An Open Moment

Cherita sits in her motorized wheelchair, an attendant at her side. Her limbs contorted and only guttural sounds for speech. When we sing she often makes a deep throated sound that is unlike any speech sound. Sunday BrIan walked down the aisle to his preferred seat. Brian who is shorter than my five feet, whose speech is hard to understand, who is limited in his understanding and who says the same thing every week when he speaks about his concerns and his thanks—stopped in front of her chair. They know each other from the Sunday Fellowship group— a gathering of individuals with developmental delays. 

Brian brushed his hand gently over Cherita’s hair and kissed her on the forehead. A gentle kiss, a soft touch. He smiled and continued to his seat. 

Other people often hold her hand when they walk past her wheelchair, but the tenderness of Brian’s kiss was a witness to this season.