Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Write an INSPIRATIONAL article (11/27/14)
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TITLE: Ordinary Heroes | Previous Challenge Entry
By Marlene Bonney
12/03/14 -
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“Benjamin, where are your gloves? Gregory, pull your hat down over your ears. JoyLynn, honey, stay by your brothers while I get Buddy.”
‘Where’s the father?” I wonder, saddened by several scenarios running through my mind. ‘What it must take to get four children ready for church by yourself,’ memories of my own challenges as a young widowed mother of three so many years ago hazily dancing in the recesses of my mind.
The mama wheels the, now occupied, stroller along; her daughter hanging onto its left-side handle while the youngest of the two brothers grips the other side, clasping the had of the oldest boy on his right. It is now evident to me that the eldest, Benjamin, is either autistic or has some other developmental problem. Having worked with mentally challenged children myself, the signs are as familiar to me as the back of my hand.
My interest piques as I follow this family into the church entryway, past the greeters and on into the kids’ sign-in counter where computer-generated name labels are applied to their clothing. The two middle children are bustled off to their classroom, the youngest one obviously apprehensive as she clings to her mother. Reassurances are delivered and the girl takes her older brother’s hand and the twosome walk into the bowels of an elaborate child-appealing playground scene. The baby is awake by this time, wide-eyed and so cute, I find it hard not to reach out and touch his downy head. Instead, I smile into his face and am delighted when he gives me a huge, toothless grin. Meanwhile his mama is trying to placate her excitable oldest child who is covering both ears with his hands, the loud music from inside the meeting-room disturbing to his hyper-sensitivities.
‘Too much stimulation,’ I diagnose on the spot.
“Benjamin, it’s okay,” soothing her son as she reminds him of the promised video games Bible story as they approach his classroom.
Away from the blaring music, he is calmer, and anxious to join his classmates. Mama and baby now go back into the café visiting area to watch the monitored sermon as she takes care of the baby.
“How old is he?” I ask pleasantly.
“Five months.”
“He’s a darling.”
We are chatting now, through the announcements and opening music, as I hope to become her friend. I find out that her husband divorced her after fifteen years of wedded “un-bliss”, that the youngest is the results of a, now forgiven, indiscretion as she wallowed through the repercussions of divorce, and that her life is a complicated maze of twists and turns that would take a Houdini to pass through.
“God is my strength,” she asserts after I admire her fortitude, “and I know it is imperative that my children are in a churched atmosphere every week.”
We exchange phone numbers and I determine to help this woman in any way I can.
‘Such an over-comer,’ I think, ‘to do the right thing in the face of her adversities and challenges.’ I know from experience that dealing with an autistic child (who just turned 13, she said) along with other siblings, is difficult on a limited-contact basis, let alone 24/7. The interactions between the younger ones (aged 10, 6 and baby) and the eldest child must be a consistent, if not constant battle, the younger ones not entirely able to process his disability in practical everyday activities. My heart goes out to her.
I begin, then, to observe other fragmented families at church with more compassion and have developed a ministry to reach out to them. I find that these everyday people, although not famous heroes and heroines with larger-than-life televised dramas, have individual stories of value in their very ordinariness. I am often awed by their determination to, with God’s help, force their way through difficult or seemingly impossible situations, to train their children up spiritually. Their perseverance is as uplifting to me as the sun rising every morning.
My grandmother says, whenever I complain about my “burdens”, that there is always somebody worse off, and she is right.
My aspiration is that I can encourage others by the fortitude with which I face each trial that comes my way, for I may be the only Bible some people ever see.
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