HANDICAPPED

     Many years ago I worked for a program that taught simple vocations to handicapped people -- people now known as having special needs. Most of the workers in the program had mental and physical handicaps. I felt so sorry for those people when I first started the job. "How unhappy they must be," I thought. However, I was to learn a lot about life from them. I left there with a completely different perspective.
     The handicapped people I saw were no less happy than other people. They just had a different standard of happiness. They found it in the simple things of life--a touch, a smile, good company, good food, simple fun. In fact, they may be happier than the rest of us so-called "normal" people. The dispositions of those in the work program were what one would expect in any other setting, allowing for differences in personalities. They laughed and loved as much as anyone--probably more so. They were friendly, affectionate, and readily accepted people.
     There were no prejudicial barriers--not black or white, rich or poor, cute or ugly, young or old. I never new what combination of people I would see holding hands next. Yet prejudice is so much a part of other people's lives that we all eventually get caught up in its web. And oh, what a terrible, tangled web it weaves. But there at the vocational workshop I saw a little piece of heaven where prejudice is an unknown word.
     Can it be that we so-called "normal" people are the ones most handicapped? Not only do we have social handicaps, but unlike those called handicapped, we are blind to the free things of life that could bring us true happiness--a touch, a smile, good company, simple fun with family and friends. Instead we pursue money and "things" and overlook those who really care about our happiness. The handicapped are not overly concerned about money and material possessions. They just want acceptance.
     I also learned a spiritual lesson from the "handicapped" workers in the program. Before then I never had an answer to the question, "If there really is a God, why are there handicapped people?" That changed when one day I overheard one of the workers singing, "Jesus Loves Me, This I Know." This special person wasn't blaming God or doubting that there is one. He could not understand the complex theological issues, but he knew Jesus loves him, and that was enough for him. His simple faith far exceeded mine. He certainly had no spiritual handicaps.
     In later years my mother developed Alzheimers disease, which robs the  memory. I have come to appreciate people with mental deficiencies even more. Though her mental faculties gradually faded, she still had much to offer throughout most of the progression of the disease. And through the experience she taught me I still have much to learn.
     I challenge each of you to get involved with the "handicapped" if you get a chance. You'll be surprised at  how much they teach you. --Becky Wall