My brother Stuart’s challenges are apparent to all: cerebral palsy crippled him for life. My own shortcomings and faults are not as visible, but are just as real. I once helped Stuart with his shirt. I joked that it looked like he had been bitten by a shark, thanks to all the surgical scars on his back. He humbly stated, "yes, I'm lucky to be alive." Each time I help Stuart, I gain a little more gratitude, humility, and grace. In this portrait of the two of us, I'm helping Stuart with his foot braces, and he is helping me spiritually. The title echoes the hymn about a poor wayfaring man of grief who, like Stuart, repeatedly receives temporal service, and gives back even greater spiritual gifts. I had myself a wound concealed But from that hour forgot the smart And peace bound up my broken heart