are cared for,
she changes diapers, bathes and feeds
half a dozen severely disabled,
mostly non-verbal adults.
"I love them," she says, sincerely.
"People think there is no one in there.
For 30 or 40 years their bodies
have been well cared for, but efficiently.
But what about the luxury of choice?
what they might wish for?
what they might be thinking?
"I give them choices.
The others think this takes longer,
makes more work.
They grumble it's a waste of time.
But choice makes a difference to them,
even in such small things as
would you rather wear this, or that?
Would you rather sit in your chair, or on the couch?
They are learning to say No.
Now we're working on Yes!
"They trust me. They know I see them.
I sat beside one man's bed one night,
with no one else around.
I made him look at me, eyeball to eyeball,
and I said to him,
"I see you. I truly see you. And you are beautiful."
And a single tear trickled down his cheek."
Grace. It is what makes us all
for my daughter, Lisa, who works in a home for severely disabled adults, who sees and advocates for the persons inside those broken bodies, who brings them laughter, and choice, and respect, and who has gained their trust and adoration.
for Karin's prompt at Real Toads: Grace. A quality I greatly admire in human beings.