, “Oh, you mean that crippled kid?” She gave me a look of apathy then said; “He died last night. Didn´t you hear about it on the news?”

I could not believe what I was hearing. Jimmy dead? How could that be? I took a deep breath, and hoped that this girl was wrong. I ran as fast as I could to the mission. I knocked loudly until finally a big man opened the door. Without introduction, I asked him if Jimmy was there. Then I noticed his tear-stained eyes, and the sadness on his face. I knew the little girl was right.

The man looked at me and said, “Jimmy was getting ready to come home for the evening, and he had just disengaged the brake on his wheelchair, when a boy on a motorcycle swerved to miss hitting a car. He lost control of his motorcycle run up into the sidewalk, hitting Jimmy´s chair with his cycle. Poor little Jimmy didn´t even know what happened, he was killed instantly. Jimmy was thrown out of the wheelchair and broke his neck when he hit the concrete. His chair was only slightly damaged, so I brought it back to the mission.

I couldn´t hold back my tears, and the man put his arm about my shoulder and said he was sorry. I thanked him and turned to leave, because my heart was breaking. As I was walking away, the man said, “Jimmy is in good hands now.”

I knew the man was right, and suddenly in my mind´s eye I could see Jimmy´s sweet smile. I remembered his words….‘Someday I will have legs and I will run on the streets of gold!´ I stood wiping my tears, as I look toward Heaven. Somehow I knew that God´s will had been done, and now sweet little Jimmy was resting in the arms of his friend, Jesus. I smiled, knowing that one- day I would again see Jimmy. Then I would thank him for introducing me to Jesus. I looked toward heaven and in silent prayer of joy and sorrow, I asked Jesus to take real good care of our dear, sweet little Jimmy.

Tara Hart © 2002 all rights reserved by the author