Not Known but Noticed

               I am known.  More accurately stated, I am noticed at the Fitness Center on the Eastern Illinois University campus since my husband and I began our twice weekly work outs about ten months ago.  Students, many in snazzy, close fitting outfits are the main exercisers, but many older adults come, also.  Of all who go in and out, I believe I am the only cushion-carrying, cane-dependent visitor.

               The first “observations” came from retired women using the center.  A very chatty, active woman on a machine next to me commended my commitment to keep exercising one day.  It was a morsel of encouragement I appreciated greatly.  Another woman, a doctor from India, called to me as I walked toward her at the local hospital complex.  She asked if I used the center and then applauded my efforts to exercise despite my physical challenges, adding a doctorly question, “Are you taking fish oil?”  Words of kind recognition in a world where one can feel invisible and alone at times bring blessing.

               My first impression of a retired professor riding an exercise bike as we briefly talked about the budget impasse in Illinois had not been a favorable one.  However, as he observed me a little longer, he started offering help in adjusting the heavy platform on a machine.  I had seen him use it and remembered physical therapy sessions on it to strengthen my legs.  I told him so and added it to my routine. The platform has various settings, but I just used it as I found it.  Soon, he began putting the platform in the correct slot when we both were there, and he spotted me “making my rounds.”  An unexpected kindness, an obviously flawed first impression, and another way I continued to discover I am noticed. 

               Entering the center requires going down 22 steps.  Since lower leg and hip weakness is the main symptom of my diagnosis (a rare neurological disorder), my work out begins on those stairs.  As I was heading back up to the machines, an older man on his way down said to me, “Determination.  One hundred percent determination.”  Speechless, I failed to give the strength and power of God credit for fueling this determination.  The man was familiar but an unknown observer—until then.

               Hopefully, few exercisers saw my two treadmill disasters, leaving me holding the bars for dear life after losing my footing, once because of a loose shoe string.  But on another day, a young lady saw me walking to another machine with an untied shoe and stopped me.  She said she would tie it, adding, “You’re an inspiration.”  She, too, notices me plodding through my routine and offers a kindness.

               Apparently, some have watched as I try to exercise despite my neurological challenges.  Simple words and deeds of kindness are so uplifting for all of us.  But even better is the miracle-working power of Almighty God, who still performs wondrous acts of healing as we look to Him with expectant faith and hope just as many did in Jesus’s day.  Seeing me walk up and down those 22 steps caneless, cushionless and normal—that would be true inspiration, pointing to God’s greatness, not anything of mine.