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Every once in a while life throws you a signal, a little nugget of wisdom to remind you of your purpose and help you to a better outcome. Sometimes these nuggets are subtle and easily overlooked. Sometimes they’re obvious, literally blocking your path so you can’t miss them.

My family had one of the more obvious kind today. We were walking on the boardwalk, my wife and I each pushing a stroller and our two older children riding their bikes. Our five-year old daughter Ellie was in the stroller I was pushing, actually a cross between a stroller and a wheelchair. Ellie has special needs, and one of them is to be pushed around since she can’t really walk. She has other issues as well, such as being non-verbal; she is severely developmentally delayed.

I didn't even see Chris' Superman hat until I saw the picture later.

During our walk today, a man approached Ellie and me as we were walking and said, “Excuse me, sir, could you tell me what’s wrong with your daughter?” He caught me off guard; I didn’t recognize him, he seemed a bit off balance and his speech was slow and a bit slurred. Also, while Ellie doesn’t look “typical” people generally aren’t sure enough (or bold enough) to ask so directly. However I stopped and briefly explained her situation and, when I finished, he leaned forward and started speaking to her directly.

The man looked her in the eye and told her to never give up, to always be determined. He explained to her that he had had an accident and was told he would not live, let alone walk or talk again. He told her he was determined not to give up, but rather to fight his way back. I think he teared up a little as he instructed her to stay strong and to work to overcome her challenges.

As he stood up we thanked him for his message to Ellie and introduced ourselves, and asked him for his story. He said his name was Chris, and that four years earlier he had had a stroke. Apparently the hospital had given him an overdose of medication that put him in a coma and should have resulted in his death, or at best a permanent vegetative state. Instead, he fought his way back and four years later was on the boardwalk smiling and giving Ellie a pep talk.

We said goodbye and parted ways, strangers in a big world that had crossed paths for just a brief moment in time. The fact that Chris approached us and spoke directly to Ellie so deliberately tells me that the encounter was more than just a coincidence. I think it was one of those signals, a reminder to all of us to face our challenges head on and not give up. And seeing Chris speaking to Ellie, the two of them knowing more hardship than the rest of us observing, was humbling. I have little to complain about, and my challenges are minor. The least I can do is keep my chin up and do my absolute best.

Thank you, Chris, for cheering on my Ellie and for teaching me something today.