Foster

fos·ter
ˈfɔstər, ˈfɒstər [faw-ster, fos-ter]
–verb (used with object)
1.to promote the growth or development of; further; encourage: to foster new ideas.
2.to bring up, raise, or rear, as a foster child.
3.to care for or cherish.
4.British . to place (a child) in a foster home.
5.Obsolete . to feed or nourish.
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Two days after Thanksgiving, I ran into the grocery store while Devo and baby waited in the car. I needed 4 things and ended up coming out with a new perspective and a few held-in tears. While shopping, I saw a guy in a wheelchair similar to the one my dad used for 3 years. He looked about my dad's age when he died (48) and I looked straight at his hands to see their condition, as I am used to people with ALS having weak, atrophied muscles, then at the movement of his head, as ALS sufferers repeat a bobbing motion often times. I then saw him attempt to pick up a pineapple, which he could not grasp and kept dropping. I ran over and blurted out "Excuse me sir, do you have ALS and do you need help?" He said "Hi, no I don't have ALS, but yes I do need help." I then blurted "What do you have?" He said that when he was 17 while riding a motorcycle, a log fell on him and partly paralyzed him. When I was younger, I used to be afraid to look at handicapped people and I'd quickly turn away when I saw a wheelchair so they wouldn't feel I was staring, now apparently I just very loudly blurt out whatever pops in my head because I became so comfortable with peoples' physical disabilities during my dad's 5 year battle with Lou Gehrig's disease and all those I met through the illness. I told him my dad had ALS, and we discussed that (as I teared up almost ready to cry). I was sad because sometimes I wish something different had happened to my dad so at least he'd still be alive and able to see Harmony and be with my mom. This man knew quite a bit about ALS, most likely because he has many of the same physical issues as those with ALS. He's been in the wheelchair for 30 years (he is 48 as I guessed) and he may live for a very long time, but ALS takes your life in 3-5 years in almost all cases. Then I proceeded to help him shop for 10 minutes for the rest of his list. His name is Foster which I found interesting, as this means "to care for or encourage." I was glad to have been able to foster him for just a few minutes, and as I saw him use a lift system in his van like my dad used, and drive himself away, I thought of something he said to me... "This is like my second life." To see a man in his position, with such a joyful disposition, smiling, happy, friendly, taking care of himself, making the most of his days because he truly feels like it's a second chance, made me very thankful. I have no idea what Foster's life was like before the log paralyzed him, but perhaps it shifted his path in a better direction than he was going, who knows why things happen and what might have happened if one small event was changed in our past, yet all we can do is to make the most of the day we have now, because each moment, each breath, is a new chance at life. Three days later, I saw Foster at another grocery store on the other side of town and we chatted again. I was at this grocery store for the 2nd time that day to get my bike which I had locked up and forgotten the key for at home. Harmony and I rode the bike, went shopping (while she whined the entire time b/c I forgot her water), then couldn't go home on the bike so I had to get my neighbor to come pick us up, then drive back to get my bike later. It was not the best day ever, yet when I "happened" to run into Foster again, it was a good reminder to be thankful even for the difficult things in life.