The first time I saw Stanley I was eating my lunch with other members of my first grade class. He walked through the lunchroom with movements that reminded me of a crane. His feet were always way in front of his head and with each step his head lurched forward. He took each step with thought and determination, keeping his eyes fixed straight ahead. He did not look at us as he passed by our table, but I’m sure he heard us laughing at his awkward movements.

Stanley was born with Becker muscular dystrophy, a genetic disorder which involves a degenerative muscle weakness. The disease is carried on the X chromosome, which means that it affects only males. It may be transmitted by unaffected female carriers to their sons. Sons of carriers have a 50:50 chance of having the disease and daughters of carriers have a 50:50 chance of being carriers. Before Stanley was diagnosed with the disease, two more sons were born to the Beaty family: Tim and Howard. The odds went against these boys, too. All three were later diagnosed with the disease. As a child, I knew none of this. I knew only that Stanley was different and to me, different was funny.

Stanley and his brothers left our school to begin attending a school for people with special needs. I did not meet him or his brothers again until several years later when my family moved our church membership to Louisville Baptist Church. I discovered the Beaty family was among the church’s most faithful members.

By this time Stanley was in his mid-twenties. He was nonverbal to most people. In fact, it was years before I ever heard Stanley speak but he was one of the first ones I heard sing in the worship service of the church. His voice was distinct. The muscles needed to force air from his lungs over his vocal cords were apparently not strong enough to create a normal tone. The sound that came out of his mouth was a high pitched “err.” To those of us who knew Stanley, his voice was not distracting. But to other people, especially children or teenagers who did not know him, his singing sometimes drew their laughing scorn.

Even though Stanley was in his twenties, he continued to sing in the youth choir. I often sat beside him and tried to be his friend, partly out of the guilt I felt for those times I had laughed at him when I was a child. When I became old enough to drive, I went to his home occasionally and played dominoes with him, his favorite game. Howard, his younger brother, often joined us. Howard, unlike Stanley, talked all the time. He usually cracked the jokes. Girls seemed to be his favorite topic. Stanley, the straight man, usually did the laughing. What I discovered sitting around the kitchen table with these men was that both of them had a wonderful sense of humor. They loved to laugh. They loved life.

Last year I visited the pastor of my teenage years, Rev. Tim Calloway. We sat in his living room watching video tapes of youth and adult valentine banquets we put together during those years — over twenty years ago. We usually did our own entertainment, made up of skits, humor, and songs.

Tim showed me a tape of Stanley and me performing a clown skit together. There was Stanley, dressed in a clown costume his mother had altered for him so it would fit around him in his wheelchair. I had applied the white face makeup around his brown beard. He had a big red foam nose and his head was topped off with a red stringy wig. I was dressed as an August clown and pushed Stanley into the room in his wheelchair.

In each skit we did, the joke was on me, the August clown. Stanley, the white-face clown, was the instigator of mischief. The skits were not polished or professional but people laughed anyway. They enjoyed laughing with Stanley as Stanley laughed at the jokes he pulled on me. He loved the attention and he loved being able to make someone else laugh. This time, the laughter was bearable. People were laughing with him and not at his disabilities.

Ecclesiastes 3:4 says there is “a time to laugh.” This implies that there is als





o a time not to laugh. We must use good judgement when we laugh so that the humor we acknowledge is always good humor, acceptable in the eyes of God.

It’s a rare thing to have an opportunity to make right the wrongs you commit against someone. However, the clown routine with Stanley helped bring my experience him full circle. I had once laughed at him, a laughter that was full of sin, a laughter that was demeaning and unholy. On that evening, Stanley and I became a team of clowns who helped others laugh with us and at our crazy looks and antics. This was laughter full of redemption and grace.

This was laughter that pleased God.



The Rev. Michael Helms is pastor of Trinity Baptist Church in Moultrie.



For April 5



What about me?

“I live three miles from the new Ellenton clinic. Will I be able to use it? Probably not.”



Who’s in control?

“I can appreciate Miss Kelso’s comments on cloning. If it can be controlled for fighting disease, that’s good. But who will control it? If it can help a person medically, I’ll agree with it.”



Poor judgment

“Why did the school administration allow the trip that only involved a part of the fifth grade class? Would they allow a teacher to present new math skills to only a portion of the class? Someone used very poor judgment.”



A rebuttal

“How many unwanted children has Mr. Maxwell adopted or how much money has he donated to feed, clothe and house the many unwanted babies born to mothers who could not bring themselves to have an abortion.

“Is it better to die in the womb or to die in poverty? Additionally, since you do not know my identity, you have made some erroneous conclusions about my character based on my position. Those who support abortions have as much regard for human life as do you.”



Need soap?

“If the parents need to supply soap in the girls and boys bathroom at Norman Park Elementary, please send a note home. Water alone does not kill germs.”



Good idea

“Hurrah for President Bush on planning to cut the farmworkers program. If they are going to come here and work, they should pay their way.”



High gas prices

“Have you noticed the gas prices are going up parallel to the fighting in the Mideast. They say we are fighting terrorism in Afghanistan, we had better start fighting it in the Middle East.”



I’ve heard enough

“I’ve heard enough about this whining about the field trip. From what I understand is that some students saved their money and went and some didn’t. Plain and simple. Let it go.”



Not babysitters

“I was a substitute teacher when the kids went on the Georgia Studies Tour and for the person who thought we were just babysitting, you are wrong. We had lesson plans. Those kids did their regular work that week. I’m sorry you had the idea that we were just babysitting.”



Amen to Fred

“Amen to Fred Maxwell’s letter on abortion. I agree 100 percent with his thought. I agree it’s a sin. One day we all will stand before our maker. God help those who think it’s okay to murder little babies.”