All God's Children
Several times recently in church I've mused on how those who are mentally or developmentally handicapped enrich our worship through their spontaneous expressions. They love to be part of what's happening at church, and their eagerness shows.
Lester was there recently, visiting in his older brother's home, and I heard him helping with the more familiar hymns. He has a good memory for melodies, and used to pick them out on a little keyboard in the wash house where he grew up. Whatever he heard in church in the morning was reproduced in the wash house in the afternoon. Lester's singing puts a smile on my face.
Scottie loves his Sunday School teacher, and he can be heard repeating the teacher's name happily long before the classes meet. He has autism, and does not engage in typical conversation, but he has a sweet childish voice, and it's good to hear him when he's happy.
On Thanksgiving morning, we had a singing program at church--a men's quartet who sang a great variety of songs, including "Roll Away." After that particularly rousing number, Duane started the clapping, and everyone joined in. Duane, who is a handicapped adult, hadn't gotten the memo about "proper" Beachy protocol. Those of us who got the memo ignored it, recognizing instinctively that his response was exactly right for the moment.
After church, Diane reached happily for my hand twice, once right after church, across the pew behind mine, and later, in the foyer, when I passed by where she was standing. No one was so unambiguously happy to see me at church as Diane. She is Duane's sister, and also handicapped.
She has no reason to know me, so I assume she was making similarly happy overtures to others she encountered.
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Lester grew up in the same community as my sister-in-law, Brenda. When she met him over the time he was here recently, he had to think for a bit before he could come up with her name--not surprising since it's probably been more than a decade since they last met. But he was soon plying her with questions about how the boys on her dad's school bus have been behaving.
He was remembering something that used to bring him great joy--days when Ray made it a point to take Lester along on his bus route. The misbehaving boys had obviously made an impression on him at the time, and all these years later, he hasn't forgotten.
Lester was there recently, visiting in his older brother's home, and I heard him helping with the more familiar hymns. He has a good memory for melodies, and used to pick them out on a little keyboard in the wash house where he grew up. Whatever he heard in church in the morning was reproduced in the wash house in the afternoon. Lester's singing puts a smile on my face.
Scottie loves his Sunday School teacher, and he can be heard repeating the teacher's name happily long before the classes meet. He has autism, and does not engage in typical conversation, but he has a sweet childish voice, and it's good to hear him when he's happy.
On Thanksgiving morning, we had a singing program at church--a men's quartet who sang a great variety of songs, including "Roll Away." After that particularly rousing number, Duane started the clapping, and everyone joined in. Duane, who is a handicapped adult, hadn't gotten the memo about "proper" Beachy protocol. Those of us who got the memo ignored it, recognizing instinctively that his response was exactly right for the moment.
After church, Diane reached happily for my hand twice, once right after church, across the pew behind mine, and later, in the foyer, when I passed by where she was standing. No one was so unambiguously happy to see me at church as Diane. She is Duane's sister, and also handicapped.
She has no reason to know me, so I assume she was making similarly happy overtures to others she encountered.
**************************
Lester grew up in the same community as my sister-in-law, Brenda. When she met him over the time he was here recently, he had to think for a bit before he could come up with her name--not surprising since it's probably been more than a decade since they last met. But he was soon plying her with questions about how the boys on her dad's school bus have been behaving.
He was remembering something that used to bring him great joy--days when Ray made it a point to take Lester along on his bus route. The misbehaving boys had obviously made an impression on him at the time, and all these years later, he hasn't forgotten.
posted by Mrs. I at
1:31 PM
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