I’ve written before of the many times and ways God has show me how much He loves His children, and perhaps most especially, those with developmental disabilities. How much He loves them, and He COMMANDS US to love the least of his children, or we will not enter the gates of heaven. But as anyone who has ever associated with these special children knows, you don’t need to be commanded to love them; they love so much, you and everyone, that you can’t help but love them back. I had another reminder of that love this week.
I arrived at Church early, to say my morning prayers, but there were people standing outside; “The doors are locked.” So, I walked back to my car and began my prayers there. As the waiting crowd grew, I could hear them through the closed car windows, and glanced up occasionally. But then, as I continued to pray, I became aware of silence. It was about 15 minutes before mass time; the doors had been opened. I paused in my prayers and started toward the church when I saw a couple of people still outside. “The doors are locked,” they said. We waited 5 minutes, the crowd growing considerably, then I drove to the back of the church, searching for an emergency exit door from the Church proper. I found the steel door emergency exit and banged hard on it a few times. I waited, but no one came. I was about to leave, when the door opened, and there stood Michael, a developmentally disabled young man who is always at morning mass. He’s always smiling, and was then. “Michael, the front doors are still locked and people outside can’t get in. Can you get someone to open the doors, please?” The steel door quickly began to close, as I heard him say: “Oh, yes.” By the time I drove around the building to park again, the priest was at the front entrance, ensuring it was open --- and unlocked. Mass started a few minutes late that morning. The crowd was noticeably larger than usual also, perhaps Satan had wanted to keep them out?
It was during that mass that I thought: Michael had opened the door to the heart of Jesus’ house when I had knocked. But then a peace came over me, and I thought: No, it was Michael’s loving heart that opened the door to the heart of Jesus. When I had banged on the steel door, I am sure that it loudly echoed in the church, yet no one came to see who was pounding. Were I inside, I’m not sure I would have either, but Michael did. He perhaps was curious, or perhaps thought someone needed help, and he always looks to help.
The developmentally disabled are loved as children by Jesus, because they love Him --- and everyone --- with great trust. When Jesus commanded that we love the least of His children, I think He was talking about Michael. The Michaels of this world are the door to Jesus’ heart.
Some countries now boast they have no Down’s Syndrome or other developmentally disabled being born; they are all aborted. How can they be bragging about locking the door to Jesus’ heart?
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One of the people I deliver groceries to each Thursday is developmentally disabled. He lived with his mother in a trailer; I saw her once or twice, but he always opened the door and immediately began unloading the cart of groceries I had brought. He never said much, except perhaps a thanks sometimes. I recently found out that his mother had died over a year ago. He has continued to live in that trailer alone. When I visited last week, I thought to ask him, as he began the task of unloading the groceries, “Pardon me, but I don’t know your name. My name is Tom.” He paused, holding a box of groceries, then he put the box down and almost seemed to jump up. “My name is Dave!” he said very loudly --- and with a huge smile. “I’m Dave.” And he stood smiling, because someone had wanted to know his name.
This week when he opened the door, I said loudly: “Hi, Dave. Tom’s here with the groceries again.” And I again saw the big smile. He chatted a bit as he unloaded the food, telling me which foods he liked and didn’t. When the cart was empty, I smiled at him and said: “I hope you enjoy the food, Dave, and the beautiful weather we’re having too. I’ll be praying for you, Dave.” And the door closed. As I was folding the cart and putting it in my car, the door opened again, and Dave stood there with the big smile again: “I’ll see you next Thursday!” “You bet, Dave,” I said. You bet.
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