A much-appreciated feature of our church is the many doors equipped with buttons for handicapped access – well beyond ADA requirements. (Don’t you just love when people do the right thing – not just the legal requirements?) On Sundays, part of the effort to make all feel welcomed is to have leaders in the church stand at the door to greet those coming in. A person typically stands by the access button and pushes it for everyone, offering an open door, but especially before an ‘otherwise abled’ person needs to push it.
A few weeks ago, the welcome person had her 3-year-old granddaughter standing with her. Mimi would remind the munchkin to push the button when helpful. I typically make a point to notice the welcoming person, catch their eye, smile, and thank them so they understand how much appreciated this small gesture is. I noticed the young girl and smiled, thanking her. Now, often when adults see my wheelchair, they quickly look away as if embarrassed, shutting down any need for further communication. This serious, little one looked directly at me after taking a hard look at my wheels. “Why do you do that?” she asked genuinely. I rolled up closer, looked her back directly in the eye, and explained in 3-year-old terms how I had been hit by another car just down the road from church. I went on to tell this attentive youngster that this happened when she was a very little girl. I used to walk just like she does, but now I can’t move below here (gesturing midway between my waist and shoulders.) I lifted my one leg to show that it was useless. She asked a couple more questions, I asked her name, and then we both went back to our own tasks.
After the service, I went to the gathering space where coffee is served. It just happens to be near the area where adults meet their youngsters after their church-school. I was delighted to notice this cute munchkin come back to see me. I gave her a big smile and said, “Hi, Harper! Glad to see you again.” This precious one reached out and gave me an unexpected hug. We chatted a bit about what she had done in church school, and we said good-bye. The following week, Harper came up to me where my husband and I sit – back of church where the cutout pews provide space for wheelchairs. She again gave me a welcomed hug, and we talked briefly about her week. Nearly each week she is at the door with Mimi or comes to find me in the back of church before the service starts. We briefly chat about her week, friends, her day, or how she looks.
During Advent, the children were gathered in front of the sanctuary as usual for the Word for Children. The leader was explaining that they would be lighting the pink candle on the Advent wreath. It stood for joy. Harper spontaneously raised both arms, turned a bit sideways, and struck what looked similar to a ballet pose. This was greeted by an immediate chuckle from the congregation. Harper’s pose underscored the meaning of joy in a much more meaningful way than any words could.
The last two weeks Harper has entered the back doorway that separates the sanctuary from the foyer, spotted me, and literally run to me to give me a big hug. What a wonderful way to begin the service and week for both Harper and myself. It didn’t take long for me to realize that Harper is my pint-sized angel. Her greetings are truly a gift of God.
Do not forget to show hospitality to strangers, for by so doing some people have shown hospitality to angels without knowing it. (Hebrew 13:2, NIV)
Watch for your little angels. Shalom, Collene