The band boys...

Every Sunday morning, the Elwood van carries the Elwoods and anyone who happens to want to go with us, to church. It's something that personally, I look forward to all week. Up by 8 O'clock, we hurry around the house finding suitable clothes, our better shoes and grab Bibles from the last place we had been reading them. I must admit, that sometimes it may be on the night stand, in my office or admittedly it may still be in the car. Where ever our Bibles are, they always accompany us to Church on Sunday morning. Like our Pastor says, "The sound of those pages turning is music to my ears."

As the car buzzes along, we know that we are getting close to our destination when we pass the "rodeo". Men with sombreros ride horses in a ring, in the middle of the bleachers while music from their native land of Mexico is blaring from the speakers. A hint of tacos and enchiladas is in the air. Smells good, but we have our minds on higher goals on Sunday at this time of day. As we travel down the old dirt road to Harmony Holiness Church we have made it a habit to start praying for our immediate work at hand. We are teaching Sunday School to two disabled young men and we can hardly wait to get there.

As we pull into the paved lot, we usually find that the guys are already there and waiting for us. Sunday School begins promptly at 10 AM, so they are usually waiting in the "Starlight" classroom eager to begin the lesson. We have a set routine and a guide to follow. Working with developmentally disabled adults is like working with children. You are challenged to address their physical, mental, and emotional needs. So, even though you have a set routine and a curriculum to follow, each Sunday is different. You can always plan on one element for sure. Each Sunday will be like none other. Something will always be different. Spontaneity and flexibility are a must.

As we teach about Jesus, we often have a period of time when we participate in "worshipping" which includes music. Little did we know that both Brett and John love worship time. They often request that we "Play the music." even before we've taken care of other business. I bring my ipod which has a few of the songs that our church worship band plays when we return upstairs later in the service. When we play songs like "Open the eyes of my heart", John likes to pretend that he is playing the drums. He will beat on the table or his lap. He really prefers to beat on a tambourine. Brett, on the other hand, likes to play an air guitar and sing. He has his favorite songs like "This little light of mine" and "Amazing Grace." He will "sing" his little heart out even though he doesn't have the ability to utter a word. Brett will open his mouth and try to sing the words while making a humming sound. The first time we heard him do this, we both choked up because of his sincerity. Both of the guys love Jesus so much; Jerry and I have seen thier love of Jesus. Even when there is other crafts to do, Brett in particular prefers to "sing" and praise God.

Every time the guys are finished worshipping, they mention that they would love to be in the church band. They will hear a song that is familiar, "Like upstairs", John Adam will say. Although we realize that at this time, this isn't possible. It's truly the desire of their hearts. So, we make sure that they get ample opportunity to be creative in our worship segments. While we often try to "keep it down" while we are in our little Starlight classroom. There are times that we have class outside and let the praise be loud. We shout and play make believe instruments to our hearts desire. We let our humble voices be heard and let them rise toward the blue sky. I'm sure that to the Lord, our praise is sweet music that echos through the heavens.

Our children's children

Never did I think that I would have to answer to my children. I'm going to share with you a true story. I have changed the names to protect the animosity of my friends, but this event truly happened. I'm sure that after I share this story with you, you may know of events just like it. Unfortunately, it may be even more common place that I am aware of.

There was once a woman who was very much in love with her husband. Together they built a life together and had several children. Together she and her husband raised these children offering them the best that they could afford. The children grew and had the loving parents who did all the wonderful things that parents do. They raised them to be God fearing, upright citizens and even made it a priority that their children have extended family. Visiting cousins on birthdays, Christmas and other holidays was a tradition throughout their childhood. Their mother was close to her own sister and taught the children how to respect and appreciate extended family.

As the children and their cousins got married, their aunts and uncles celebrated with them. They were "family". As time went by, one of the sister's husbands became ill and passed away. The other sister and her husband supported this sister in her grief. Later on, when the one sister was a widow, the sister and brother-in-law continued to include the widowed sister in their social plans. They went lots of places together. Not only did the two sisters take care of their elderly mother together; but also, the widowed aunt continued to go to birthdays, weddings, baptisms and various holiday functions that involved her nieces and nephews.

Not too many years ago, the sister passed away. The widowed sister was very involved in the grieving process of her nieces, nephews, and her widowed brother-in-law. Being a Christian woman, she did so with faith, hope and charity. Being in her late sixties, she knew what it was like to face the world with out your spouse. Then, even after both of their spouses had passed, they still were together often at family gatherings. They shortly began sharing dinner, movies, etc. Well, after "dating" her former brother-in-law for a year, the two older people decided to get married. After all, they had known each other practically all their lives. They were comfortable with each other, enjoyed each other's company and interests, loved serving the Lord and most importantly wanted to spend the rest of their lives together. They brought happiness to each other!

There was just one little glitch. The children of the man were not happy. They openly and vocally opposed the marriage. Their reasoning was that it was a disrespect to their mother that their father marry their mother's sister. No amount of reasoning was going to convince them that this wedding was right. They even announced that, if their father married their aunt, they would refuse to attend the ceremony. The last thing that I had heard was that this, in fact, is what transpired.

As I write this story, my heart weighs heavy with the the grief that these two people might have

because of the behavior of their children. How does anyone justify being a judge over what two adult people should or should not do with their lives? Who has the right to tell someone who to love? Love has a mind of its own. I find it heartwarming that these two friends decided to marry each other in the presence of the Lord. I wish them much happiness. I hope that in time, their children will realize that their parents have a right to have someone in their lives to love them, to encourage them, to make them happy and to keep them warm on a cold winter's night.

The KEYS to Heaven

They hang from his neck and jingle constantly. I've never really understood why he wears this conglomeration of things that dangle off a lanyard that says "I love Jesus." It just seems to be growing and growing. I remembering lifting it once to dust while he had it off and I was amazed at how heavy it was. "My goodness, Steve, how can you lug this thing around all day on your neck? It is heavy!" "Yes, it is.", he admitted. "It seems to just grow as each day passes." He shared with me a funny story about a young lady that works at Wal-mart. He had stated that she told him that she was looking for "One just like it.." and asked him to keep an eye out for one for her. We talked about how the biggest complement one can receive, is to have someone want something just like yours.

As I studied this huge hunk of jewelry/pretties, I realize that there were a mixture of medals, crucifixes, rings, key chains and other miscellaneous things. No rhyme or reason, just stuff; most of it had a religious theme. Lots of Holy Spirits, some things that Jerry and I had given Steve and obviously lots of sentimental items, like his mother's wedding ring. A hunk of stuff that just keeps growing. I'll often walk in on Steven looking at his "necklace" and going through each item with his fingers. I surmise that he is reminiscing. Deep in thought nonetheless.

Other people are drawn to this necklace, too. like children. We have mutual friends that have little ones and they often will sit quietly on Steve's lap and play with the assortment of items. They love to put their little fingers in the rings or feel the medals if they have raised pictures on them. At one time, I had given my friend my baby ring and they loved that one because it actually fit their tiny fingers. Even adults will walk up and jingle the lanyard. I've even heard one of them even ask my friend if they were "the keys to heaven".

Keys to heaven, now that is an interesting concept. A few weeks later, I found that that necklace or conglomoration of things have much more significance than I understood. We were driving down the street when I noticed a man on a bicycle that seemed familiar to me. "Don't you know that man?", I asked. "Yeah, that's Mike." I felt a little foolish because people always come up to me and ask me if I know so and so because she/he is disabled, also. Like we all know each other! I did a u-turn and waited for Mike to come by on his bike. It wasn't a long wait and the red-haired man came by. "Hi, Mike." Like typical men, they shared some small talk and bantered about the street life. They discussed old times and the tightness of the economy and just as Mike began to leave, he said, "Oh wait!" He opened a very worn backpack . "Here, my friend. I found this dumpster diving last week. It brought you to mind." Mike handed Steve a key chain shaped like a fish that had "JESUS" written on it. He also gave him a crucifix pin which Steve didn't waste anytime putting both immediately on his lanyard. "Thank you, my friend.", Steve said as we pulled off. "Wow" I said, "is that how that necklace began?" "Yes, gifts!" That's amazing! "Well, I don't have a jewelry box to keep them in. Besides they are gifts. You don't give gifts away, do you?"

I had to think about that one for awhile. Perhaps, being the keys to heaven wasn't that far out. Maybe, if we all gave out of our own possessions, gifts would mean a lot more. Likewise, if we all cherished what our friends did give us with a new appreciation, we would hang on more tightly to what truly matters.

Venturing out!

The wheels of the chair were sinking in the sandy soil. It had been raining every day lately, but this didn't stop us from venturing into the thicket to see for ourselves our friend's "home". Although, it had been several years since he had been there. I just had to see it with my own eyes. Writing about the plight of the homeless is something that I've been writing about for close to a year now. Where and what did people use to help survive the bitter cold, the harsh winds and the merciless seasonal elements when winter sets in? Only an inquisitive writer would need to see for herself and NOTHING was going to stop me, even if I had to get there the hard way.

The day we choose to go was nothing like the winter that our friend had endured. It was humid, the air thick as the brush and the bugs were intense. We parked the car and unloaded the manual chair so that we could better maneuver whatever we might have to go over, around, or through. After going around a cement barricade, we followed a service road next to a railroad track. Why on earth did I wait this long to let my adventurous nature come through? Even though my friend led the way, I felt as if I was going to see something that I probably would not be able to see, left to my own capabilities.

It was still and definitely serene. "Quiet neighbors," I said. Due to the fact that a cemetery was nearby, I thought it would have been very quiet, but then again I was naive to the fact that cemeteries are used by different types of people for different reasons. I later discovered that "Devil Worshipers" frequent them. I know nothing about them, so that won't be discussed here.
As we passed under a viaduct, there was graffiti covering the structure that held up the road above us. Again, I knew that the graffiti meant something to someone. It was all Greek to me! Wow, I felt as if I were in the movies. We took the push chair so that we could get places where the motorized chair could not go. "It's down here", said Steven as he led the way. We seemed to walk forever and the chair was hard to push in the sandy soil. "Wait, I think we must have missed the small path", Steve said. "Either that or it has grown over since the last time I've been here." "When was that?" I asked. "Oh, maybe four years now.", Steve replied. "Wait here, I'll backtrack. I'll let you know when I find it. It's here somewhere." Steve hadn't gone far off the service road when we heard him holler. "I found it. It's over here."

Once we went in off the path about 50 feet or so, we found a metal structure about 15 feet by 12 feet which we later found out had been a routing office. It had no inside walls, but was a gutted, frame of a building that had obviously been ravaged by a fire. It had a door on each side of it and window openings. I could imagine that in the winter, it would be a little better than nothing. I could almost feel the wind blow through there with vigor as it howled mercilessly on my friend. "Welcome to my place.", he chided as he held the door open for us. Steve had carried my walker so that I could walk around once we got there. "Steven, you stayed here in the dead of winter?, I asked. "Yep, for about three months. Then the police made me move." I looked around and imagined what it may have been like. The tile flooring was cold and worn, the walls had big gaps in them where the walls met the floor. Their was no electricity nor running water. "I use to light a votive candle at night to keep warm and I swept the floor where I use to lay with the blankets I had." I imagined what it would be like to have no where to call home or even worse, to have no one to miss you if you were to freeze to death.

I could see that this was bringing memories back for my friend. He made the statement that he felt as if he were home. I suggested with that that we should go home. As we made our way back, we decided to take a short cut. It was a little precarious, but as always Steve's hand was there for support. As we made our way, a giant (little), green frog crossed our path. "Oh, yuck, look at that giant green thing! Get him, Steve! Don't let him jump on my leg!" It's only a little green frog, silly! Let's go home nature girl!