Blog by Haley W.

Monday, March 17th 2014

Our first day at Terence Cardinal Cooke, our first few “UNO” games with its willing residents, my first experience of not not knowing what to say but rather not knowing if I ever would, the difference being terrifying worry multiplied ten fold. I wrote before coming on this trip how I expected it to be a transformative one, how I— direct journal quote (something I’ve never revealed before)— “hope I’m able to touch the lives of people who may need it, that they touch mine in ways I need, and that all is better for it.” I hadn’t considered that the exchanging of wisdom, life lessons, what have you, could be so painful. Acknowledging that everyone has something to share and teach us is one thing, a beautiful thing, recognizing that we cannot choose our lessons, however, is another. Entirely. I’ve only yet experienced our single day at TCC, only our first few card games with the residents, yet somehow by some power of vulnerability or subconscious searching or pure happenstance, some of these lessons have already been revealed to me.  

            The first came delivered framed: “The ‘gift of life’, God’s special gift, is no less beautiful when it is accompanied by illness or weakness, hunger or poverty, mental or physical handicaps, loneliness or old age,” a beautiful reminder by Terence Cardinal Cooke himself at the Flower Wing entrance to the clinic. The second was a more simple reminder of the kindness of the human spirit in the form of Tom, Maggie, Jesus, Lorelei, and Donna, some of the many names that make up the heart of TCC: its most honorable staff. The third was a bitter pill, which I, unfortunately, forgot to take with a spoonful of lesson one’s wisdom. I was caught unarmed, unprepared, unsuspecting, and just entirely and utterly off guard: life’s preciousness, when it is only partially sustaining, feels so easy to put into question for feelings of anger and regret over the inexplicable, arbitrary, unreasonable lottery that is birth. Witnessing otherwise beautiful faces beholden to a mind and body engineered by an unforgiving, merciless, lazy son of a bitch of a nervous system is immediately haunting and equally saddening and absolutely maddening. There are no more words for it. At least for now.  

            The day ended with a final challenging yet clarifying message, kinder words that went something like: FIND the silver lining though the silver be but a sliver! Today’s silver lining was “UNO”, a true unifier; it was Mr. A’s newfound voice; it was in Mr. S’s jokes and the cocky tilt of Mr. C’s hat; it was in my fellow serving Terps, in the meal we all prepared together, and in the promise of tomorrow’s sliver.

Haley W.