The Kingdom of Heaven is in You

One of the pillars that missioners follow is that of accompaniment. We walk alongside others, being present, empowering them on their life’s journey. To be absolutely honest, I had no idea what that looked like when I signed up as a missioner, but in giving my yes to Jesus, I promised to open my heart. Then, he led me to Bethlehem.

Now, I ask you, how can one possibly accompany someone who has little to no physical ability, cannot speak, and most likely has a cognitive impairment? He or she spends the entirety of their life in a small crib in a single room. That is how a majority of the fifty or so children at Bethlehem Home live. In the early days of my visits, I participated in practical ways, with feeding the children or making their beds. I might hold their hand and pray a Hail Mary for them, but to be honest, I was really scared that even the smallest effort to move them would cause them pain. So for the first few months, I was cautious. I observed how my friend Joleen, the MOP brothers, and the nurses worked with the children. That helped me feel more relaxed, but it was the children themselves that taught me how to love them. Let me share with you a few stories of my visits with these children.

Cavena is an older resident. She has very little ability to move any part of her body, but her face is very expressive, and it is through those expressions that she communicates. Her bed is very near the television, which is on for most of the day. She seems to enjoy watching the children’s shows or religious music videos, so when I stand in her way you can see her trying to look around me. She laughs when I act insulted that she would rather watch tv than look at me. I sit next to her, holding her hand and maybe petting her head or back. I can tell she likes it by her peaceful expression. Sometimes I chat with her, and occasionally she offers me a vocal “grunt” as perhaps a way of approval. One of the things she really loves is when I bring one of the smaller children near her and tell them that we are going to play together. I spin in a chair with the smaller child and Cavena just laughs. Oh what joy!

Afterwards, I go to visit with Tresan, who is bedridden but has a little ability to move her arms and legs. She doesn’t speak, and she has cognitive impairment, but this day, I heard a small hum from her when I was singing a church song. I was told she wasn’t feeling well, and I could see it in her eyes. So I gently stroked her face and prayed with her. I said how much I missed her smile today, but maybe on my next visit it will be back again. I said a prayer with her and told Tresan how much I loved her, then just started stroking her cheeks gently. We were just gazing into each other’s eyes, when I noticed an ever so small smile appear. I started to tease her that I saw it and she can’t take it back. The smile slowly grew. A moment later she put her hands together and clapped. I joined her, making up a clapping song along the way. Tresan made a musical offering with a small grunt, and now we were a duet! As she tired, I kissed her forehead and wished her a good rest.

I recently started spending time in the boys dorm when Kejohn caught my eye. He had been motioning his arms and squealing, so I accepted his invitation and pulled up a chair next to his bed. He is an adolescent who probably has cerebral palsy. He is unable to talk but has a brilliant laugh and smile. I said, “Hello, my name is Susan and it is really nice to see you today Kejohn!” He gurgled with delight, and I told him that I loved his smile. I asked if we could pray together, then took his hand to say a “Hail Mary.” Afterwards, I was trying to think of how we could play, so I decided I would see how he reacted to tickling. I took his open palm and delicately teased it with the tips of my fingers and nails. He was overjoyed, laughing and kicking his feet with delight. He offered me his other palm, and then we moved to the bottom of his feet. At one point, Adrian who was in the bed next to us, called out and I was tickling both at once! Then, I wondered what else we could play. There rarely are any toys at Bethlehem though occasional donations are brought in, but they don’t seem to last long. As I was looking around, I saw a small t-shirt hanging over Kejohn’s bed rail and that became our “peek-a-boo” blanky. I placed it over his face and pulled it down slowly. The burst of laughter could be heard across the room. We played over and over again, and then to change it up I dangled it over his head and Kejohn seemed to love trying to grab it. Poor Kejohn could not really manipulate his fingers but he put his whole body into reaching for that t-shirt and was relentless in his efforts. Truly I was spent, but so grateful that Kejohn showed me how simple things can be so much fun.

Through these children I am learning what accompaniment looks like. I can’t fix their physical or cognitive disabilities, but I can be present to them, allowing them to show me in their own way what they need, responding in friendship, without judgement, only love. It follows that they too are accompanying me on my life’s journey of seeking God. They love me without judgement. They teach me to find joy in the simple things. Even when they are in pain, we each take comfort in a gentle caress. Through them, I have a richer understanding of what Jesus taught, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 18:3). The Kingdom of Heaven is in these children, and through them, I find that it is also in me.

Question for Reflection: When have you accompanied someone through simple yet meaningful interactions?