Westhaven

As we rounded the curve on the rough Jamaican mountain road, the tall chain-link gates seem to open automatically, leading us into the Westhaven Center. Spying our car, a young man let out a piercing scream that would have delighted Alfred Hitchcock. He galloped way too close alongside our taxi as it slowed to a stop. I took a deep breath and got out of the car.

Our nervous group looked around at those disfigured children who could not walk or run on their own. The screamer had made his way to the other end of the compound letting out screams as he went. Everyone knew that visitors had arrived and several residents headed for us. A few employees also coming our way helped us to relax a little. They had children hanging on them as they approached to welcome us. One young man had a huge smile, twisted legs, arms he couldn’t control, and a Frisbee in his right hand.

As I approached, his head snapped back, hard enough to make the two ball caps he was wearing almost fly off. In one jerky motion he shoved the large white Frisbee under his left arm and stuck out his right hand. All five fingers on that hand looked as if they had a mind of their own. When his hand came forward again with a jerk, I was able to anticipate where to catch it in mid-air, and did. To my great surprise, he spoke in a clear quiet voice and said, “Hello, my name is Keno. What is yours?” I held on tight to his hand, looked him in the eyes and told him my name, saying “It is a real pleasure to meet you.”

Trying to position his body, he asked, “So why are you here?” I said that we just wanted to visit. “Would you please take me over there?” he asked, motioning toward my group with his chin.

Keno was an instant hit with the group. As they got acquainted, I heard noises coming from a porch to my right. There were eight children, all twisted to some degree or other. None could speak clearly but most could make eye contact. Some could sense touch and enjoyed it; others didn’t seem to feel a thing.

I was drawn to a little girl with a beautiful smile and eyes that could not focus for more than a few seconds. I touched her soft twisted hand and held it where the palm and fingers seemed to grow together. I spoke to her and rubbed the back of her head and she seemed to relax, as if to say, “That’s all I wanted; that’s all I ever really wanted.” I said a silent prayer for this little girl, thinking about the verse, “The king asked, ‘Is there no one still left of the house of Saul to whom I can show God's kindness?’ Ziba answered the king, ‘There is still a son of Jonathan; he is crippled in both feet.’" (2 Samuel 9:3)

As I walked out from this shady porch protecting kids in wheelchairs from the sun, a happy young man with cerebral palsy greeted me. He begged for attention with loud noises, a big smile, and strong arms whose muscles and tendons were rubber-band tight. He wore a new cap with a stiff brim and carried a bright yellow tennis ball. One hand gripped the ball so hard that I thought it would explode, while the other hand grabbed my arm. He said, “Kuuun” (not able to make the “m” sound with a mouth that wouldn’t close).

Even though his stiff legs didn’t bend, he moved quite well by throwing one hip forward then the other. He reminded me of the Tin Man, only with flesh and blood, and very quickly we were walking arm and arm toward the other end of the compound.

A young boy with Down syndrome and a bad haircut followed us saying, “Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey?” Tin Man pulled me along, laughing with his mouth open in such a way as to sound like he was choking. The boy yelling at us was carrying a makeshift cricket bat. I never got his name, but I did get the fact that whether he ever hit the ball or not, he loved swinging that bat. I nick-named him Bat Boy.

Tin Man handed me a tennis ball and with grunting noises he got me into position so that I could bowl the “cricket” ball to Bat Boy. I worried about the folks walking around because he was so intent on the game, nothing else mattered. He was in cricket heaven – here were a bunch of new visitors who had not already bowled the ball to him a thousand times! He was making the most of the opportunity.

Tin Man and I got an unsuspecting visitor to begin bowling the ball to Bat Boy and we snuck off snickering, Tin Man holding his crooked fingers to his mouth as if to say “Shhhhhhh.” We left Bat Boy with a whole new set of friends and made our way along a well-worn path that passed Keno, the young man wearing two ball caps and a smile that drew folks to him.

The others in our group were being surrounded and touched and loved on, even if it made them uncomfortable. At Westhaven Center, personal space is not an issue – for them. The kids are drawn to visitors like moths drawn to light bulbs. Unconditional “lovers” walked up to strangers, held their hands or laid their heads on shoulders of people they have never met before. I thought, “This must be what heaven will be like; no barriers.”

The next thing floored me. As I walked along holding hands with Tin Man, we came to a young lady lying flat on her back. Her legs were twisted and small and hung off the end of her wheelchair bed. She smiled when I spoke to her and took me off guard. I touched one of her flipper arms and that drew the attention of her eyes. With a hockey-players smile with the front teeth missing she said, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, “And how are you, young lady?” I asked her name. She smiled and said, “Carey, my name is Carey.” Then she said, “My friend here,” motioning to her right with her eyes, “That’s Philutia, she can’t speak.” I spoke to Philutia and got an instant response, a shy smile, and she dipped her head as she blushed. I had almost passed Carey by because she looked so deformed, so twisted, so – well, so out of it. I learned that I was the one who was deformed and twisted in my thinking.

I had a pleasant conversation with Carey and through her learned the names of these special kids who were quickly becoming a part of my life. Tin Man’s name was William. When I said to him, “Your name is William,” he got the biggest grin and answered, “Yeeeeaaaah!” nearly falling over from excitement.

Carey introduced me to Kevin who leaned toward us as the intros were being made. He wanted to make sure that I knew who he was, and that he was important. And so he was. With tired red eyes, he crinkled his face to say hello when I spoke his name and touched his arm. Kevin was not able to speak but asked me to sit beside him by patting the bench he sat on. So I sat down with him. He wanted to hold my left hand and put his head on my left shoulder. Noticing that my right hand had a brace on it, he held it up and looked at me as if to ask, “What happened?”

I said, “I broke my finger so I have to wear the brace.” Then Kevin did something that completely turned me to putty. It’s times like these that the Creator gets my attention the clearest, so clear that words don’t have to be said. I was able to hold my composure with the Greeter, with William the Tin Man, with Keno Two Caps, with Bat Boy, and even with Carey who introduced me to all these misfits, but Kevin completely took me off guard.

He pulled my braced right hand up and held it tenderly, patted it on the top very gently and then met it half way up to his lips and kissed it. He looked at me and turned and kissed it again and then laid it on his own lap as if to say, “I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I will take care of you.” He laid his small hand over my braced hand and smiled, and stared out from under the canopy where we sat together.

As we all sat together, I thought about the scripture, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” (2 Cor.1:3-4) I sat with Kevin for a few minutes and wondered where he had learned to comfort like that, and if I ever would.

I struggled to hold back warm tears for people I had only met forty-five minutes earlier. Kevin sat content, cradling my braced hand on his lap in between his two small hands. He had a slight smile on his smooth face as he sat very still staring out somewhere I could not go, patting my hand ever so gently. I turned my head so passersby could not see the mess that I had become.

I watched Bat Boy and the players he had tricked into his game. He would swing like mad and not connect time and time again, but when he did, the fuzzy yellow tennis ball would fly off his bat like a Jamaican cricket champion had hit it and he would squeal with joy.

William the Tin Man went after a loose ball and almost caught up to it when his feet tripped on something that sent him sprawling like a giant redwood. Because his legs didn’t bend, there was no rescue from a straight front-on fall. Landing hard chest first, he let out an involuntary gush of air. Yet not missing a beat, with his strong uncoordinated arms he pushed his hips and rump high into the air until his locked legs were vertical and could support the weight of his upper body. Once up, he smiled, said “I okayyeee,” and threw the ball underhanded toward Bat Boy again. During this whole time, Bat Boy waited patiently as Tin Man, now covered with dry grass clippings, pulled himself together.

Watching everything going on around me, I began to get a little upset with God. I tried to absorb the tangled mess and twisted bodies, slow thinkers and droolers. The odd sounds of moans, squeals, grunts and faint crying could be heard. The tune came to my mind from a Christmas special I have seen since I was a kid: ”We’re from the Island of Misfits,” except here was no Charlie in the Box or elephant with big polka dots. These are people, fellow human beings who want to connect with someone else as badly as you and I do.

God was reading my mind and asked me if I would have done it differently. I looked at Tin Man, just standing alone and looking at something, his mouth agape and grass clippings all over.

I answered, “Yes, I would have done it differently. I don’t understand why they have to suffer. I don’t understand why some will never speak a word and others say way too much. Why can William the Tin Man hardly walk, while others are too lazy to walk down the street? I don’t understand why Carey will never be able to sit up but you gave her one good eye that she could focus with in order to introduce me to all these folks. Why does Trish have to sit in diapers and wait for someone who can read the slight signal she gives with her head and eyes that she wants to be pushed in the open yard and visit people and feel a breeze on her face? I don’t get it. No, you’re right, I would have done it differently.”

That’s when I thought I heard that still small voice and God said, “They bring me glory.” It must have been the Lord, because instantly I saw a video playing in front of me of the Kingdom to come.

Two huge stone columns were standing close together holding heavy iron gates that were swung open. These narrow gates looked strong, and people from every nation were walking through them. No one was pushing their way through but they all seemed quite happy to be there. All the people had a smile on their face and were welcomed by other folks standing around the gate.

I realized that I was off to one side, sitting in a grandstand, more or less. The stands were full of folks laughing and smiling and patting each other on the back and pointing to other folks hugging and greeting one another at the entrance. It was wonderful, because I realized that this was heaven and I had front row seats as folks were coming home for the first time, and last time; coming home.

I don’t remember asking the guy next to me anything specific, but he pointed toward the gate and said, “Watch this.” Although his voice was calm, it had an edge of excitement to it. He leaned forward a bit and placed a hand on each knee, smiling and watching. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze – and then the miracle happened. Everyone around me seemed surprised except for that fellow, who told me, “Watch this.”

Through the gates walked William the Tin Man, and as he did, he tested new knees and joints that had never worked before. In one of his strong hands he carried a bright yellow tennis ball that he bounced on the cobblestone road once for good measure. Then he looked over at us and smiled that huge smile that he always had, just relaxed now. He walked in with the grace of a prince, because the Creator had made him like one.

I was surprised when he walked straight over to the man sitting beside me and with unleashed charm said, “My King.” He bowed at the waist, raised himself again and made full eye contact with his King, who acknowledged the prince with the nod of his head. Keeping eye contact, William slowly backed away. Others gathered around him, old friends, talking to him and showing their honest surprise at the miracle that had taken place.

Then the King looked toward the gate again and said, “You’re gonna love this.” I caught my breath as I watched Carey walk in. She too had folks gathering around her, and started naming them one by one as she had done for me at Westhaven. Where her front teeth had been missing, she now had perfect new ones and smiled our direction. Carey also made her way toward the King, and as he stood, I witnessed His charm. He asked her, “And who am I, Carey?” Instantly she fell at his feet, kissed them, looked up into his eyes and said in the same sweet voice that I heard before, “Jesus. Your name is Jesus, and you are my Lord.”

He held out his arms and drew her to himself. Carey almost disappeared in the folds of the clean white clothes her Lord was wearing as he hugged her. She breathed in slowly and deeply taking in his fragrance and said, “I’ve never been able to hug like this before.” Then Jesus said, “There’s a lot more where that came from! Welcome home!” Loud applause filled the air.

No sooner had Carey walked off with a group of folks than we heard a great commotion at the gates. Walking arm in arm was Bat Boy and Keno, laughing and jabbing each other. Bat Boy had a beautiful new cricket bat balanced across his right shoulder, holding it with his strong arms. He wore the equipment of a champion cricketer and was saying, ”Hey, hey, hey, hey,” trying to get Keno’s attention who was talking to some old friends. Keno also had a beautiful smile and his hand and eye coordination was exemplary. He wore one bright new cap, so white it almost hurt my eyes to gaze on it. Jesus smiled while looking at them and said, “Wait for it, wait for it…”

Bat Boy saw him first. “Hey, hey, hey,” he yelled, pointing the bat toward Jesus. While he was yelling, he was trying to get everyone’s attention around him. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s Him, it’s Him,” and he ran to Jesus, leaving Keno well behind.

“Lord, it is so good to see you, oh yeah and thanks for this great bat, you knew exactly what I wanted!” A crowd gathered and the Lord said to Bat Boy, “Of course I knew what you wanted, I made you.”

Keno caught up with us and stepped in. After greeting the Lord with his big smile he said quietly and smoothly, “Lord.” He took his cap off and held it against his strong chest; “I want to thank you for all the years in the chair. I would have never understood your glory as I do at this very moment, without all the things you allowed in my life. You are worthy to be praised, you are God alone and there is no other.” As he said it, a great shout went up around us, and it seemed as if the ground and the trees and grass and bleachers and everything that was anything laughed and moved and shouted at the same time “You are worthy, you are worthy, you are worthy.”

“By the way,” Keno said, tapping Bat Boy on the shoulder, “I got something for you,” and he pulled a brand new authentic cricket ball from behind him. He threw it a few inches into the air and catching it with hands that worked, he gave a beautiful half smile to his friend. “Hey, hey, hey, hey,” Bat Boy was yelling and looking around, first at Jesus and then to everyone standing around and then back at Keno.

Keno motioned with a snap of his head, “Let’s go, the game is about to start.” Bat Boy could not contain himself and bolted away from the Lord. He was some yards away before he turned, “Hey, hey, hey, Jesus, are you coming, are you coming? I have always wanted you to watch me, are you coming?”

Jesus smiled as everyone looked back at him, “Charles, I have always watched you and you brought me glory, just as you have done now and will do for the endless days to come. Yes Charles, I will come and watch.” We all began to move in the direction the Lord was walking.

Charles could not remember the last time he’d heard anyone use his name, and he looked at Keno who said, ”Charles?” Keno giggled a little as he turned to walk.

We had not walked far when I heard someone ask me very softly, “And how is your hand now, Wick?” I stopped in my tracks, frozen. With all the commotion and newness, I had not thought about the friend who had touched me so deeply. I felt someone touch my hand from beside me and I turned to look into Kevin’s bright eyes. He smiled, crinkled his face and asked, “How are you?”

“Fine,” I said, “I am really so, so fine.” Jesus had paused because he knew Kevin was coming. We walked hand in hand and caught up with the crowd and Jesus.

Kevin approached him, and letting my hand go, he reached out to take hold of the Master’s hands. Jesus laid his hands in Kevin’s and then I saw it, the thing that brought Him glory many times and was about to again.

Kevin tenderly and compassionately kissed the Savior’s hands one at a time, looked up into his eyes and thanked him for all the years he couldn’t speak, so that when he could, he could thank his Creator for everything. He kissed his hands again and again.

Jesus smiled and said, “You have given me glory.” And we turned to continue toward the game with Keno and Charles, Carey and Philutia and William. We all walked along, sometimes picking up a pebble to toss to the side or grabbing a sweet blade of tall green grass to put between our lips.

It was glorious, more glorious and fun than I would have ever been able to imagine – but something was missing. It was like walking out of the door of your house and knowing that something is not quite right, not quite finished. I could not think of what it was and was snapped back to our walk when I heard Charles in the distance yelling, “Hey, hey, hey, hey.”

I thought he must have reached the field or found a new friend to bowl the cricket ball to him, but it was none of those things. It was not about him, it was about who he saw coming through the narrow gates. Charles had walked up a gentle slope overlooking the narrow gates and surrounding area, and so he saw him first, and we all heard him next.

Scripture was being quoted so rapidly and clearly and loudly that everyone’s attention was drawn back toward the narrow gates. Standing there was the Screamer, arms straight out making him look like a human cross. He stood tall and strong as he screamed:

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

A cheer went up, and again he screamed:

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

And again, cheers, and again he screamed!

"You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power, for you created all things, and by your will they were created and have their being."

After some of the cheering slowed, the Screamer threw his arms straight back, and like a beautiful hood ornament he ran at an incredible speed, screaming praise after praise after praise to his Father in Glory.

I looked at Jesus and he smiled and said, “I told you, they bring me glory.”

We could hear the Screamer shouting as he ran throughout the heavens, “Give Him Glory, Give Him Glory, Give Him Glory! Jesus looked at me, cocked his head as if trying to hear the Screamer one more time and said, “That’s my boy, yep, that’s my boy.” And we turned and continued our walk.

To God be the Glory Forever and Forever.

Wick Jackson