the face of worship

i have a cousin named Terry. he is about 50-53 years old. he lives in an institution. Terry has down syndrome. i grew up having terry around all the time. i knew he was different, even as a small kid, but he is family. it was no big deal.

terry had a great laugh, but when we messed with him, he would jack us up.  i miss him, even now as i write this...i see his face, remember his voice. he could not say jeff, so he called me seff.

he went to church with us, loved church. he always cried. wept loudly at times. seemed to me he was responding to the holy spirit. he looked to me like he worshipped. he would sing along...well, he was actually singing his own song, and it was usually loud, often drowning out others around us, overlapping his verses, eyes closed and connecting. i will forever have that face etched in my mind.

terry was not supposed to live past 25 or so. he now has Alzheimer's. forgetting people, short tempered, closing himself off. needs structure now. regimen. it makes me sad really. although i miss him, i have not seen him in 5 years or so. i miss his smile, the way he would ask me for money, the bear hug he would give me, the singing. he loved elvis. he had a walkman he carried with him everywhere. singing. always singing. i probably wont see him again. i keep waiting for the call.

sat night, we went to our usual gathering of fellow believers for worship. great times, great music, great environment.

he sat right down front. a down kid. he was rockin the joint...air guitar, singing loud and completely off key. in a crowd of a couple thousand, he could not be missed. call it what you will, be he was connecting. full blown connection.

not sure what some saw. distraction maybe. not uncommon. it can be. when someone enters in to full on worship, it can be very distracting to non worshippers.

i know what i saw. i saw terry. his smile, his genuineness, his connection, his energy. i saw in this kid what i lack at times. a shameless loss of concern of what is around him. no cares, just connecting. i saw worship in this kids face. at that moment, special needs was what i thought of myself...not him. i needed a touch of what he had, because it was special.

i love you terry. 

may my heart lose interest in those around me and that which would hinder.  

thoughts from the journey.