Below is my unforwarded email to the community after our visit to the Center for Disabled Children at Pakkred, Nonthaburi.

From my own point of view….

I walked in those two “halls” with a heavy heart. I was already informed that the place is for the disabled children but at least I expected them all to be in a shape good enough to run around and seize the day with joyous cheers. But the site that met me was enough to crush my heart into shards I’d forever spend my life picking up the pieces. I had to weep silently. Reality was staring at me right in the face. The site of those severely disabled babies all jam-packed in one room was too much for the taking.

Much as I wanted to leave the place in a jiffy, I knew I had to stay to make it look normal for the kids to have new people around. So, I braved one more room - each rung spelling a dreadful step.

I was told that the cases on the second floor were less likely than the one on the ground. True enough, they have less severe cases. Still, how could you be consoled with the “better status” label when you see a baby whose life, as you know, is already marked by the abnormality he’ll carry all throughout his existence? It makes you wish that they hadn’t been better afterall.

I sift through the babies’ appearance and try to look beyond for a story. All I see are innocent faces staring back at me – who look even more sorry for me seeing them that way. I try to search within for enlightenment. And got even more depressed in the realization that they are forever doomed in that situation.

I must admit that there was a hefty lump of hatred I harbored in seeing those small and helpless angels burdened with the abnormalities. Where was love and compassion in molding those lovely creatures?

But then again, Kuya Bob, was right in his reflection that those angels are mere instruments for us to realize how blessed are we to have the “complete faculties and senses” (lifted from Kuya Pats) to live a decent and comfortable life. That our life in retrospect is just a mere journey towards a better and far grander life shaped according to the works of the “One holding the greatest power”. And that I have no right at all to question His will for He alone knows the wisdom that underlies such difficulties.

Ah. Such pondering it could make. I could even recount a thousand tiny moments out of that walk. I don’t know how else were you touched by those lives. For me, I’d forever be reminded by the face of that lovely angel near the door who generously offers a big grin to everyone who walks in. Or that next angel who struggled to rise up on his knees to acknowledge my presence – wobbly legs and all. Or that other angel who delights in merely touching our faces albeit totally oblivious of the tummy of his “cribmate” underneath his knees.

Beautiful.

Dear God, your beauty is something far beyond my imagination. I may never come to understand your truth in this lifetime. But at least make me an instrument to protect your people.