Airports are peculiar places. People are always on the go - some fast, some slow. Some people are happy and others are just in the groove - they've done this before. Their face says "been there, done that, got the t-shirt." The miracle of flying is beyond them now. To them, it is just as basic and natural as breathing. In and out of one airplane, one airport, one city and so on.

I joke sometimes that my car knows how to get to the airport itself. I do this because I am a frequent traveler. In and out of one airplane, one airport, one city and so on making my way to my destination. This day, I felt it would be no different. I loaded my car, headed to the airport, made my way to the parking garage and level that I felt would have parks based on the time of day and day of the week, unloaded my suitcase and made my way to the terminal. I, just like usual, went through security, bought a pack of my favorite snacks and just like usual, made small talk at the register and then went to my gate. Just like usual, I flew to my connecting destination, deplaned and made my way to the next gate. Then something unusual happened.

This something broke me out of my routine and made me pay attention.

This something caused me to really examine everything that I'd done that very day.

This event caused me to be grateful and to really wonder why I don't take delight in the usual.

When I arrived at my gate, I saw a man in a wheelchair. That's not unusual. People need assistance with the ramps and frequently, well, in particularly, the elderly will be wheeled around the airports in wheelchairs.

But this time it was different.

This aged gentleman, a veteran, with snow white hair that somehow seemed to age before the rest of him sat tall in his wheelchair. This was no regular wheelchair. It was advanced with lots of features on it and this gentleman knew it well. When called to the ticket counter, he moved swiftly to answer questions from the agent and to give pertinent information that would make his flight a little easier. You see, this gentleman was a triple amputee.

As he moved around, some people went about their day never even noticing him. He was invisible to them but he was not invisible to me. He was real and relevant. I looked at him, not with pity, but with gratitude. Here was a gentleman that fought for our country - were his injuries a result of his service? I don't know. I did not ask him. His presence made me question myself and how often I take everything for granted.

For my ability to walk - I thank you God.

For my health and my strength - I thank you God.

For my arms and my legs, I thank you God.

For my ability to move on my own - I thank you God.

You see, I could go on and on and on recalling the basics that I take for granted each day. That's what seeing this gentleman taught me. His presence alone ministered to me. And, I will move forward with an increasingly grateful heart.