Saturday afternoon, Russ and I headed for Oxford to attend a memorial service for Mary Jo Ray, the wife of our three eagle scout sons' first scoutmaster, T.J. Ray and who was also the mom of Mark. Mark and his wife have been those dear friends that you may be separated by miles but you can always pick right up where you left off. We all exchanged information about what our kids were doing and how many grandkids we all had and congratulated Mark on being the author of the new scoutmaster's handbook. It was hard to believe Mary Jo was gone.
It never occurred to me until I was closing the car door and stepping out onto the sidewalk beside the Episcopal Church that this was going to be an emotional journey for me far beyond the memorial service I was attending. As my feet hit the concrete sidewalk beside the church I realized that this was the first time I had come face to face with the first location of the Lafayette Child Development Center (LCDC) where Lynda had attended school as a six year old after we returned to Oxford from Brewton, Alabama. In fact, this was the place that I had come to volunteer in 1973 when I was introduced by Dr. Wanda Dean, the director of LCDC to the world of special education. It was in the fellowship hall of this church that I met Jan Reynolds who would become my mentor and John Little, Gloria Saucier, Amy Scott, and Walter Rogers, students who would make such an impression on my life that I would not only become a special educator but would within a year become the foster parent to a child with autism, become Lynda's mom through adoption and return to Oxford so she could attend the LCDC as a student herself.
As I made it to the front door of the church, I was already overcome by the memories that were flooding over me. As I entered the sanctuary, I looked up to see that Wanda and Mike Dean were ushers for the memorial service. Forty-two years later I sat in the sanctuary of the church that had so graciously opened their doors to the program for children with severe disabilities before schools were obligated by law to provide services. The sanctuary is rich with tradition with deep burgundy velvet cushioned pews and prayer benches. The dark wood is beautiful as are the exquisite stained glass throughout the sanctuary. There are not many rooms preserved in the style and reverence that this sanctuary displays but all I could think about was how this building with the exception of the sanctuary (classrooms, the fellowship hall, the kitchen, the playground...every inch of the facility) had been opened to teachers, volunteers, families and students with special needs for years. No one had been concerned about the fact that the walls might be scratched or the materials and equipment had to be moved out every Friday afternoon and put back into place each Monday morning for LCDC and later the Oxford Child Development Center (OCDC)...the church saw a need and they lovingly filled this need for my child with special needs and many of her friends.
As I fought to regain my composure to participate in the memorial service I had come to be a part of, I knew that after the service, there was a reception in the parrish hall which would require me to walk down the halls I had walked so many times...by the classrooms and into the big fellowship hall where I could still see in my mind the memories of where I first saw John playing with a ball, learned to feed Gloria and quickly followed Walter to the bathroom where he regularly turned on the hot water...a mystery unsolved to this day as to why it was so appealing to him.
I saw where Lynda took her naps and I have to admit it was overwhelming with the emotions that played in my mind faster than I could process them. I took Russ from corner to corner telling him about the children who fascinated me so much I returned day after day to visit and learn more about. I talked to Wanda about the memories and how I hadn't even thought of how this was going to affect me. I have been back in the building many, many times through the years but this was the first time since Lynda's death two years ago. That changed everything. When she was living, it was one of many places special to her educational history. With her gone, it took on special significance because it was her first school in Oxford. It was the reason she was mine. It was where God spoke to me and put the love of children with special needs into my heart using those children I previously named to introduce me to my life's passion.
I was exhausted when I left the service. It was wonderful to catch up with old friends and see the importance of us getting together much more frequently. It was a sad occasion when we are saying goodbye to a friend even though we knew she is in heaven and we will see her again. It is hard to relive so many memories of my earliest times with Lynda and even the years that preceeded my visit to the welfare department and social services in Brewton after moving from Oxford to apply to be a foster parent of a special needs child.
God blessed me Saturday with so many warm and wonderful memories and the reminder of how God had plans for me and my life that I could have never dreamed of on my own or never could have accomplished without His steadfast love and guidance. I don't believe in accidents or coincidences. I know without a doubt I walked into St. Peter's Episcopal Church in 1973 because God led me there. I have nothing but warm and wonderful memories of Lynda's time there and could never begin to thank the church members in the 1970's for opening their hearts and facilities to a group of special needs children. They demonstrated God's love in more ways than they will ever know this side of heaven.
The rooms were silent but I still heard the voices and laughter and saw the precious little faces as if they were being streamed across the air by some new technology. Time frozen for a few moments. And then I blinked and was back in the present year of 2015. Lynda was no longer a little blond six year old streak giggling as she darted from place to place. John was no longer sitting on the floor with me rolling a red ball back and forth. Memories are wonderful. They can be replayed over and over when the time is right. The thing that was palatable was the love we felt in that room over 40 years ago. I left felling the love of the past had been wrapped around me like a warm blanket just by being in that place. It was good. Very good.
