That is what we called them, in those days, these special people, before Downe's syndrome came in. My sister's youngest child was one of these. Her I.Q. was measured at around 50. Every effort was made to expand her world. She played a violin, wrote letters in cursive.
But her faith was her most remarkable quality. When she was little and Christmas approached, she asked her mother for a toy car to take to Sunday school. They were going to make a crash, she said. My sister looked into it and found they were making something, but it was a creche, a manger scene.
One night a terrible storm rose up. Lightning and thunder woke every one. My sister went to her room, afraid the storm had made her afraid. She found her standing in her bed, arms out stretched. "Be still," she said,"be still." She was emulating Jesus as he calmed the sea of Galilee.
Someone gave me a beautiful picture of the marriage supper of the Lamb. A table, still unoccupied, set with shining plates and dishes. "What we drink?" she asked earnestly. What should I have said to her? I told her "Royal Crown cola." "Oh," she said, she was satisfied.
She is in a retirement home now, along with her father. My sister's girl called her to see how she was. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Reading my Bible," she replied. "Romans, chapter twelve."
Geniuses stride the earth and do not believe in God. But this little girl, grown old, has the Faith.