[todaysdate]
By Ernesto Tinajero
Coming home from our yearly visit to the National Institutes of Health (NIH), I found myself wondering about the glory of life. Jesus claims to be the Way, Truth and Life. I have experienced Jesus’ way as we are with other parents in the Kingdom of Sick Kids. Many of the people who make their way to the doctors and researchers at the NIH are ones whose condition is either dire or unique, or in the case of my son, important in unlocking the secrets of the biology to help others.
The NIH stands in contrast to many who see any government run program as a problem. The scientists and researchers have led to high percentages of medical advancements and continue to fund work that will make my son and the millions, if not billions, of lives better. I would venture to say that every American alive today has been touched by the work of the NIH in very positive ways. Yet, I find most people are unaware of their work. I talk to many who, when I say Tito is going to the NIH, have no idea what the NIH is or does. Why have these heroes gone unsung for so long? I am uncertain, but we need to be more grateful to them. They are the ones working on the most fundamental level of life.
What strikes me most, though, is how much I learn about Jesus while there and how spiritual the NIH is. I mean spiritual as Jesus commands, meaning the the place is full of people who love one another, which is Jesus’ marker of true spirituality. Walking the grounds of the Childrens Inn at the NIH, or the hallways of the NIH, I see people of all hues and colors all working for something bigger than themselves, working on giving life to others. Though busy, most stop to smile at my son and he return their gestures with a joy. We met parents that need love as we all do. I touch what Jesus means and the Church so often ignores, love being the Way, Truth and Life. I learn the power of prayer in these moments at the NIH. As I reflected on our time among the heroes of the NIH, a poem came to me as a gift.
Ode to Bella
Bella’s eyes,
the color
of the clear Caribbean
morning sea, dances
at the sight of a green
straight slide. The air
fills with orange juice
and blueberries. Her hair,
spun precious metal
of golden waves, curls
in the water soaked
air of Maryland.
Bella is five and plays
with Tito. Their joy only
found in five olds worldwide,
mows the growing
grass with giggles.
They are the same age,
Tito, my son
and Bella of the pretend
tea parties and dollhouses.
The playground discovered behind
the Children’s Inn of the National
Institutes of Health beckons
them to ride rosy trikes
and sliver scooters. Bella
and Tito meet in the Kingdom
of sick children and worried
parents. They both have
conditions that betray
their play. Condition—
what a cursed word,
which we beat upon, for these
two are more than
their conditions. Both run
as kids, but Biology
tricks. Soon, Bella’s
spine will stiffen like palm
tree, forcing her into a chair
fused with wheels. Today,
she beautiful as she pushes
Tito down the red
corkscrew slide. She
will always be glorious
and beautiful as she
is on this, our eternal day
together by the great ocean,
which creates our common
life. Bella, sweet Bella.
You remain a beloved child
of God. Always.
