Lily

She was about three years old, her black hair in little ponytails, her dark eyes cloudy and unseeing. Like the other children, she was dressed in several layers against the cold of the unheated second floor playroom. She moved around just slightly clumsily.

The junior high students in the room gravitated away from her to other toddlers, wanting to be involved in our church's day long service project at this rural orphanage, but unsure of how to handle the blind child.

She had a hat in her hands, kind of a funny pointed hat for playing dress-up games. She passed it from hand to hand, and pushed it against furniture within her reach, manipulating it in a haphazard way.

I also was unsure of how to interact with Lily. I watched her for a few minutes, shy of her. I wished there was another child I could turn to, to distract me from Lily and her blindness, but the junior high students were engaging them all. Only Lily was alone.

Hesitantly I moved toward her. I gently took the hat from her hands and put it on her head. My English words had no meaning to her ears, but I began to talk to her, putting the hat on her head again as soon as she removed it, trying to make a game of it. She seemed pleased, smiling a little, and we played this way for several minutes.

I moved from my crouching position on the floor to sit in a little chair, child-sized. I guided Lily over toward the chair with me. She seemed to have tired of the hat game. Not knowing what to do next, I started to sing to her.

"Jesus loves me, this I know.
For the Bible tells me so.
Little ones to Him belong.
They are weak, but He is strong."

I don't know if Lily held my hands first, or if I took her hands, but after I sat down in the little chair and began to sing to her, we found ourselves facing each other and holding hands as I sang. Lily clearly enjoyed the singing. She began to slowly rock my hands back and forth to the music, just a little. I sang "Jesus Loves Me" over and over, and she almost seemed entranced by the sound. She was very still now, aside from the slight rocking, listening carefully. Her head was turned a little to the side, and she had a far away look in her blind eyes. I moved on to some other songs.

"Jesus loves the little children,
All the children of the world.
Red and yellow, black and white,
They are precious in His sight,
Jesus loves the little children of the world."

Sometime between "Jesus Loves the Little Children" and "Amazing Grace", Lily climbed onto my lap. This was completely unsolicited. She scooted up to me and laid her head right against my chest. She did it so quickly, she was snuggled up to me almost before I knew what was happening. I kept singing, not wanting to startle her or do anything that would break the mood.

The minutes passed, and I heard someone say that our bus would be leaving the orphanage in a few minutes. It was almost time to go. Still I sang. I didn't want to leave Lily. Her warm little body was feeling heavy against me, and I suspected that she had fallen asleep. I sang an old lullaby that my mom used to sing to me, that her mom used to sing to her.

"Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee,
All through the night.
Guardian angels God will lend thee,
All through the night.
Soft the dreary hours are creeping,
Hill and vale in slumber sleeping,
I, my loving vigil keeping,
All through the night."

Finally it really was time to go. Someone else in the room went to find an ayi to take the sleeping Lily from me. The ayi lifted her little body away from me and carried her to a bed in the other room. For some reason, I didn't want to watch this. I didn't want to see if she woke up, disoriented. I hoped she would stay peacefully asleep. I didn't want to see sadness in her blind eyes. I wonder why? Am I a coward? The fact was that I wouldn't be keeping vigil all through the night. I had to go.

The warmth of Lily against me lingered as we walked down the stairs, out the door and to the waiting bus.

I wonder who is keeping vigil over Lily tonight.