My time was my own and I could simply enjoy a day at the Critter Barn with my grandkids.

I was basking in the glow of retirement – no more lesson plans, deadlines, grading papers or those dreaded self-studies. I had discovered this wonderful little working farm where children were free to roam and discover sheep, cows, horses, cats and chickens. There was even a pen in which to cavort with kids of the animal variety.

Parking at the Critter Barn was limited so I had dropped the grandchildren off with Grandma and I was walking back to find them. As I walked up, I crossed paths with Mary. I am really not one to jump into random conversations with strangers. I don’t typically mingle after church and I even get a little nervous about our church’s practice of Passing the Peace to our neighbors. How much do I talk before the music gracefully signals us back to our seats?

But somehow I got to talking with Mary. I found out that she was the founder and CEO of the Critter Barn. She discovered that my background was special education.

All of a sudden, Mary touched my arm, looked me straight in the eye, and said, “I think God just brought you here to me.” 

My immediate reaction was, “How do I duck out of this one?”  

How does one respond to a statement like that? It seems like someone’s not playing fair by calling upon the Lord to get you to do something or contribute to their cause.

Yet, as it turns out, perhaps Mary was right.

The Critter Barn was in the process of moving to a larger location. Mary shared that she had a passion to make it a place available to anyone and everyone. She needed someone with expertise to referee between dueling architects – and someone to manage the paperwork for an application to be certified in universal design, something no farm had ever done. Universal design is an architectural and construction term indicating a space is designed for everyone—including people with disabilities, older adults, and children—without specialized, visible adaptations. It aims for broader, proactive, lower physical-effort usability, than simply “ADA compliant” (handicapped accessible).

And I found it to be a pure blessing to serve. So had God facilitated that nudge?

Another part of this “blessed” interaction was communicating with my colleague, Dr. Christine Scholma to see if some of her students in special education might somehow serve in developing this place that could be available to everyone – even those with the most unique needs.  I ended up being able to partner with four students from Trinity Christian College – Brenna Groenewold, Mariel Martin, Amanda Ophoff, and Matteo Tancredi – to produce an introductory booklet that we titled Come In…and Let Me Tell You.  

The booklet was a series of vignettes gathered by research or interview with persons that had various disabilities such as autism, deafness, cerebral palsy, and visual impairment. I asked my friend Isaac, who has dwarfism, to design the cover.

I shared the names of several people that the Trinity students could interview and I wanted to make sure that one of them would interview Kathy Nimmer. Kathy is a Trinity graduate that had lost her eyesight by her senior year to a rare degenerative disease. Yet this did not stop her from earning a Master’s degree in English and being named the Indiana Teacher of the Year in 2015. I was delighted to hear of Kathy teaching a high school English class with a student that was also hearing impaired. A blind teacher with a service dog and an interpreter signing to an attentive student. What a Norman Rockwell picture of an accommodating American school!

I also knew that Kathy was a talented writer and had published a book, Minutes in the Dark, Eternity in the Light.  It was a collection of what Kathy termed “minute poems” — each entry was exactly sixty syllables.  Per the students’ request, Kathy agreed to write a minute poem for our booklet. When I read it, I knew it had to be the introduction to our work. The committee at the Critter Barn wholeheartedly agreed. As I read it once again I can’t help but think it could also serve as a spiritual invitation to take God up on whatever circumstances happen, or are sent, our way.  Perhaps, even a welcome to a heavenly home.

Come In

I step toward this that you have made
Because I want
And wish and hope
To be here too.
You invite me in, not with words,
But with choices
That say to me,
“Yes, you matter.”
No trumpets blare nor spotlights glow,
Only what’s right.
I pause, breathe, smile,
And step inside