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Samples
Sister Mary Grace Thul
www.sistermarygrace.artspan.com
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From
His Name is Joel: Searching for God in a Son’s Disability:
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Simple Gestures
“At that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a child, whom he put among them, and said, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever becomes humble like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.”
Matt. 18:1-4
One of my daily prayer practices is to visualize Jesus sitting on the edge of Joel’s bed, laying holy hands on my son’s head. Together they sing songs, read books, tell jokes. Always, healing occurs.
Centering down in prayer one day, I saw a different picture. Jesus, sitting on the floor, in the middle of Joel’s multihandicapped classroom! All the children stood nearby, transfixed. Joel sat next to Jesus, reaching up and touching his hair, caressing his cheek. Taylor hung on one arm, jumping up and down. Teddy stood behind, arms wound tightly around Jesus’ neck. Justin, who is not mobile, was cradled on Jesus’ lap; and Thomas, who seldom looks anyone in the eye, stared intently into Jesus’ face. The room reverberated with Trevor’s excited shrieks and Daniel’s monotone song.
As this amazing scene unfolded, Joel took Jesus’ hand into his own. Such a large hand in the small hand of my son. Joel examined that hand, the hand that fashioned the heavens and the earth, as if it were as common as his father’s. Finding a small scratch, he leaned down and kissed it.
“Hurt,” Joel said. Tenderly he kissed it again.
“Thank you,” Jesus replied seriously. “Feels better already!”
“Hurt,” Joel insisted. “Band-Aid.”
Jesus looked up at the teacher and nodded. She went to the closet, got the Band-Aids, and handed the box to Jesus. He gave one to Joel.
Fingers fumbling, Joel tried to pull off the wrapper. Lacking the fine motor control needed for the task, he whined in frustration. Jesus helped, patiently guiding Joel’s fingers to place the Band-Aid on the scratch.
Such a simple gesture. So childlike, this concern with someone’s hurt. It pierced my heart, and with the piercing came new understanding.
Despite his disabilities, maybe even because of them, Joel is a clear channel of God’s love. A conduit unblocked by worldly fears, preoccupations, idols, and cares.
I wondered. What would my reaction be, if confronted with the living Christ? Would I stammer and stutter in self-consciousness? Search for words, and find none worthy of his hearing? Slink to the back of the crowd, afraid of embarrassing myself? Probably.
Through this vision, God opened a window in my clouded and imperfect vision of the world. My son, whom I had viewed as broken, greeted the living Christ with a kiss. A kiss to the hand that was nailed to the cross two thousand years ago. A child, a child with mental retardation, ministering to the Lord.
What is brokenness?
What is wholeness?
Surely, in the eyes of his Lord, my son is perfectly whole.
Lord, help me relinquish my fear, my impatience, my yearning for wholeness as the world knows wholeness. Let me see the presence of the kingdom in the simple gestures of everyday life with Joel.
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From
Autism and Alleluias
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For Me!
By
Kathleen Deyer Bolduc
It was communion Sunday. Joel, then eleven, sat between his father and me. As usual, we sat in the front pew so that Joel wouldn't be able to kick the pews in front of us or reach forward and grab someone's hair. By trial and error we had found that with Dad to his right, Mom to his left, and empty space to the front, Joel could usually sit through half of the worship service.
We began bringing Joel to worship with us when he was five. Because of behavioral issues stemming from his disability, we had temporarily given up on Sunday school. Sunday school was just too difficult - too much like "real" school, a place where “keeping it together” is a real struggle. Because Joel loves music, and is enthralled by the choir, the beginning of the service is something he looks forward to. It took other members of the congregation a while to get used to Joel's spontaneity. Often he stands up, pretend baton in hand, and imitates the choir director. During hymns he loves to sing along, usually (thank God) on tune, with a few words right, and always with a loud “Amen!” at the end, generally a few beats behind the rest of the congregation.
During the boring parts of the service (any part without music is boring as far as Joel is concerned), he twists and turns in the pew, stares at the people behind us, waves at the pastor, swings his feet, claps his hands or stomps his feet (he usually saves these last two for times of silent prayer), and at least once during every service says in a loud voice, "I have to go to the bathroom!" As you can imagine, worshiping with Joel is an interesting experience. It's not unlike sitting on the edge of your seat during an action movie when you're not quite sure what's going to happen next, you only know something is going to happen. It's difficult to develop a prayerful attitude in those circumstances.
On the first Sunday of the month, communion is served. We pass the bread along the pews, administering it to one another, saying, "This is the body of Jesus, broken for you." Likewise, we pass the wine to one another with the words, "This is Jesus' blood, shed that you might live." My husband and I allow Joel to take a piece of bread, reciting the familiar words to which he never seems to pay attention. He chews the bread, picking at the sticky stuff left in his teeth with his fingers, but far prefers the wine, which in our church is really grape juice. Again, we recite the words to him. "Joel, this is Jesus' blood, shed for you." He slurps down the juice and sticks his tongue into the cup, determined to get every last drop. His father and I close our eyes briefly to pray our own private prayers of thanksgiving for this unbelievable gift of grace. Joel cranes his neck to watch as everyone else is served, and wiggles through the remaining quiet time
This particular Sunday, the pastor raised the plate high in the air and proclaimed "This is the body of Christ, broken for you." Then he raised the cup, saying, "And this is the blood of Christ, poured out that you might live." Joel pulled on my sleeve. I looked down to see him grinning, his face lit up as if from within. He stood up tall, and tapped himself on his chest. "For me! For me!" he cried joyfully. He turned around to the people behind us. "For me!", he repeated. "For me!"
Ordinary time stopped. All that existed in that moment was the radiant look of understanding on Joel's face. Joel knew that God loved him. On a spiritual level he knew that God had sent Jesus for him. My body remained in the front pew of College Hill Presbyterian Church, but my spirit stood in the sacred presence of God. All the accumulated Sunday hours of embarrassment, impatience, frustration, and yearning for wholeness as the world knows wholeness sloughed away as I watched the love of God glimmer like gold in the face of my son.
In 1 Cor. 13, Paul writes, "For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall understand fully, even as I have been fully understood." For a moment the mirror of existence, like a mirror wiped clear of steam by a towel, brightened and cleared and I understood clearly. Joel, although cognitively impaired, is spiritually whole.
The sacred surrounds us as does the very air we breathe - an entire realm as real as this world we live in, but invisible to the naked eye. A realm beyond our concept of space and time. A realm where schedules and priorities and developmental timetables do not exist. A realm where it is enough simply "to be."
Taken from Autism and Alleluias by Kathleen Deyer Bolduc.
Copyright ©2010 by Judson Press.
Used by permission of Judson Press, 800-4-JUDSON, www.judsonpress.com.
Bridge Resources, Louisville, Kentucky, 2001
This article has also appeared in the Cincinnati Enquirer and Family Ministry: Empowering Through Faith
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| The photograph of Joel and Kathy is courtesy of The Cincinnati Enquirer. |
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