A Narrative.

Well, I was supposed to write a narrative of a life experience (that had a moral in it) for school. Originally, I was going to send last week’s Toonie story. But then I decided I’ve had more experiences that I need to write down. So I would write it as a narrative, and also use it as a blogpost. (I’m lazy resourceful like that.)

You know what happened then? My mind drew a complete blank. As in

”                                                                                                                       “

 You see the gravity of the situation?

Moral ending. Hum. Does the time I fainted in a store after having left Toronto in the middle of a warm winter of -13 C˚, to arrive in Brazil where it was around 35 C˚, didn’t eat breakfast, instead went into the city for a full day of shopping, count as a moral lesson to eat breakfast?

Or what about the time when I made a Twitter at twelve years of age, abandoned it [Thank Providence], and found it again four years later only to panic and delete every single tweet, and the account itself, count as a moral story about how twelve year olds should never-under any circumstance have Twitter accounts?

Maybe I should write about how while trying to rack my brain for something to narrate, I realized I need to allow myself to be more teachable, because honestly, I can’t remember any more experiences that have taught me anything. *sigh*

-Fast forward to about an hour later:

“My hear was racing, my palms were sweaty, and I could feel the perspiration on my neck. My knuckles were turning white as I grasped the handles tightly. Surrounding me were various people in somewhat the same situation. I was at the gym. I was exercising. I was feeling good about having gotten off the couch, feeling superior to all the lazy ghosts of my past. I was glad I was finally taking care of my body.

I had led a rather sedentary life by choice. I chose to spend my time with books, computers, writing, cooking, any indoor activity. I was blessed with a somewhat fast metabolism that resulted in me being underweight/average weight no matter how much I eat. Needless to say, I felt no need, nor did I want to exercise.

Eventually, however, I realized that exercise isn’t for only those who want to lose weight. It is necessary in order to maintain general health! It is important for my heart, my muscles, my body, that I be active. So I determined I would go to the gym at least twice a week, and swim at least twice as well. I was determined to be more active.

So there I was. In the bright lighted gym on a winter evening. I was ending my gym time with a twenty-five minute round on the spinning bike. As I sat there, “spinning” away, feeling quite ridiculous because I was pedaling and going nowhere, I tried to comfort myself reminding my conscience that it was winter and it was already dark; I would convert to outdoor cycling in the summer.

As the resistance increased so did my heartbeat, breaths became hard to take, and my mouth became parched. I reminded myself such torture was good for my body, and I would someday reap the benefits.

A movement to my right caught my eye. One of the machines closest to the wall was being used. I had never seen that exercise equipment being used before. I had once or twice wondered what it was for. It had no seat, only handles. It was lower to the ground and honestly quite befuddling.

Now its handles were being turned by a man who seemed to be in his early thirties. I understood then why the equipment had no seat. Why it was lower to the ground. Why to me it was quite befuddling. The man was in a wheelchair.

I almost flew over the handles of the spinner as my legs involuntarily quit the spinning motion. I was stunned. This stranger, whose name I don’t know, much less his story had in those few seconds, taught me something invaluable.

Seeing him there, at the gym, in his wheelchair, on a cold winter evening, working his upper body, I realized something. I realized that, no matter what we have, no matter what God’s granted us to take care of, we must do our best to be good stewards of it. If He has given us money, let’s spend it wisely, invest it wisely. If He has given us talents, let’s use them to glorify Him. If He has given us health, let’s take care of it to the best of our abilities.

That man could, like so many others in his situation, decide to spend his days complaining, groaning, and bemoaning his disability. Instead he decided he would work with what he does have. If he can do that, how much more should I? How much more should I work with what I have. How much less should I complain, groan or bemoan!

No, that individual may not be well known. He may not be on the cover of even the local newspaper, nor were there crowds cheering him on. Even I wasn’t brave enough to go up to him and tell him how much simply his presence at the gym was inspiring to me. Yet quietly, there he was working with what he has. I feel each and everyone of us, should do the same. Don’t you?”

13 thoughts on “A Narrative.

  1. Garry Ladouceur February 7, 2012 / 1:01 am

    I wonder if this story has a moral. I just wrote it here as I sitand am curious.

    I love to wander the woods, alone, by myself with the wind my sole companion. I have never gotten lost in the woods, nor hungry or wet. I like the woods and shelter was always around and with a small fire, the nights were so calm and the stars were so bright.

    One day, while in the woods, I came upon a man who was sitting on a log and playing a guitar. I passed by, I like to be alone, but then I noticed the he was crying. I paused then and listened to him play his guitar and he played it beautifully. I was transfixed but still he cried. Then he began to sing and after a bit, I started to cry too. His voice was so wonderful, pure and perfect. In between sobs, he sang song after song and I sat there with him for many hours as he played. I shared my bacon sandwich with him and when it was getting dark I said that I had to go home since I had cows to milk. So he said Goodbye.

    Just before I left, I asked. “What are you doing here all alone singing and playing your guitar.” Well, he said. I am dead you know. I did not believe him and I said so. Not dead but I am suppose to be dead and I cant go home anymore because I dont want to disappoint my fans. You idiot I said. Goodbye Elvis said to me. I went home and milked my cows.


  2. Larissa Tenorio February 4, 2012 / 1:00 am

    Hey Tania. Hum, I'm sure my gym does offer spinning classes, but I just incorporate it into my workout. I don't take it as a class. Plus the bike has a TV, option to plug in a music device, and spinning videos. (:
    So for me it's good enough. And yes, I'll get out of exercise being a torture soon enough. 🙂


  3. Ann February 2, 2012 / 12:33 am

    I had a simpler thought last night – I feel so lucky sometimes : )


  4. mauishopgirl February 1, 2012 / 9:02 pm

    Well said Larissa…btw exercise can actually feel less like torture once you get used to it and also when you find something you enjoy doing. I've been in a non exercise mode lately so feel as you do but I still have the distant memories of the days when I used to look forward to it.

    Does your gym offer spinning classes? I'd die of boredom riding the bike by myself but spinning class is pretty fun if the instructor is good and has jammin music.


  5. Larissa Tenorio February 1, 2012 / 8:53 pm

    Wow! That's amazing! I'm sure he was a great blessing to you. And if wheelchairs can't hold them back, neither should laziness. *sigh*


  6. Judy February 1, 2012 / 4:06 pm

    How about this one – – you are true to the things you believe! That's a great story with a moral to it!


  7. cdnkaro February 1, 2012 / 2:44 pm

    I definitely feel the same way! What a lovely, inspiring post. “I need to allow myself to be more teachable” struck close to home:)


  8. Angelia Sims Hardy February 1, 2012 / 1:15 pm

    This is great! I love your observation and the life lesson it allowed you to understand. Our bodies are a value and should be treasured (I'm working on that too!).
    My step-dad who raised me had Polio as a boy. He did not have use of his leg and was on crutches or in a wheelchair all of his life. He taught me MANY lessons about life and how nothing can hold someone back. Not even a wheelchair. 🙂


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