There are many things in this life that can be so humbling as to bring us to our knees in thanksgiving and praise. For instance: a sunrise or sunset so beautiful we are compelled to park our car and sit quietly, soaking up the moment God had made just for us. None but God can create such wonders as a perfect rose, an unblemished butterfly, a forest of maple trees whose leaves have turned a brilliant red and are caressed by the cool autumn breeze. Not a day goes by that you cannot find at least one of His special gifts, if you will but open your mind, your eyes and your heart to Him.
Since having triple by-pass surgery in November of 2000, walking at a mall has become routine, covering three to four miles a day, six days a week. For some people this might seem incredibly tedious and mindlessly boring, but the 70 minutes a day has provided not only the exercise needed, but also a time for prayer, meditation, window-shopping and people watching; plus all the creature necessities: climate control, restroom, coffee, pastries, etc.
On a recent morning, about half way through the walk, I noticed a middle aged lady walking in the opposite direction with three young men in tow. Each of the men appeared to be in their 20s, and obviously very mentally and physically challenged. As the four passed by, oblivious to the stares of other people in the mall, one of the men fixed his eyes on mine and I immediately felt a surge of compassion, which in turn triggered thoughts of parents who have commented about their “special” children returning their love in ways never imagined: pure, total, spontaneous. And this thought in turn called to mind an incident related to me sometime back.
The incident took place during the Special Olympics a few years ago, and for you who have not attended such an event, please know that winning a contest is every bit as important to a “special” individual as it is to every other athlete. The contestants in the foot race were all lined up ready to start. The starter pistol was raised; fired; and the boys and girls took off running for the finish line just as fast as their abilities would allow. The crowd began yelling, clapping and shouting their encouragement. A short distance from the starting line a boy stumbled and fell to the ground; flat on his face. He looked up and saw the others running toward the finish line, and watched as they got further away from him. Broken hearted he put his face down in the dirt and began to cry. One of the runners looked back over her shoulder and saw the boy on the ground. She slowed down; stopped; turned around and started walking back towards the sobbing boy. Another runner saw her; stopped; turned around and walked back towards the boy on the ground. One by one each of the other runners did the same until all of them had formed a circle around the fallen boy. Without a word being spoken all the runners reached down and picked up the boy. Some brushed the dirt off his knees, some wiped the tears from his face and some patted his shoulders to let him know they cared and that everything would be OK. Then, they all turned and, hand-in-hand, walked to the finish line - all crossing it at the same time. By now the crowd was on its feet: cheering, clapping, & yelling. They knew they had been privileged to witness the true meaning of “Special Olympics”.
This beautiful story demonstrates the kind of unbounded love God has for each of us,. I had stopped walking long enough to watch the three “special” young men and their caretaker angel disappear down the corridor, when I became aware of music playing throughout the mall. The music seemed familiar… and after finally recognizing it I could only look up and thank God for the morning, for the “special” people, for the music, and for that moment that has, and will continue to have, a very special place in my life. I then continued my walk, but with a much different spirit than when I began.
Oh, by the way, in case you may be wondering, the music that began playing at that precise moment was…’Chariots of Fire.’