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The new young pastor of Lake Bluff Christian Church had seen the man on the streets of the town frequently. In the first busy weeks of his new pastorate, he hadn't taken the time to inquire about him. But when he discovered that the man sat quietly on the steps outside the church every Sunday, listening, he was determined to find out about him.

"Oh, that's Rocky Dumar," the secretary replied when he inquired on Monday morning. "His mother is a member, but she hasn't come to church for many years. She's a shut-in now. Rocky just likes to listen to the music."

"But why doesn't he come inside?" the pastor asked.

"I don't know. I've been here for ten years and I've never seen him 'in' a worship service. Why don't you ask him?"

The next Sunday, as he took his place at the rear of the sanctuary, waiting to process behind the choir, the pastor peeked out the door. There, on the top step, sat Rocky Dumar.

"Good morning, Rocky," the pastor said. There was no surprise on the round face that turned toward him, just a smile. His narrow blue eyes and slightly protruding tongue indicated Down's Syndrome.

"Good morning," Rocky answered softly.

"Why don't you come inside and join us for the service?"

He shook his head. "I can't come in. I'm not baptized."

Although the pastor was surprised and puzzled by Rocky's response, the opening chords of the processional hymn signaled an end to their conversation for the moment. "Well, you're welcome to come in any time, Rocky. I'm glad you're here," the pastor said, and turned to enter the service.

It was more than a week before the busy work of settling in allowed the pastor to pursue the puzzle of Rocky Dumar's reluctance to enter the church.

"That's an old, long story," the chair of the parish board said when she was questioned on the subject. "When Rocky was about twelve or thirteen his mother wanted him to be baptized and confirmed, like the other youngsters. There were a lot of strange ideas back then about retarded people. His parents hadn't even tried to have Rocky baptized as a baby, but when she saw how well he turned out, and how much he loved the church services, his mother wanted him to become a member. The pastor and the elders back then refused, saying Rocky could attend the class and be baptized, but he wasn't ever going to understand enough to become a member. They wouldn't allow him to come into a position where he could vote and take communion. Of course, back then women couldn't vote, either! Rocky is two or three years older than me, so this was a ways back. My mother would never have dreamed that I would someday be parish board chair! But there are some here who would still hold onto those old ideas in regard to Rocky."

"What about his mother?"

"Oh, she retained her membership, but she and Rocky stopped coming to worship. She's pretty crippled up with arthritis now, and doesn't get out of the house much, but it was protest over Rocky's not being confirmed that made her stay away. She never let him be baptized, either. That must be where he got the idea that that was why he couldn't come into the church anymore. But Rocky always loved the music. He's come almost every Sunday, all these years. He wears his good bib overalls and sits on the steps to listen to the service, even in winter. But after they refused to confirm him, he's never come in."

The young pastor did a lot more visiting with people on the subject of Rocky. Although he was careful to work it in casually in other conversations, so as not to make it a big deal, rumor began to spread that something was up. Those who disapproved made it known in their subtle ways, but he began to form a plan on how to get Rocky Dumar inside the church. The most vital information came from Rocky's mother and Rocky himself. By spring, just before confirmation time, and after a lot of prayer, the pastor knew what to do.

Many of the older members of the church were surprised when Ella Dumar made her way slowly across the front of the sanctuary from the side door on Confirmation Sunday. An usher helped her into the front pew with the confirmation families. And after the confirmation class rose to stand before the congregation, the pastor looked expectantly toward the rear of the sanctuary and said, "Okay, Rocky, you can come in now."

Rocky Dumar walked down the center aisle of the sanctuary in his good bib overalls, his baseball cap in his hands. He took his place in the confirmation line, his grey hair and size sharply contrasting with the rest of the class. The pastor proceeded to question the students on their catechism, and they answered ... some well, and some not so well. Rocky stood quietly, turning his cap in his hands and waiting.

At last the pastor said, "One member of this new group of confirmands is long overdue for this ceremony. Rocky Dumar received his confirmation training in 1941, but he's been brushing up this last couple of weeks with the rest of this class. Rocky needs to be baptized before he's confirmed, and I want to ask him one question before we proceed."

The pastor motioned Rocky forward and turned him to face the congregation. "Rocky Dumar, what does baptism mean?"

Although his speech was thick and a little slow, Rocky's voice was strong and sure when he answered, "Jesus loves the little children. All the children of the world. Jesus loves Rocky Dumar, too."

Then, with his mother's eyes shining on him in pride, Rocky Dumar was baptized and confirmed as a full member of Lake Bluff Christian Church. And all of God's people said, "Amen."