Seeing More Than Meets The Eye

Despite having been there thousands of times, I was still sobered by what I saw. Of far greater significance, however, was what was hidden from the eye.

Our daughter Jenny lived at the Conway Human Development Center for the 19 years before her death in October 1995. I've only been back a handful of times since then, and each return is a bit painful. The latest trip to sing Christmas carols to the clients was no exception; memories of what used to be don't quickly fade.

To be honest, there's little in the way of physical beauty at CHDC. Instead, we see the permanent scars of physical deformity and mental incapacity. We might be revolted by the ravages that others' bodies and minds have suffered and the "ugliness" that remains. We are inclined to express pity in the same breath that we thank God that neither our beautiful children nor we are in such a plight.

It's unfortunate that we are often too quick to measure the worth of others by the yardstick of outward appearance. How they look or what they wear or what they do (or can't do) leads to hasty impressions. But we must remember this: there's more to a person than meets the eye.

I've seen some remarkable individuals at CHDC. They work with the clients and have the unusual ability to look beneath the outward shell and see the person on the inside. They are somehow able to innately sense the clients' joys and pains and needs and anxieties that cannot find their way to outward expression. And they are able to respond with tenderness and compassion.

As we made our rounds singing carols, my mind's eye saw many who were that way with Jenny. Though I'm slowly losing their names and faces, their actions have left indelible marks.

And I recall another special group as well. In spite of the difficulties and discouragements of their jobs, we could always count on them for an encouraging word. They could see our hidden hurts and reached out to us. We looked forward to seeing them and counted them as friends.

We spend a lot of time primping and preening to put our outward appearance in the best light. We would probably be better served to take a closer look at who we are on the inside... where the eye cannot see. Would we find the tenderness and compassion required to make a positive impact on others, regardless of their looks?

Go to CHDC or a nursing home or some similar facility and you will encounter those who might not have too much outward "prettiness." But you have to look deeper than that to see the real person. I'm thankful that there are still those who can look past the outer devastations and see inner beauty. They are my heroes.

Copyright 2000 James McAlister

Printer friendly version

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Parallel Tracks Of Good And Bad

The late Ron Dunn, a preacher whom I highly esteem, coined a truism I frequently lean upon: Good and bad run along parallel tracks and often arrive about the same time. Though some had warned us, nothing could have prepared us for our first visit to the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. From children to the aged, the outward devastation of pernicious disease on frail human bodies overloaded our senses. They are courageous souls in hand-to-hand combat with a vicious enemy of seemingly inexhaustible tenacity. But they press on. To cover the almost-inevitable baldness that cancer treatment wreaks, many select colorful head scarves or stylish wigs as banners for their individual battles. Calling cancer a bad thing is a gross and trivial understatement. But even amid their roiling seas of trouble, good persists in bobbing to the surface as cancer patients openly discuss both defeats and victories. Without a hint of bitterness, Mr. Boudreaux relates the loss of a leg and other traumati...
Read more

Learning With Ollie In The School Of Basics

Oliver Wickerham Gatchell wouldn't have stood for it. Nope. He was just too practical. As I saw him do many times, he would have risen up and demanded an accounting. I first encountered him in 1963. I was a college freshman, and he was a crusty, white-headed old engineer teaching the most basic entry-level course. Whispers from the older students warned us: Ollie Gatchell would strike fear in our hearts. And so he did, making that initial engineering course a baptism by fire. On the first day of class, he didn't bother introducing himself. Instead, he instantly solidified his reputation with a challenge: "OK, you prospective engineers. Let's see who can figure out how to get the lead into his pencil." Nobody could. Those mechanical pencils were easily fumbled, but we did learn how to use them--thanks to the demanding Ollie Gatchell. Knowing the necessity of discipline and order in engineering work, he despised inefficiency and imprecision. One class period found u...
Read more