Shunning those afflicted with leprosy was apparently common practice in ancient times. Nor, it would appear, has that changed as much as we might think. A person cured of leprosy was not just rescued from a disease; they were delivered from a life of isolation. In some ways more literal than others, they were freed as well as healed.

Children born with cleft palates endure a similar fate in many parts of our world today. They are shunned, isolated, mocked, even beaten savagely because of their disfiguring affliction. Relegated to the confines of their homes, most of them never attend school more than once. The memories of that one time are sufficient punishment. In most cases, the parents have no hope of changing their child’s situation; even if they literally sold themselves or their other children, they could not raise enough money for the medical procedures needed.

For some time, Randa and I have been meager supporters of Smile Train, a charity that provides corrective surgery. Their results are nothing short of miraculous. Appalling deformities are corrected. Children who could not stand to see their own reflection are given proud and joyful smiles. Their faces, and their lives, are transformed. They move from the darkest shadows of their streets and villages into the light of playful association with peers. Their parents are freed from the torture of watching their children endure the mocking and rejection. Truly, their sorrow is turned into dancing.

Ever time I watch the stories, I am moved to tears. I remember the years of occasional ridicule and mocking because of my buckteeth and know that my experience was nothing compared to what these children and their families endure. I sit, sobbing with both grief and relief when I see these little ones rejoicing after their surgeries. In the midst of that, I see the hundreds and thousands of other families who are turned away because of a lack of funding.

Briefly, I think of what could be done if our nation diverted just one percent of its military budget to such works as this. Then, I begin to reflect on what it is that I could give up that could also make a difference. I begin to look around me to see what possessions I could sell and change a life. Turn mourning into rejoicing.

So many miracles begin within us when we begin to see how a slight inconvenience here could transform lives elsewhere.

H. Arnett

3/9/11