A glimpse of beauty

Today, I witnessed beauty in a most unexpected way. What started as a routine appointment with my sons' cranial-facial surgeon transformed into a moving experience involving a young man I'll call Juan. (I do know his actual name but do not feel I should divulge it publicly.)

I had all three boys with me and we took over the waiting room as we are apt to do. Just the size of the stroller alone tends to dominate typically small waiting rooms of specialists like this surgeon's. We found ourselves crammed into a corner only inches away from a young man who was obviously there as a patient. I say obviously because his outward appearance was grossly misshapen. His most striking feature was that one of his eyes appeared to always be open very wide and he had various scars and irregularities throughout his face. As much as I hate to admit it, he was very difficult to look at without succumbing to the urge to look away. It was heartbreaking.

As we got situated - toys distributed, snacks obtained - we settled in to wait for our turn. The room was full of other patients but I was drawn to this young man and could not help but read his body language which was detached and withdrawn. He quietly sat eating a snack. My oldest was busy exploring the room for a while and then he saw him. I could tell Neil didn't understand what he was seeing - he's only 2.5 years old after all. I watched him look over several times and stare. I'm in the habit of suggesting Neil say hello to other children in the hopes that he learns to feel comfortable talking with other children. I suggested he say hello because I wanted him to understand that this little boy was just another person and that we should talk with him rather than stare. The boy quietly said hello back. His expression indicated that he was surprised that we said hello.

Toys were picked up from the floor and handed back to fussing babies, more snacks were dug out of my bag and the boy began to uncurl from his chair and become interested in the twins who were closest to him. The twins giggled and squealed to him just as they would anyone else and I think that made him comfortable. I made comments to him about the twins and began to talk with him casually and he relaxed more and more.

As I was talking with him, I tried to figure out where his mom or dad were. No one seemed to participate in our conversation. People who were sitting next to him were called into appointments and then I'd realize that they weren't with him. The room began to empty and eventually there was only him, my children and a young woman who had been talking on a cell phone across the room. She came to sit next to him but didn't talk with him. She continued to do whatever she was doing in her controlled, professional manner. Was this his mom? I tried to involve her in our increasingly more dynamic conversation but she only smiled mildly and seemed disinterested. I didn't push it.

Meanwhile, I found out his name - he showed me his hospital bracelet and I introduced him to my boys. Juan had clearly become taken with Evan, one of the twins. Juan seemed delighted by Evan's spastic, squealing fits and was very warm toward him. He began to ask questions such as whether he could crawl and such. I got Evan out of the stroller and placed him on the floor. Juan offered to watch him for me. He got down in the floor with him and kept his hands close to him to keep him from falling. He asked me if Evan liked toys. I said yes so he reached in his little bag and pulled out a gingerbread man from some fast food restaurant and handed it to Evan.

Ok, my mom instincts wanted to rush over and clean the toy before Evan put it in his mouth but I couldn't do it. The germ nut in me didn't want to expose my baby to germs from a child who has been in the hospital and who has been exposed himself to no telling what but I stopped myself. This darling little child wanted to share something with my baby and there was so much love in this action that I couldn't possibly trample on his desire to hand him the toy. Evan immediately put it in his mouth. Of course. I apologized and the boy said it was no big deal - he would wash it off later. He shrugged it off and sat smiling as he watched Evan play with his toy.

The nurse finally called our name. Of course, every one of my boys was out of the stroller by now and it took ages to get everyone strapped in and the bags repacked in order for us to leave. In the midst of the chaotic shuffle, Evan accidentally fell over on his back. He was fine - just the typical spill any child takes on a normal day. As I started to bend over to get him, Juan gets down and cradles Evan so gently, slowly lifting him up to me. He did it with such tenderness that I was almost moved to tears. This horribly deformed child had a beauty in him that few would ever stop to see.

We said our goodbyes and I wished him luck on his upcoming surgery and we left. I was still thinking of him and mentioned him to the nurse. I found out why his "mom" didn't seem very interested in him. She was his case worker. The nurse explained in a more candid moment than I've seen in a while in the medical field (thanks to the ridiculously rigid rules of HIPPA) she explained to me how he travelled very far to see this doctor, that he had no mama in his life and that he had a very sad story which she didn't divulge and I was afraid to hear. She then commented on how sweet a boy he was and how everyone in the office cared about him. I was humbled by this little boy's story and was moved by his tenderness toward my baby despite how hard the world had been for him.

The doctor was going to perform surgery on his eye tomorrow and, although I'm not a Christian or part of any other organized religion, I will pray to the heavens to bless this sweet child.

If you found this post inspiring and would like to help children like Juan, visit the World Cranialfacial Foundation at http://www.worldcf.org/. Juan's surgeon is affiliated with this organization so it's possible that he may be receiving assistance from this foundation for his care.