Every year on Christmas Eve, we take a group of our students to Hong Chi PineHill Special School to organize a Christmas Party for the children there. Their disabilities run from mild to severe. Some can talk, function normally and even attend school; they are just slower than normal. Some cannot even sit up straight, nor communicate. We played games with them, sang with them, and danced with them. We all had fun.
There is a girl L that we have known since 2003, when our family visited Hong Chi. She was about pre-school age then, with a pretty face and easy smile. But she could not talk. What I remembered most vividly was that her hands were always wound very tightly in a fist, probably because of some disorder with her muscles. We felt it must be uncomfortable, so we massaged her hands, and after a couple of minutes, her hands would start to relax and open. And she would smile. It was their dinner time, so we stayed and helped to feed the kids. It was there where our girls, still in primary school then, learned to serve.
Yesterday, we saw L again. She sat in a specially designed wheel chair. She still could not talk. Her hands remained in tight fists. We massaged her hands again; and her hands relaxed. And she would smile. I think she recognized me, but I am not too sure. It was as if nine years had not passed, except that she has grown a little bigger. She was clean, and looked healthy (other than her handicaps). Hong Chi has taken good care of her. But what can she look forward to in life? What can we, as a society, do for her? It takes a lot of resources, time, and love to take care of her and others like her. But if we don’t, what kind of human beings are we?
Every year on Christmas Eve, we take a group of our students to Hong Chi PineHill Special School to organize a Christmas Party for the children there. Their disabilities run from mild to severe. Some can talk, function normally and even attend school; they are just slower than normal. Some cannot even sit up straight, nor communicate. We played games with them, sang with them, and danced with them. We all had fun. 
There is a girl L that we have known since 2003, when our family visited Hong Chi. She was about pre-school age then, with a pretty face and easy smile. But she could not talk. What I remembered most vividly was that her hands were always wound very tightly in a fist, probably because of some disorder with her muscles. We felt it must be uncomfortable, so we massaged her hands, and after a couple of minutes, her hands would start to relax and open. And she would smile. It was their dinner time, so we stayed and helped to feed the kids. It was there where our girls, still in primary school then, learned to serve. 
Yesterday, we saw L again. She sat in a specially designed wheel chair. She still could not talk. Her hands remained in tight fists. We massaged her hands again; and her hands relaxed. And she would smile. I think she recognized me, but I am not too sure. It was as if nine years had not passed, except that she has grown a little bigger. She was clean, and looked healthy (other than her handicaps). Hong Chi has taken good care of her. But what can she look forward to in life? What can we, as a society, do for her? It takes a lot of resources, time, and love to take care of her and others like her. But if we don’t, what kind of human beings are we? 
No comments:
Post a Comment