"There but for the Grace of God go I"

That was one of my father's favourite sayings and he quoted it whenever he saw someone who was disabled, or in some way less fortunate than us. Today I was reminded of Dad yet again when I was sitting having a coffee and muffin in our shopping centre. Two men - one pushing the other in a wheelchair, sat down at a table at the far end of the cafe so they wouldn't be in anybody's way. The man in the wheelchair was severely disabled, his head lolling on one side and his eyes rolling much of the time. His friend carefully spoon-fed the disabled man, and held a cup for him to drink from.

When I finished my coffee, I approached the men and introduced myself. I asked the carer if he was related to the disabled man and he said no, but he was his carer. As I had my work uniform on, he could see I worked in the same field, and we had a brief discussion about our work. While we were talking, the disabled man took my hand and kissed it several times, and I let him hold my arm while I chatted to his carer, who after a brief second of embarrassment, said "He's still a womaniser!"

I asked if his friend was an accident victim and was told yes - he had collided with a tram while riding a motorcycle - 17 years ago. I turned to the disabled man and started to tell him that I also used to ride a bike and had been in a bad accident once, but his friend said "He can't hear you, he is deaf". I leant forward and gave him a kiss, and the carer thanked me for stopping to chat. Most people walk by quickly, averting their gaze because they are uncomfortable seeing 'abnormal' people out and about. I have the opposite reaction; I just want to go and hug them and say "I know you are still a real person inside that terrible cage". I don't go that far of course, but I usually stop to smile and shake a hand or chat if I have time. Can I convince you to feel a little compassion next time you see a fellow human being in a cage?