When I was young Gerri Bethune was the most special person at our church, the Springfield Church of God.
When we got to church early I watched the adults move around greeting one another, hoping they would shake my hand, and waiting for Gerri to arrive. Gerri was different from everyone. She had short dark hair; all the other women had long hair. Some wore it in a tight bun on the back of their heads; some had it piled high on top, and some let it hang down on their shoulders. But Gerry’s was short, barely hanging over her collar.
Gerri was different because she sat in a wheelchair. I could hear the men talking as two of them carried her in her chair up the stairs. Sometimes her father would lift her out of the chair and carry her in his arms, letting someone else carry the chair.
Once Gerri was on the sanctuary level, people began to gather around her. The women would hug her, some giving her a kiss on the cheek. The men would grasp her hand in both of theirs. Slowly her father would roll her down the aisle, people talking as they went.
She was always brought to the front of the sanctuary on the left-hand side next to the wall, just below the platform. Before the service began almost everyone would walk down front to say hello to Gerri. She was the most special person in church; everyone wanted to talk with Gerri. Everyone loved her.
When I was very young, I was afraid of Gerri. She had cerebral palsy. Back then I didn’t know those words or what they mean. What I did know was that I could not understand her when she talked. Her words were garbled and she would squeal often. Her hands and arms would move in all directions when she tried to talk. She was different in ways I didn’t understand.
I asked my mother why Gerri was different, and she said she had been dropped on her head when she was a baby. I don’t know if mom didn’t understand cerebral palsy or if she was trying to motivate me to be more careful when I played. I was afraid something would happen and I would become like Gerry. At the same time I wanted everyone to love me the way they loved Gerri.
I now know Gerri was loved deeply because God's hand was on her. She knew God and she loved deeply. She was happy to see everyone. She was a joyful presence in the house of the Lord. She gave more to the people than they could ever give to her.
I am thankful for the Springfield Church of God. I am thankful for Gerri Bethune. Together they taught me God’s love is not based on how we look or what we can give. God’s love is a work of grace; in God’s presence, the greatest gifts often come through the weakest among us. There is a special place for everybody in the family of God.
When we got to church early I watched the adults move around greeting one another, hoping they would shake my hand, and waiting for Gerri to arrive. Gerri was different from everyone. She had short dark hair; all the other women had long hair. Some wore it in a tight bun on the back of their heads; some had it piled high on top, and some let it hang down on their shoulders. But Gerry’s was short, barely hanging over her collar.
Gerri was different because she sat in a wheelchair. I could hear the men talking as two of them carried her in her chair up the stairs. Sometimes her father would lift her out of the chair and carry her in his arms, letting someone else carry the chair.
Once Gerri was on the sanctuary level, people began to gather around her. The women would hug her, some giving her a kiss on the cheek. The men would grasp her hand in both of theirs. Slowly her father would roll her down the aisle, people talking as they went.
She was always brought to the front of the sanctuary on the left-hand side next to the wall, just below the platform. Before the service began almost everyone would walk down front to say hello to Gerri. She was the most special person in church; everyone wanted to talk with Gerri. Everyone loved her.
When I was very young, I was afraid of Gerri. She had cerebral palsy. Back then I didn’t know those words or what they mean. What I did know was that I could not understand her when she talked. Her words were garbled and she would squeal often. Her hands and arms would move in all directions when she tried to talk. She was different in ways I didn’t understand.
I asked my mother why Gerri was different, and she said she had been dropped on her head when she was a baby. I don’t know if mom didn’t understand cerebral palsy or if she was trying to motivate me to be more careful when I played. I was afraid something would happen and I would become like Gerry. At the same time I wanted everyone to love me the way they loved Gerri.
I now know Gerri was loved deeply because God's hand was on her. She knew God and she loved deeply. She was happy to see everyone. She was a joyful presence in the house of the Lord. She gave more to the people than they could ever give to her.
I am thankful for the Springfield Church of God. I am thankful for Gerri Bethune. Together they taught me God’s love is not based on how we look or what we can give. God’s love is a work of grace; in God’s presence, the greatest gifts often come through the weakest among us. There is a special place for everybody in the family of God.
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