>> Tuesday, January 21, 2014
There it was…in black and white…a name I knew. I stared at the newspaper page. So many years…26. And now he was free. My mind flew back 25 years and I could see that little boy, crawling among our legs as the church choir practiced.
Then the tragedy. He was found floating in the pool.
Drastic measures were taken. Machines had been used. Prayer groups met around the clock. Tears were shed. Such a darling little boy. I visited the hospital. His grandma and I became friends as we worked his little arms and legs to prevent stiffening.
Weaned from the machines, he was discharged to go home. But everything was different now. He couldn’t play with his toys…couldn’t make messes…would never ride a bike or attend school.
He lay in his bed.
Teams of people signed up to help the family. Some brought meals. Others took their turn at moving his little limbs…keeping them limber. My heart broke each time it was my turn…eventually causing me to volunteer in a different way. I could do their ironing. Their home was a scene of constant people in and out.
He still lay there.
Now he’s free…running and laughing. My emotions are mixed…sad and glad.
As he lay there, he taught me so many lessons. Limited as his life was, it served a purpose. And for those of us who arise each morning with our faculties intact, much more is expected.