Heart to Heart
The children in Indian orphanages are the greatest healers in the world. They perform the most complex psychological feats of healing without ever earning any degrees or attending any seminars. They heal with a power far greater than any drug, operation, or therapy. Their power is the unconditional love of a child channeled through a clear heart and the purity of a brilliant soul.
On the way to an orphanage one bright spring morning, I was told to prepare myself to see the “rejects of society.” Well, I saw the twisted arms and legs, the enlarged deformed heads, and the too-thin, dysfunctional bodies. But no one could have prepared me for the experience of the incredible — light emanating from the eyes and hearts of these children. I felt humbled before these brave souls who had chosen to reincarnate in these pathetic bodies, and in these tougher-than-you-can-imagine circumstances.
They ask for love
These children ask for nothing but your love (I have heard Swami say that is all He wants from us). As their arms reached out to me, I became oblivious to bodies, nationalities, ages, or sexes. I was only aware of the incredible ache in my heart. By evoking the love of the God within me, the children magically opened and healed my heart. They taught me this basic truth: there is only one way to receive unconditional love, first we must give it away so that our hearts become open to receiving it!
The magic garden
My first heart-to-heart encounter was with a small boy who had arrived at the orphanage after my last visit. The extensive scarring on his right side told the silent story that he had already suffered more than many people know in a lifetime. He looked expectantly up at me when I gently patted his back. When I did not pick him up, he threw his small body face down onto his mattress, drew his legs up underneath his tummy, and wrapped his arms around his head. My heart broke at such an obvious act of dejection by such a tiny being. I bent over, scooped up the tiny boy, and lifted him to shoulder height. Together we went to the magic garden and the magic tree.
The magic garden and magic tree are located next to the orphanage. In the garden is a lovely statue of Mary—the mother of Christ, several small rows of plants, and a few footpaths. A large tree overshadows the entrance to the garden, and a small stone bench is located beneath it. I named them the magic garden and magic tree because the children whom we visit were awed by the sights, smells, and sounds; and they found peace and joy just by being there.
Quietly rocking and singing to the sweet bundle in my arms, I prayed to God with all my heart: “Please pour Your love through me to this soul, and cradle him in a cocoon of love so he won’t ever feel dejected or unhappy again. As I prayed and sang, the squirms stopped and I realized how many children just like him had never been held, or rocked, or had songs sung to them. When we returned to his crib, he sat up, stuck his legs through the bars, happily rocking his body to and fro from memories of our visit to the magic garden.
The next visit was more adventuresome. Although the little boy did not talk, he could walk easily. But when I placed him gently on the ground in the magic garden, he became very timid. He stood statuesque, quietly interacting with lights and energies I did not perceive. His hands would grasp, manipulate, and bring the energies to his mouth to taste them, but all the while his feet remained planted in one spot.
After a short while, I took his tiny hand and softly pulled him forward to a row of plants, and he obediently followed. Watching me intently as I patted the leaves, he mimicked my actions. Then sensing the discovery, he took to the experience like a duck to water. Holding one finger of mine, he moved through the rows, fondling the plants like old friends. Finally, a bit weary, he bent over, smoothed the soft dirt at his feet, and laid his cheek down on its warmth.
Whenever we revisited the magic garden in subsequent weeks, he would pull through the garden, letting go of my finger for short periods of time. His unseen friends and energies remained with him; he felt safer, freer, lighter, and with a new sense of inner courage and joy.
The boy who learned to sing
My second encounter was with a teenage boy who had the look of pure peace on his shining face. Radiant is the only word to describe his countenance. Although almost as tall as I, the tiny arms and legs were bent all over, with overlaying rows of teeth, so eating was difficult. The breaths were noisy gasps, and coughs came frequently. Although his lustrous, deep brown eyes lacked the capacity to return my gaze, I could not tear my eyes away from the light of his beautiful face.
At first I was hesitant to pick up the flailing body. The spasms precluded setting him in a wheelchair, so there was simply no alternative. With a silent “Sai Ram,” I supported his head under one arm and his knees under the other and hoisted the young lad up with surprising ease. Off we strolled to the magic garden.
The sweetness of his nature tore my heart wide open. I sang every happy song I could remember. But my throat was tight and my voice choked frequently as incredible depths of compassion and love radiated through me for this teenage boy. While rocking to and fro, I begged God to overwhelm him with love. As the tears flowed down my face, I could sense a washing away of years of pain in my own heart. Because I could not bear the pain of this boy’s life, God’s grace removed the pain of my life. The love flowed in a golden shower from above, and the child grew within my arms. Miraculously, the spasms ceased, and we became only One Soul, locked in an aural embrace of pure love.
I truly looked forward to the next visits. I rushed in to see “my” teen, who showed that he recognized my voice by showering me with his beatific smile. After lunch we sped out to the magic garden to rock and sing with joy, although the tears flowed down my cheeks. One day I was surprised to hear a moaning sound while singing. I stopped my song and looked in amazement at my saintly son. I realized he was singing back to me! After weeks without a whimper, he gave me the gift of a lifetime! What more could I ever want?
The gift of love
My third encounter: I had talked to him several times in passing and had noticed how remarkable it was that this teenage boy always placed his crippled, spastic body in a perfect lotus position to sit up in his bed. But I had never spent too much time with him. One day, he kept reaching out to me, grabbing my shirt while I was feeding a girl next to him. To pacify him, I telepathically promised him that I would take him for a walk when I finished taking the other teen to the garden.
Upon my return, I stood in front of his bed, hesitating to lift him up as he was even larger than the other boy. I was flabbergasted to see him stick out his lower lip in an obvious pout, afraid that I would not keep my telepathic promise! So with a silent “Sai Ram,” I hefted the body that was as tall as I was (but far lighter, thank goodness) and scrambled out to the wheelchairs. Once strapped in, he uttered a squeal of glee, fully sensitive to the forthcoming adventure. We rolled out to the magic garden, down the pathways, under the trees, squealing with joy. Oh God, why did not I bring him out before? How many weeks had I not given him such joy? Forgive me, friend.
This lean lad was very bright, mimicking me with ease. It appeared that he was totally aware, but trapped in a crippled body. His limbs had spastic movements, eyes were unable to focus synchronously, and he was without the power of speech. But his broad smile and squeals of joy lightened my soul beyond words! I fell in love with this child, too, so much so that I knew I would always see him in my memories.
The time to leave arrived; and the pain of leaving was so great I could not stop the tears. I prayed to God to give me strength. As I stood before this child, I whispered, “I love you.” The boy looked up with widened eyes of wonder. He, who had never spoken, spasmodically grasped my shirt with his hands and pulled me close to him. Then, to soften my misery, this heavenly child placed his open mouth on my cheek in a farewell kiss! God is great in His mercy and love—for it was His gift I had received.
~Susan Anne Coats, Tucson, USA
Source: Sanathana Sarathi, July 1996
