In the long process of therapy and rehabilitation , even the slightest progress by retarded children is like a bud sprouting in the cold of winter. It is not only precious, but also eagerly anticipated.

I remember the first day I came to this rehabilitation school for mentally and physically retarded children. I intended to behave like "a bodhisattva reincarnated with the commitment to help others." If not for this goal, how could I persevere in doing volunteer work and become happier and more grateful the longer I did it?

Realizing the Commitment

A few years ago, I could not do volunteer work at Tzu Chi Hospital because my kids were too young. However, as a nurse, I thought that I should do something to comply with Master Cheng Yen's saying: "A nurse is a white-clad Kuan Yin Bodhisattva." I finally chose to be a volunteer teacher at a school for retarded children near my home.

I originally thought that my job would be to help the retarded children learn skills for daily life and to keep an eye on their safety. Yet, on the first day I reported to the school, someone took me to a class of children with cerebral palsy and said, "Since you are a nurse, the students in this class need you." I never thought that there were so many different kinds of retarded children or that their conditions could be so critical.

I was dumfounded, and I even intended to withdraw my offer to be a volunteer. But I recalled what Sister Li-chuen had told me: "Don't worry about whether you can do it or not. The Master always says that where there is commitment, there is strength." Moreover, didn't I decide to be a bodhisattva reincarnated with the commitment to help others? How could I quit so easily? I took a deep breath, rolled up my sleeves and started my first day as a volunteer teacher.

Sharing Suffering With a Warm Embrace

The children in this class range in age from two to twelve. All of them are multi-handicapped, which means that they have combined problems in seeing, speaking and hearing. Therefore, none of them can even sit still or stand, let alone walk. The best among them is a little boy who can still move his upper body and has fairly good perception, yet he can hardly say a complete sentence.

These children have rehabilitation every day. Whenever I see those tiny figures trembling and crying out loudly in pain, I am always in tears.

Nobody can tell them how long they have to endure the pain or how much hope they might have in doing rehabilitation. Since the therapy will go on forever, there will be no end to their suffering.

All we can do is to soothe their pain by embracing them in our arms. Although their bodies are spotted with their saliva, we know that these hugs are something they really need.

Even Eating Is Torture

Though some children are normal enough to attend special classes at school, they do not sit in chairs as normal children do. They are confined to their wheelchairs, watching their teachers act and talk by themselves. Although they cannot respond to the teachers, we can sense their happiness through their facial expressions.

Every child in this class needs to be fed during meals. If there are enough hands, they do not have to wait very long. Eating is a joyful thing for a normal person, but it is excruciatingly difficult for retarded children. Since they cannot chew their food, they have to swallow each mouthful, which frequently causes them to cough or to spit the food up. Usually, it takes us half an hour to feed one child. The last one in line has to wait for a long time.

It is not uncommon for one of the children to spit food all over a volunteer's face during feeding. When it happens to me, I do not bear any grudge. Instead, I truly sympathize with these children. I keep whispering, "My dear child, compared to the suffering you experience even eating a bowl of porridge, it's not worth mentioning what I go through for you."

Treat Them Tenderly

Once during therapy, a disabled, autistic girl began to shake with panic the moment we put her into a playpen filled with balls. When she calmed down, I gently put a ball into her hands for her to hold. I tenderly sang a song she liked and held her hands firmly, soothing her panic with my touch.

My tears rolled down my face while I gently sang to her and swung her. Then and there, I realized that I had never been so tender to my own two children who were "unfortunately" healthy and normal. Because they were born healthy, I always pushed them to do better or move faster. If I had to repeat something to them several times, I would lose patience and feel that they weren't concentrating.

Had I ever treated my children with the patience and encouragement I used here with the retarded children? Did they deserve to have so much more pressure and so much less happiness simply because they were healthy?

After reflecting on this, I became more grateful to my children. Since they are so healthy, I am able to serve as a volunteer teacher here to love more children.

Fruitful Volunteer Work

Luckily, one of the school supervisors had gone to the same nursing college that I had. She allowed me to be involved in the therapy planning for those children, and this made my volunteer work very fruitful. It also provided me many opportunities to improve myself.

She was surprised to learn that I was a Tzu Chi member. Because this school is supported by a church, most of the volunteers are church members. Moreover, no one had ever worked at the school as a volunteer on a long-term basis. She said to me, "So you are a Tzu Chi member * no wonder!" Actually, I admire the school teachers very much. We will never know how hard the work is unless we actually do it ourselves.