Gift of love!

Is the title of today's inspirational message.

The passengers on the bus watched
sympathetically as the attractive young woman
with the white cane made her way carefully up
the steps. She paid the driver and, using her
hands to feel the location of the seats, walked
down the aisle and found the seat he’d told her
was empty. Then she settled in, placed her
briefcase on her lap and rested her cane against
her leg.
It had been a year since Susan, 34, became
blind. Due to a medical misdiagnosis she had
been rendered sightless, and she was suddenly
thrown into a world of darkness, anger,
frustration and self-pity. And all she had to
cling to was her husband, Mark.
Mark was an Air Force officer and he loved
Susan with all his heart. When she first lost her
sight, he watched her sink into despair and was
determined to help his wife gain the strength
and confidence she needed to become
independent again.
Finally, Susan felt ready to return to her job, but
how would she get there? She used to take the
bus, but was now too frightened to get around
the city by herself. Mark volunteered to drive
her to work each day, even though they worked
at opposite ends of the city. At first, this
comforted Susan, and fulfilled Mark’s need to
protect his sightless wife who was so insecure
about performing the slightest task. Soon,
however, Mark realized the arrangement wasn’t
working. Susan is going to have to start taking
the bus again, he admitted to himself. But she
was still so fragile, so angry-how would she
react?
Just as he predicted, Susan was horrified at the
idea of taking the bus again. “I’m blind!,” she
responded bitterly. “How am I supposed to
know where I am going? I feel like you’re
abandoning me.”
Mark’s heart broke to hear these words, but he
knew what had to be done. He promised Susan
that each morning and evening he would ride
the bus with her, for as long as it took, until she
got the hang of it. And that is exactly what
happened. For two solid weeks, Mark, military
uniform and all, accompanied Susan to and from
work each day. He taught her how to rely on
her other senses, specifically her hearing, to
determine where she was and how to adapt her
new environment. He helped her befriend the
bus drivers who could watch out for her, and
save her a seat.
Finally, Susan decided that she was ready to try
the trip on her own. Monday morning arrived,
and before she left, she threw her arms around
Mark, her temporary bus-riding companion, her
husband, and her best friend. Her eyes filled
with tears of gratitude for his loyalty, his
patience, and his love. She said good-bye, and
for the first time, they went their separate ways.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday… Each
day on her own went perfectly, and Susan had
never felt better. She was doing it! She was
going to work all by herself.
On Friday morning, Susan took the bus to work
as usual. As she was paying the fare to exit the
bus, the driver said, “Boy, I sure do envy you.”
Susan wasn’t sure if the driver was speaking to
her or not. After all, who on earth would ever
envy a blind woman who had struggled just to
find the courage to live for the past year?
Curious, she asked the driver, “Why do you say
that you envy me?” The driver responded, “It
must feel good to be taken care of and
protected like you are.”
Susan had no idea what the driver was talking
about, and again asked, “What do you mean?”
The driver answered, “You know, every morning
for the past week, a fine-looking gentleman in a
military uniform has been standing across the
corner watching you as you get off the bus. He
makes sure you cross the street safely and he
watches until you enter your office building.
Then he blows you a kiss, gives you a little
salute and walks away. You are one lucky lady.”
Tears of happiness poured down Susan’s
cheeks. For although she couldn’t physically
see him, she had always felt Mark’s presence.
She was lucky, so lucky, for he had given her a
gift more powerful than sight, a gift she didn’t
need to see to believe-the gift of love that can
bring light where there is darkness.