The moon stands in the presence of the sun, and in so doing … illuminates the night.

My husband and I enjoyed an extraordinary experience while attending the Oregon state meet of the Special Olympics this past July in Corvallis. It invites athletes of all ages with cognitive disability to train, form teams and compete with others of a similar cognitive ability.

It invites us to come, encourage, marvel and stand in the presence of these special athletes’ light.

We sit in the bleachers of the gymnasium. Watching, I try to grasp why this coming together of all of us is significant. I try to imagine what it might be like to move my body through space in a jumbled mental universe. Focus, faith, endless practice, and sheer will of spirit help me perform physical tasks that others find effortless.

There is the adult man, Joe, who uses his customized walker to move across the smooth floor of the gymnasium. His progress is slow. The rules bend just enough to include everyone that tries, but never enough to steal a person’s integrity. With tremendous effort, he reaches the floor exercise mat, leaves his walker and with his coach’s help, walks across the mat to his starting point. Joe’s coach helps him to his knees as Joe unfolds himself onto the mat into a prostrate starting pose. The coach smiles with encouragement and quietly withdraws. Joe performs his entire floor exercise routine close to the mat. Joe’s routine is created for him with the help of his volunteer coach, who is one of many compassionate and talented coaches that work throughout Oregon to support this effort. When Joe assumes his final pose, the audience fills the gymnasium with the sound of honor and appreciation. Joe glows. His coach helps him stand. High fives are given all around.

Sue, a young girl with Down’s Syndrome in a sparkling light blue leotard, has started her routine on the balance beam, arms outstretched, face forward. Her radiant smile straightens. She focuses on the balancing task at hand. She lifts her legs up in kicks, one at a time. There are people walking around the gymnasium and Sue’s mother is in the bleachers; there’s a lot for Sue to watch. She loses her focus, wobbles and jumps off. This happens a couple of times. With her team coach’s help, Sue quickly climbs back on the beam and continues, trying to focus. Sue executes her dismount and gives the audience a wide grin. Her team coach encloses her in a warm hug.

Outside on the track competitors line up for the quarter mile relay. The area is filled with orange t-shirted volunteers of all ages performing various tasks. The starting gun sounds. Some competitors walk, some shuffle a leg, some slowly run. Wow! What a sight as the last hand-off is achieved. The athletes’ faces are filled with effort and joy. Everyone wins in different ways, the athletes, the volunteers and the audience.

It’s all relative. We each are champions in our own way. The full-time working parent who strives to best nurture his children, the rancher who works the land her family passed down through generations of hard work and commitment, the worker in the understaffed office who stretches to fill in the empty spaces, the neighbor that struggles to stay in their beloved hometown, though the economic landscape is shifting.

Our world and community are filled with stories that lift us up.

It feels good to be surrounded by the grace of the human spirit, and to be a member of this broad club that we call humanity.

Editor’s Note – Tracy Suzanne Minnich is a writer living in Enterprise. First Person is an occasional column, written by community members. If you have a story you would like to share, type it up in 450 to 600 words and send it to the Chieftain, attn: First Person.