A Little Girl’s Love, Devotion, and Struggle

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Here ladies and gentlemen is my first column for the Las Vegas Press Club. Bear with me a bit as I get the hang of it, but never the less, here is something you’re sure to enjoy. So take a deep breath and prepare your heart…

Just last week after one of my workouts I was on my way back to my car to depart but first needed to catch my breath from a long workout and begin to collect myself. As I was getting into my car to escape the heat, out of my peripheral vision I saw this little girl who was maybe around six years old, adorable and as precious as could be. She was struggling tooth and nail to help her father, that could barely walk, out of the car. He was in awful shape. On the outside he looked like a normal, average, 40-something year old man. But, on the inside, you got the feeling that something had slowly over the years eaten away at him.

Mustering up every inch of strength she pulled and pulled until finally her dad was up standing and out of the car. He was propped against it in what looked to be an all too uncomfortable stance. She kept trying to get him to use her body to lean against as a crutch, but he knew she was far too small for that. With his body language he very gracefully suggested just so. She understood.

She grabbed his hand and together they very, very slowly made it to the back of the car. It was grueling to watch something so simple become the biggest task on Earth. After a few minutes of struggle they finally arrived at their destination only a few feet away from where they once started. She propped him up against the car once more. Again she struggled with all her might, opened the trunk, and dragged out a wheel chair that was twice as big as her. The look of determination on this little girls face cannot be described properly with words. Whatever her goal was, she was set out to do it and it was going to happen.

Very slowly…very carefully… very diligently she helped her dad into the wheelchair. All of this so she could walk with and push her daddy around the park and enjoy the sun for an all too brief amount of time. My heart melted in every direction.

Some have commented on me not helping her, or asked why I did not. On a gut level instinct it was my first urge. I wanted to. I jerked in reaction to get out of my car to help.

However, on a much higher level instinct, I got the feeling that I should not intervene. That NOT helping would be the wisest decision to make. This was all up to the girl to do, to allow her to grow, and the relationship between the father and daughter to become even stronger.


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James Crane