The Presence of His Spirit 3

My heart beat rapidly as fuzzy static turned into a picture on the TV. A very active six year old girl and five year old boy scurried back and forth in a playroom on the screen.

"What beautiful hair she has," I remarked. We had a difficult time seeing Cheryl's face. She managed to keep her back to the camera most of the time.

"He loves those trucks, doesn't he," Bob observed as Don, typical boy, was wearing out the knees of his pants pushing trucks across the floor.

The tape ended and I wished for more. They looked like wonderful children.

"As I told you before, Cheryl has some learning problems and is in a special kindergarten class," Joy began explaining. "Don does not talk well yet, and we know that he is delayed in his development. He is in a special Easter Seals program."

"What kind of progress could we expect from Don?" I asked.

"We can't tell you. We don't know. When he is nine or ten, they will be able to assess his future progress a little more successfully."

Sherry had been watching us as we viewed the video and talked with Joy. She removed some papers from a folder she brought and laid them before us.

"I thought you might like to see some of their school work." There were crayon drawings and kindergarten work sheets--mostly just marks on paper, although you could see the beginnings of some writing skills on Cheryl's work.

Sherry shared some of her experiences with the children in her home and answered questions about Don's language development. The more she talked, the more I began to feel I knew her somehow. I was certain we'd never met. Could the familiarity just be our common bond of motherhood?

The more we talked, the stronger the feeling of a bond grew. I became distracted from our purpose--unsettled.

"I have to leave for a moment," Joy said pushing her chair back. "I have a phone call to make. Excuse me."

We continued to talk for a few minutes. There was an urgency within me to ask a question I had never asked a total stranger before. I could feel my face redden with the anxiety as I opened my mouth to inquire...