We sit on the floor of the sunny, colorful little
room, each of us holding a specially-formed child in our laps, introducing
them, some for the very first time, to the beautiful sound of music. Because these precious children are blind, they
are especially enjoying the rhythms of the songs, the tactile sensations of the
drums and shakers, and the physical movements of the motions. Some spontaneously try dancing to the tempo –
awkwardly and yet completely uninhibited.
Some, like my foster child sitting on my own lap, are hesitant and
fearful, reluctant to participate in this unfamiliar environment. And one little girl across the circle from us
just smiles and rocks back and forth the entire time, her ears savoring every delicious
beat.
I can’t help but notice the little girl sitting
next to me, the one with the disfigured face, whose deformed hands can barely
grasp the musical instruments, and whose head is wrapped in unsightly bandages
– either from a recent surgery or from a misshapen head. It’s hard not to stare.
Suddenly, my 15-year old daughter, who is
attending the musical event with me, interrupts my thoughts. Leaning over, she whispers into my ear, “Do
you see that girl over there?” She
discreetly glances over to the same one I had just been noticing. Uh oh,
I hope she doesn’t say anything too loud or embarrassing, I think to myself.
To my utter astonishment, she continues with pure sincerity, “She is so adorable!”
