I recently was in Israel, touring with a group of friends. During our trip, we volunteered to do maintenance work at home for disabled children, run by the St. Vincent de Paul. I wrote this in my journal during the long flight homeward...
...And there is always one I want to bring home. This trip, it was a girl, 23 like myself, but helpless. So fragile. She lay there in her crib (yes, crib,) peacefully - her face turned away from me, but her eyes alight and soaking in everything around. So small, she was. So tiny. The nurse gave her a gentle massage through her hair as she talked about the young woman's daily life; her struggles, her victories, her joys. The group began to move away. I moved in. Hello, I said softly, reaching my fingertips to her hair so she would know who was addressing her now. My name is Katie. I'm 23, too. She smiled... seemingly weakly, and yet with great strength. You have a beautiful smile, I continued, smoothing her locks.
Heartbreaking. How should I be describing this scene? I can only think of 'heartbreaking'; not because of how I saw her so much as for how I saw myself. Here we are; two women of the same age with a vastly different life-experience. I saw before me in my mind many blessings I have had for all my life, but forgotten they were, forgranted, unthanked-for. Lost amongst the me, myself and the I-want, I-deserve...
And so content she was. It's funny looking back... I wonder if that young lady even understood my English as she smiled in response? Even if she didn't, I know we understood each other in a different way.
1 comment:
God works in wonderous ways and no doubt your life experience enabled you to connect deeply with her leaving His footprint on her heart!
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