Andrea Sanborn

I see Ben glancing at her from the church aisle. Quickly, so she doesn’t notice. He tries his best to look like he’s ignoring her. But the Chocolate Lady is onto him. This little drama plays out each week. Furtive glances. Feigned indifference. Desire and fear wrestling it out in the post-service greetings and hugs. How will it end this time?

Not long after we joined this church, the Chocolate Lady spied Ben, who was desperately trying to avoid contact with her and people like her. Ben has Down Syndrome, a disability that frequently comes with a high sociability factor. But he also is non-verbal and has Autism, a disability that, for Ben, renders him resistant to social situations with strangers. I watch these competing tendencies battle each other every time we go somewhere. He longs to connect with people. He also dreads it.

Ben has a carefully crafted hierarchy of people he most easily responds to. Highest are teenage boys. Next are men and younger boys, followed by pretty girls. Trailing the list are women, and at the very bottom are older women who desperately want to interact with him.

Women like the Chocolate Lady.

She tried for months to get a response from him, with our encouragement (and frequently, admonishment). I explained Ben’s quirks to her, but she persisted. Finally, she asked what kind of candy he likes, and she became the Chocolate Lady.

She’s been bringing a little chocolate bar to him every Sunday now for about two years. And slowly, he’s begun to seek her out. Carefully, surreptitiously, because he doesn’t want to be the recipient of her full attention, he’ll creep close, hide his eyes, and hold out his hand. And the Chocolate Lady, bless her, hands over the precious bite.

Parents of people with disabilities long for our children to be welcomed and included. Any effort in that direction can quite literally bring us to tears. But those of us who parent the socially challenging ones are especially moved when a person makes a concerted effort to befriend our children. Most people, understandably, back off when they’re rebuffed. But a precious few strive to understand and are willing to persevere to befriend our children in spite of their behavior.

People like the Chocolate Lady.

Do you have a Ben in your church? Someone who is a little difficult to love? Someone who needs extra patience or understanding? There are many of us that are willing to do great things for the Lord, said D.L. Moody, but few of us are willing to do little things. But it is in those little things—serving “the least of these”—where we find Jesus.

We’ll go to church this Sunday, as always, and he’ll sit with his favorite people, and rush up front afterwards to hug our pastor. But he’ll also casually scan the room for someone else, looking for a person who has patiently pursued him for a long time. Like the Good Shepherd she serves, the Chocolate Lady will seek out Ben again, the lamb she has set her heart on loving.

And maybe, just maybe, this week he might sidle in for a hug.