In the fall of 1987 in Mrs. Malte’s second grade class at Monte Gardens Elementary School an African-American boy named Lateef McCleod was pushed in his wheelchair through the door and parked next to my desk. The straps across his chest, waist, and legs could not contain his personality, impact or reach. I would never be the same. His arms thrashed about without permission from his brain, leaking out the emotion held in him, his family and his courageous community that was blazing new trails far beyond the idea of ‘mainstreaming.’ Lateef was ‘fully included’ before that was a phrase or even a right. Somehow, I am the lucky one whose desk was at the back that day. Lateef became my friend and his friendship gave me new eyes to see the world and people. We were 7, so our friendship consisted of giggles and shared shenanigans on the playground, the annual school square dance where we were partners, getting him out of his chair on the slide or swings with the teachers and therapists and the absolute joy of a simple communication exchange…a question and an answer!!
At the age of 7, I could not put my finger on it, but I knew something was different about Lateef and many of the other students who he lead me into friendship with…. I remember the emotion and sense of security and safety I tried to describe to my mom one day as a small child. While I didn’t have the vocabulary for it, I know now that Lateef and the other students in Terri Schwarz’ special education class set me free to be me; to be fully welcomed and accepted. This is probably the first place I experienced that I could bewithout doingand it was more than enough. As the school bell would sound for recess or lunch hour, I would runto be with my friends. I was invited into daily life in Terri’s classroom and beyond, taught alternative communication, mentored by para-professionals, teachers, a multi-disciplinary team of therapists. It was next to Lateef that I discovered ability, hope, courage, and depth and it lead me to my peers, tucked away in a classroom at the back of the school or at the back tables in the corner of the cafeteria.
Over three decades have passed and I still am running towards my friends with disabilities, sometimes still down public school hallways, sometimes just figuratively, but I am pulling everyone I know and can find who will come along with me. When we enter into friendship and life with people who are different than us, we often discover not just who they are, but who we are more deeply. When I have to work harder to understand someone’s speech (or lack of), I value my voice and consider who/what I use it for. I find incredible joy in a friend’s victory and perseverance of making herself understood. When my friend cannot be understood and we both sit in the disappointment and frustration of the gap between his communication and my understanding, I enter in with him, not just to his lack of ability, but mine. When he loses out, so do I. When he wins, its my best win!
When I sit with a friend whose intellectual abilities make reading comprehension or even learning a major challenge for them, their parents and a whole team of professionals but I see them understand and comprehend the good news of Jesus’ love for them, I get a glimpse of the incomprehensible love of our Father who reveals Himself to all of creation and I know that same good news in a new and fresh way in my life! When I watch my friends with varies disabilities begin to grow in God’s love, I see it change their lives. Sometimes the change brings about a new attitude and new actions, serving overseas, at camp, in the community and at home… sometimes the change is slow, gentle and deep and can mean less anxiety, seizures or behavioral interruptions. For some of my friends, the power of the gospel moves them to action, for others, action is not an option that their neurology of physiology allow, but their presence, still, quiet and unassuming is just as powerful. Sometimes, I walk with one of my friends through the heartache, pain, loss, isolation, and even death that their disability can bring. I enter into sacred spaces of knowing their weaknesses and being trusted with them; giving me courage to enter into my own weaknesses and finding comfort in knowing I am not the only one who experiences these things.
Friendship with people with disabilities has been the single most powerful force in my discipleship and becoming like Jesus. The most profound suffering I have experienced has been alongside, with, or for one of my friends with a disability and has caused me to value these friends more, grow in gratitude, courage, and trust in God.
I am so grateful for Lateef, for Monte Gardens Elementary School, for Terri Schwarz who opened the world of friendship, dignity and a ‘fully included’ life up to me. If you want to experience the depths of friendship, courage, dignity, hope, and God’s love, follow me when that bell rings, I’ll be running right towards my friends with disabilities and we will all be changed together!
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| Christen, Lafeet and Jenny on the playground at Monte Gardens in 1987. |
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