Every morning outside Mabel Rush Elementary School in Newberg, Oregon, kids hustle toward the crosswalk with their backpacks bouncing, and smiles blooming. That’s because greeting them at the crosswalk is someone who’s become much more than just a safety monitor. He’s become a symbol of joy, community, and heart.
This is 27-year-old Nicholas Morrow.
Nicholas was diagnosed with cerebral palsy and cortical vision impairment when he was just six months old. He can’t speak or see, but that doesn’t stop him from shining. In fact, those closest to him say it’s his spirit that communicates the most.
“If he’s uncomfortable, if he’s happy, he’s very expressive,” said his mom, Rachel Morrow. “So that’s how we communicate.”
And it’s that spirit that’s turned his role as a crossing guard into something truly special.
Every school day, yes, even in Oregon’s wind, rain, or snow, Nicholas and his caretaker Sonya Sanchez show up wearing matching neon traffic vests. Sonya pushes Nicholas in his wheelchair across the intersection with their signature flag in hand, making sure everyone gets to class safely.
“Their little faces show, just the way they look, they’re curious about not only him, but me too,” said Sanchez. “What it is we do and possibly why we do it. And so I let them know.”
It doesn’t take long for students and parents to recognize the love in what they do. People often wave and honk, and some even pause just to soak in the moment.
“I think it’s honestly the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Anna Johnstone, a parent at the school. “Everybody’s always so welcoming and it’s just so heartwarming to watch.”
Another parent, Julie Donovan, said the consistency and care Nicholas brings, even on tough-weather days, is inspiring.
“Every day. Rain or shine,” Donovan said. “There’s some days I don’t want to be out here walking little miss to school, but it’s definitely great to have them both out here. He’s just like been ingrained in this community, in this Mabel Rush School District.”
That kind of connection was exactly what his family hoped for.
“My husband and I are not going to be here forever,” said Rachel Morrow. “The community will be, and I want to make sure that he’s taken care of for his life, for the rest of his life.”
Nicholas may not say much, but the way he shows up for his community says everything.
And in the quiet rhythm of morning traffic and tiny footsteps, his presence is a reminder that things like joy and purpose can be found in the simplest moments, one crosswalk at a time.
