The Best Day Ever!

I see the twins every morning I work at the high school. The only way I can tell them apart is by looking at their shoes, one green, one red. I thought that was the only difference. They are twins after all. I was wrong.

One twin looks in directions where others do not look, and I am jealous of what he “sees”. I ask a question and there is no feedback that the question was heard. I wait… because my directions for the day state that patience is needed. Maybe seconds, maybe minutes later, the answer is spoken. Unique staring angles and inward “seeing” continue, but the answer is correct.

The other twin is in English and needs to speak for a minute on the situation in Ferguson, MO. Directions are being given by the teacher and I have no idea if they are registering. When it is his time to speak, I am dumb-founded by how eloquent, coherent, and advanced his presentation is. I sit in awe as the four other students in his group give him positive feedback. He prefers not to return their gaze, but he is clearly engaged. I can not say why, but I feel a huge sense of pride in watching this young man speak.

Fifth hour and it is time for music therapy for the kids with high needs. I am ashamed to admit it, but I always feel nervous to walk into this room. Some of the needs and procedures and things these kids need make me uncomfortable. This is my problem, and yet, they always welcome me with smiling eyes and open hearts. Everyone is in a semi-circle, and I sit down between Celia and Jenny. I am in a chair and they are in wheelchairs. I will eventually rise, but they will always remain. As I sit down, I have a momentary thought of how unfair the world can be.

As I sit down, Celia turns her head to me and reaches out her small, misshapen hand and touches my left arm. She smiles. She continues to touch my arm, my shoulder, my face with fingers that will never completely straighten… and she smiles. She looks directly into my eyes and she smiles. I will never overcome obstacles like this girl overcomes on a daily basis, and yet some days I find it hard to smile.

And to my right, there is Jenny. And she is happy. Her face is radiant and soft. Today is a good day.

I have never been one to sing. I don’t even really like to hear myself talk. But today is different. We are singing Christmas songs about sleigh bells and Frosty and cheer. There is a mood and I am caught up. I start to sing, softly at first and then more loudly, without much care. What is happening? This is not right…

The moment I begin to sing, Jenny turns her head towards mine and there is a smile, a smile I could never capture in words, upon her face. She is watching my lips and laughing out loud. She is sitting upright in her chair and her arms are moving to accentuate her happiness. Maybe I am wrong, and Jenny is laughing at how badly I sing. I really don’t care. My singing makes Jenny smile. And I never want to stop. I never want that smile to fade. I never want other aspects of life to take away this joy. I never want to lose this feeling, this freedom, this happiness.

The bell rings. Class is over. The day ends. Thank you for this day.

Jenny, the Beautiful…

Her eyes will never focus directly upon my own and her spine will never straighten enough to allow her to move without her wheelchair. I do not always understand the limited words she speaks out loud and I will never understand all the thoughts that flow through her mind at any given moment. I only understand that she is beautiful, a kind of beautiful I can only hope to achieve.

Her spine that has grown, in ways that mine has not, will never fully support the diminutive weight of her lithe figure. Our mental capacities will probably never equal. She may never be able to play the tambourine or run across a field. She will never be able to do many of the things that other children certainly desire. But, she can smile. And she can laugh. And she knows what it means to be happy.

When I sit next to Jenny or I see her in the hall and she looks at me as only she can, a smile upon her face, with no other origin than pure happiness, only then do I know why I am alive. I am alive because she is alive. I am alive to be a friend, a teacher, a helper, a student… and she is alive to do the same.

Thank you, Jenny.