I Saw You Smile
Though his head shook from side to side, I could see him light up as his eyes caught mine.
After Sunday service, Irving made his way toward me. I was used to our weekly encounters. I noticed when he wasn’t there; I waited for him when he was. Though his head shook from side to side, I could see him light up as his eyes caught mine. I grinned as he shakily reached for my hand. “I like you,” he said, implying he didn’t like everybody.
When I was 10 years old, my family moved to New Hampshire and we met Irving. He was about 65. For some reason, he liked me. As I grew up, a simple bond of handshakes, smiles and “I like you’s” formed between us.
He lived with the Sawyers along with several other individuals who had mental or physical disabilities. The Sawyers faithfully brought them to church, and it wasn’t strange for them to be there — even when they’d talk loudly, clap off beat or stand midsermon. They were just another “family” in our congregation.
After I left for college, whenever I returned home, I looked for Irving at church and waited for him to come my way. He never forgot who I was.
One time at a church potluck, Irving and his expressionless friend, Fred, had a “joke” to share with my sister Cherish and me. When Irving saw us, he chuckled, “Fred can speak French. Speak French, Fred. Speak French.”
“Oui, oui,” Fred replied blandly.
Irving burst into laughter, slapping Fred on the back. His laughter was contagious, and soon we were hysterical at the silliness of it all.
But that was the extent of our conversations. At times Irving would blurt out something about farm life. I’d ask questions, but discussion never happened. He would shake my hand or pat my shoulder and continue to his next destination.
Coincidentally, when I moved to Missouri after college, the church I attended brought several adults with disabilities to the Sunday services. It didn’t faze me.
Then, one day, a friend confessed — to my shock — that he was afraid to visit my church. He had heard that a girl who attended there wore a helmet with a face guard to prevent her from biting people. The truth was she wore it for protection; she suffered from seizures.
Unfortunately, my friend missed experiencing the same love and acceptance this girl and Irving found at church. He also missed a weekly smile.