Mr. Carter, Just One More Song

I’ll never forget the first time I heard him sing the notes of praise that gently and joyfully filled the hallway. I rounded the corner to discover the source of my concert coming from a slightly rotund man directing two special needs students to the bathroom. I stood and stared as the door closed. Still the words “Oh my Jesus...” wafted down the hall.
*
I had met Reggie Carter: Para-professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. Someone who I would call my friend. Every day, Mr. Carter and Larry would pick up the recycle paper. Larry has downs syndrome, is a full fledged character and loved nothing more than escaping Mr. Carter’s watchful eye and running to momentary freedom down the hall. Larry laughing in escape. Mr. Carter laughing in pursuit. Captured and returned, Larry and Mr. Carter singing, pushing a cart of recycle paper. Mr. Carter succeeded in potty-training Larry, and never lost his song.
*
Mornings, I’d see Mr. Carter sitting at a table with four students, helping one to eat, encouraging another to feed himself, singing a praise song in response to the temper tantrum of a third. Carrying trash for those who could not. Encouraging those who could not.
*
At lunch Mr. Carter walked backwards with outstretched hands to make sure Donnie did not spill his plate. Donnie is autistic. Mr. Carter was filling the cafeteria with a spontaneous song celebrating Donnie’s success in carrying his plate. And did they celebrate. Donnie carried his plate all the way from the lunch line to his seat. We were treated to a song and a dance! Hurrah! The next day, Donnie took two steps and the plate fell from his trembling hands to the floor. Mr. Carter cleaned it up with a smile and started a new song of encouragement all over. From the beginning. Because in another week or two weeks or month, Donnie would again carry his plate all by himself all the way to his table. And Mr. Carter would then sing and clap and dance and celebrate Donnie’s new success.
*
Some days I’d arrive at school to see Mr. Carter sitting on the steps, awaiting the bus, reading his Bible. I was greeted to another day with a smile, a laugh and maybe the last line of an old joke we had shared a hundred times before.
*
The writer of the Book of James said, you tell me of you faith by your words, I will show you my faith by my deeds. Had James the brother of our Lord met Mr. Carter, our Bibles might well have read, Mr. Religious stuffed shirt, you may tell me of your faith with your words, but Mr. Carter will show you real faith by his deeds.
*
He saw no color. He helped others see no color. Ready to use, refusing to abuse working relationships he made everyone seem like a special friend, and I think we were. He’d sing a song, say a prayer and then look at a coworker with a twinkle in his eye and they’d say together, “Super Twin Power Activate!”, no child, no tantrum, no crisis could withstand this united assault of super-power twin love. If Satan was autistic, Reggie Carter would have stormed the gates of Hell with a water pistol, firmly believing he could have brought him God’s love, a song and the expectation that Old Scratch would indeed clean up his act before the bus came.
*
Never a discouraging word, never a negative comment, the answer was always the same; “I’m just too blessed to be stressed.” And always a song.
*
If there is a tragedy in Mr. Carter’s life it is that the upper and middle management powers at the District Big House had time to make contradictory policy, in-effective rules and pointless programs, but they never had time to get to know God’s Ambassador in their own department. Had these anointed leaders watched this precious servant, they would have been reborn as true leaders. It never happened.
*
I could go on with a hundred more stories in the classroom and on the playground. A hundred more songs: playing in the gym and getting on the bus. But let’s just say Reggie Carter lived a life of ministry in every setting, in every circumstance and he always did it armed with a smile and a song. Suffice it to say, Mr. Reggie Carter preached as eloquent a sermon while pushing a recycle cart as the best paid minister has ever preached from the highest pulpit in a downtown church.
*
As soon as I am done writing these words I will return to the same school, the same halls. There will be Donnie. There will be Larry. There will be a cart of recycle paper. There will be students eating in the cafeteria. But there will not be a song or Mr. Carter.
*
I am glad Reggie Carter has gone to sing in the halls of Heaven. But I am sad that we have lost Para professional, servant of Jesus, companion, co-worker, teacher of special needs children, mentor to us all. I am sad I have lost my friend. I am sad, Mr. Carter, that I can’t hear you sing just one more song.