Yesterday I paused outside the deli in my office building to let pass a rather
harried looking mother pushing a stroller, loaded with a variety of shoulder
bags and a small girl.
My mind was elsewhere and I never actually saw what caused it, but halfway
through this narrow doorway a wheel of the stroller caught on the threshold and
tipped the entire load forward. Caught off balance and a little pre-occupied
herself, this young lady lost her grip and the stroller pitched forward,
spilling the contents of several bags and one very frightened brown haired
child.
Instinct took over and as any father would do, my first reaction was to lift
this baby to my shoulder, pat her on the back and console her. I couldn't get
over how light she was or how strange it was that she didn't look around for
her mother. She just cried and stared directly at the wall and never turned her
head in any direction.
Despite her small stature, Angelica, as I would later learn her name was,
nearly choked me with her grip, as she frantically held onto my shirt and neck.
Never responding to my voice as my daughter had, Angelica pressed her face into
my hands as I stroked her hair and wiped the tears from her wide green eyes.
It only took a second or two for her mother to free the stroller from the
doorway and race to my side, but Angelica would not let go of my shoulder and
hand so I told her mother to go ahead and get her things together while I held
the baby.
I had resumed my attempt at calming the baby when her mother turned and
said, "She can only hear you if you put her ear to your chest; she's also deaf."
Also?
I turned my head to stare into this beautiful little girl's eyes, and saw . . .
nothing . . . no response . . . no reaction. This frail, frightened child was
blind and deaf. Her only window to the world was through touch.
I stroked her cheek and was given a hopeful smile through her tears, I tickled
her under the chin, she giggled and placed her head on my shoulder and sighed.
My heart was broken, as I could only think of my own two and a-half-year old
daughter, Christina. I thought of how often she fell asleep to my wife and me
singing to her, or how often I would catch her looking out of the corner of her eye at
me and laughing when I would wink or make a face. Would this little one ever know the joy and love in her home if she couldn't see or hear it?
Could I show her how much she means in my life just by touch alone? How often
had I said "I love you, Good night" without a hug or a kiss?
We all know how important touching can be, we all know the peace that settles into your heart after a warm hug. But could any of us convey complex emotions like sadness,
joy, sympathy or love through touch alone?
Did this little girl know that I was a stranger, someone she had never been
near before? Did she even have a concept of different people at all? Could she
tell her mother apart from any other woman?
And then all these questions were answered in one quick second. Her mother took her from me and nuzzled her neck and hugged her.
The look on that child's face answered all, and then some. Of course she could.
I took my seat and tried my best not to cry in the hallway of my office. I pray
that this mother can somehow get through to her little girl over the only
bridge available, and I pray that I will never have to try.
I do know one thing though ~ I'm going home tonight and practice.
~Author Unknown
sent to me by Betty Jo Mings
