Writing Journal/ Blog ~NurseWriter~

Gesture of a Scar- Word count 861- Make up

My brother has a scar over his eyebrow.  It is worse then it should be, as it was endured for a price. 

The price was to save a little handicapped girl.

It has been awhile since I thought about youthful times in our family. I think I was 10 when my mother volunteered as a Den mother, for a nearby handicap institution. I was to be her assistant.

It was described as, Den mother for boy scouts. We arrived to find a large group of 30 and 40 year old men.  Most of them had Down syndrome.  I remember looking at my mother, wide eyed, as they came running to us.

I think the fact that I was the oldest child, and tough for a girl, I did not shrink behind her skirt.  I clearly remember almost being plowed over by one, as he grabbed me and hugged me hello.  The orderly pulled his arm and I recall telling him, "That’s O.K. sir, he is just happy is all."

No one needed to tell me these men were different, I just knew it and accepted it.  I think this came from my up bringing and Gods acceptance of us all through his word.  All I could see was the love they had, and that was enough for me to love them back.

I realize now what an example my Mother was, of Love and Charity.  You don't find people freely giving up an evening a week to spend it with a group of men that have the brain capacity of boys.  We would do crafts with them, play games, all the things little boy scouts love.

As a child it gave me a feeling of pride to make these poor people happy.  It bothered me to think someone gave them away to an institution.  At that age, I didn't comprehend the care involved and that some people just can't handle what it takes to care for a special needs person.

They were as big as my Dad, some with facial hair and they would come running, "Miss Lorrie, Miss Chris we are so happy to see you!" All I saw, were little boys in big bodies.

The only part I didn't like was the drooling.  Sometimes they would talk so close, or would be so excited it was like having a shower on your face.  We didn't have hand sanitizer in those days, so my Mom would always stop at the bathroom to wash us off.  We would both just smile and I knew we were thinking, "Yuck, but didn't it make them happy!"

We also played a silly little game, sort of like secret agents as we left.  I would stand at the post, the door.  Mom would go to the station wagon and check to see we were free of any boy scouts trying to sneak in the car, to ride home with us.  Once the car was clear, I would walk backwards to the car, like an army man.  Checking all the time that none tried to hide behind me.

Mom would open the door, I'd slam it quick and we would both give a big, "Whew, we made it!" Finishing the night with a laugh and an 'all clear' ride home.

Our days with the boy scouts lasted about a year, before we took in an 8 year old Down syndrome little girl to foster in our family.  Her mother had just died of cancer, her father was in prison, her grandmother too old, and her siblings too young to care for her needs.

Maureen was a special light in our lives.  She came to us infested with lice, in need of open-heart surgery and since her mother’s death, she had pretty much cared for herself getting bread from a drawer to eat.

She was feisty and stubborn on one hand, and then loving like a little baby on the other.  The first day with us she busted my brothers forehead open with a metal Tonka truck.  He didn't tell my parents for fear they would send her back.  My other brothers helped him hid it by scotch taping it and bandaging the wound closed. He still has the scar to remember her by and I would think he wears it with pride.

Maureen lived and loved with us for about four years.  She then was adopted into a home with three other Down syndrome children.  We still check on her to this day.  She is in her 30's now, works as a bagger in a grocery store and is very happy in her family.

I share this as I was thinking of my brother’s scar today.  He took that scar, to save a little girl he knew needed us.  That was a big gesture coming from a little boy that was only 7 at the time. 

Mom and Dad did something right to have produced children that truly cared about people less fortunate then themselves and created kids that were willing to sacrifice for the needs of others.

Some memories are just too good to keep for yourself. 

Share the ones you loved, so someone else can smile along with you. 

Life is better that way.