Tim Wildmon
AFA president
January 1994 – In our town of Tupelo, Mississippi, there is a hot sandwich place that my wife, Alison, and I like to frequent. It’s a simple place with good food and good prices. Recently we – Alison, I, our six-year-old daughter, Wriley, our four-year-old son, Wesley, and our newborn son, Walker – went in and I seated the kids while Alison ordered the food. (Alison always volunteers to order the food while I seat the children. I finally figured out that these are among her most cherished moments of peace, just waiting in line reflecting on important things of the day like, “Do I want cheese on that burger or not?”)
Anyway, on this particular day the children and I sat down a few tables away from another family. This family of five included one young girl – about 15-years-old I guess – who was mentally retarded. She chewed her food with her mouth wide open, some of it falling out. Her hands went here and there. She stared straight ahead and seemed almost oblivious to those around her, even the older women who was helping her and calling her name.
I was really hoping Wriley and Wesley wouldn’t notice and thus I wouldn’t have to explain what was wrong and answer all their questions. As I got the baby situated I noticed Wriley had begun watching the young girl and her mother, every few seconds looking back at me. She then asked, “Daddy, what’s wrong with that girl? She’s spitting her food back out of her mouth.”
I had known this day would come. And there will be many more the next few years. Days when you try to explain to your children – who think you have all the answers –why life isn’t fair and why bad things happen to good people. I wanted to offer her a four part tape series by Dr. Dobson. But I knew it was just Wriley and me.
“Don’t stare at those people, it’s not nice to stare,” I said. “Wriley, some people are born with problems which make it hard for them to do things that other people can do. We need to be extra nice to people like that girl so that she won’t feel sad or feel like she doesn’t have any friends. Jesus loves that little girl just like he loves you and me. O.K.?”
“O.K.,” she said quietly. “But why is she spitting her food out like that? Can she not eat right, Daddy?”
“No, she has to have people help her eat, go places and other things,” I said. “She needs special care.” I wanted to teach my daughter about compassion.
Compassion is, of course, from God. There has never been – nor will there ever be – a more giving and compassionate person than Jesus Christ. This world is bitter, cold and crusty. A lot of times this writer is bitter, cold and crusty. I’m not intentional about it, but selfishness and greed tend to nullify compassion in my life, I don’t know about yours. It’s a struggle to keep selfishness in check.
I do not have the answers for why this little girl was so afflicted except the fact that we live in an imperfect and fallen world. But I do know the nature of God is one of compassion. Nehemiah 9:17 reads: “But you are a forgiving God, gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love.” And I do know the nature of Christ is to have pity. Matthew 9:36 reads: “When He (Jesus) saw the crowds He had compassion on them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” And I do know that it should be the nature of believers in Christ to be tender and compassionate, for in Colossians 3:12 Paul writes, “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience.”
Well, I suppose the mother of that little girl must have asked the question“Why?” many, many times. Even so, she was still there extending tender loving care to that little mentally retarded girl, her child. I hope I was able to convey the value of compassion to Wriley. God, help me. We have too many bitter, cold and crusty people in the world as it is. 
