Why I do the work I do:
Last Saturday, I witnessed Emma break into a smile, and start clapping, and singing "America . . . ". I kneeled besides her wheelchair, and clapped and sang with her. The musician leading our group had succeeded once more to open doors for residents like Emma who are otherwise walled into silence.
A few days later, I stopped by her room, and sat by her as she laid curled up on her bed. I told her how much I had enjoyed seeing her so happy, singing the other day. And got her to smile. "Yes, I like to sing."
I have been thinking a lot about Emma and her quiet suffering.
"We've got to get you to sing more often, Emma."