"Mommy, don't go," my three-year-old son screamed as I walked to the door. My fifteen-year-old leaned against the kitchen counter with his arms folded across his chest, not screaming, but glaring at me as I pulled his little brother off my legs.
"Are you mad at me too?"
"You spend all your time taking care of other people's kids, but what about us?" Dylan left angrily.
I was shocked and a little hurt. How could my own child not understand that the work I was doing was saving lives? Then the answer hit me. He didn't know, because he had never seen what Healing the Children actually did. Dylan had heard the stories of sick children, but had never once looked into the eyes of a child and understood the hard truth--that without our help, the children would likely die.
"Get dressed. You are going with me," I said.
I spent the drive explaining the case of Hector to my son, who pretended to ignore me the entire time. "He's seven, only weighs thirty pounds and is very sick. He has a heart condition called Tetralogy of Fallot, which could kill him. It is a miracle (奇迹) that he is still alive."
I went on to explain that it took a team of volunteer medical staff to get Hector to the hospital from his remote village and care for him while he was there. Still, Dylan seemed unimpressed.
We stopped at a convenience store for water and snacks. Dylan had one large and one small Slurpee (思乐冰饮料). He said the small one was for Hector. I doubted whether the little guy would be able to drink it, but remained silent. This was the first interest Dylan had shown in being there. I wasn't about to ruin it.
I stopped at the nurses' station to check on Hector's progress while Dylan went to his room. Our patient was recovering physically, but the nurse was concerned that Hector was struggling emotionally. She said, "Kids usually bounce back fast, but he hardly speaks and never smiles."
注意：
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Imagine my surprise when I heard laughter from Hector's room.
……
On the way home that night, Dylan asked me several times whether Hector would be okay.
