Those with special needs show us path to heaven

    At my frequently visited Target, there’s usually a check-out line that is slightly longer than the others, a line that moves at a slower pace than the ones beside it. This is the line that my husband and I look for during each of our visits.
    We notice, first, the length, and then, we look to make sure that we see the right person: Colin.
    With salt and pepper hair, too-big glasses, and a smile that would brighten anyone’s day, Colin stands behind his register, taking each item off of the conveyer belt, while at the same chatting away with each person that comes through his line. Sometimes he asks about certain items that he sees gliding through his hands and into the bag; sometimes he talks about the weather and the upcoming cold front or heat wave; and sometimes, if there’s a major sporting event, he’ll get very excited and talk to us about his favorite teams, especially the St. Louis Cardinals.
    When we finally make our way up to the front of the line, I like to think that we see an even bigger grin light up on Colin’s face. Remembering us each time, he greets us both with a high five. He’ll usually ask me about my students, because he’s picked up on the number of school supplies, pens and highlighters that I accrue during most visits. He talks with my husband about sports or local events.
    Each and every visit, we are greeted with the same welcome and, as we take our receipt and move along, he always tells us to come and see him again “real soon.”
    Colin is a person with special needs. At first, many people get in his line and complain about the amount of time it takes for him to ring up people. But then they notice that he is special and they become quiet. They usually watch as he takes the time to talk to people, always saying their name if they use a credit card.
    And I think they’re usually impressed: rather than trying to shove everything into one bag or just trying to rush through the process, Colin is careful with each of his customers’ commodities.
    Rather than being sidetracked by his conversation, he never forgets why he’s there in the first place: to take care of his customers. And that’s exactly what he’s doing, whether people realize it or not. Sometimes we forget what it’s like to simply strike up a conversation with someone else, without any reservations or constraints. Sometimes we forget how much a smile can really brighten our day. Sometimes we forget how unconditional love can really be.
    Growing up with a special-needs sister, I know that I’m a bit biased toward others like her. But it certainly hasn’t always been an easy path: there are always struggles, always differences.
    Even today, while I try to call my parents as often as possible, I don’t always talk to my sister as frequently as I should. But I’m trying harder to do my best at being more patient, more loving, to show more clearly the unconditional love that people like my sister, or like Colin, put on display everyday of their lives.
    As Valentine’s Day comes upon us, we frequently turn our attention to those we love and emphasize what their love means to us. This year, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about the unconditional love and kindness that we experience from individuals with special-needs.
    Their happiness, their brightness, their continual optimism is often contagious. And it is these qualities that make them truly special. Maybe this is why God put individuals with special-needs in our midst: as a reminder of how child-like, how simple, how unaffected, we need to be to enter into his kingdom.
    Heather Bozant Witcher can be reached at [email protected].