(Pictured
above: Chloe and Debi Kermeen, Destin, FL)
The
Labyrinth as Bridge
University of Texas Medical Branch, Galveston, TX
The twists and arches of fate are not unlike those of the labyrinth. The quilt
we make of our experiences there are made of the patches of our senses and expectations.
The patterns we make as we walk together are shrouded in mystery, but, like a
quilt, can be dissected to rearrange the patches into ever evolving clarification
of real life within us.
I have walked our labyrinth at the William Temple Episcopal Center by the University
of Texas Medical School in Galveston about thirty times over two years with a
group of Saudi Arabian severely burned children. They had been burned over
thirty to eighty percent of their bodies by an explosion within a wedding tent
housing only women and children. Fifty of the children were rescued by
the Shriners, and nine were brought to the Shrine Burn Institute in Galveston.
I
became their teacher in a public school.
One, then three, of the girls
wore the clothing and veil of their Muslim culture. Most of their mothers
had been killed, and they were allowed to be attended by one male family
member, none of whom had ever had child-rearing experiences, certainly not
within a
modern American culture. I knew a little Arabic… enough to make them
laugh, but the foundation enabling our eventual strong relationships became
the labyrinth.
It was safe ground, accessible to wrapped limbs and heads, flexible in path
to allow
wheel chairs and braces and walkers. Even the finger labyrinth only required
one finger.
We started with the youngest ones while the older sat with their chaperones on
the sidelines. The men were totally understanding that what was being forged
was a trust enabled by the shared care, concern, love, and respect for the developing
immersion of very strong children, rent asunder on the exterior but whole within,
driven by a curiousity, ironic sense of humor, affectionate competition, and
determination to one day have facial tissue soft enough to reveal the smiles
they were beginning to feel within.
The labyrinth is simple in design, and the frequent 180 degree turns seem to
activate left and right brain integration which brings a special spirit to any
classroom, the bounds of which were now those of the labyrinth. English
is developed quickly with meaningful activity, and our sessions back at school
were most successful in vocabulary gleaned from the emotions, deep breathing,
and sharing of the labyrinth experiences.
We held hands like elephant trunks on tails at first and evolved into pacing
set by the different age and personality and physical compatibilities. Eventually
the little ones with leg motions could run the whole thing, and we adjusted
the time to evening as the season’s sun called for sweat not possible
through masses of scarred skin, an invitation to dangerous overheating.
More than a few tears were shed by all of us from time to time, but big brothers
learned patience in their shepherd role, fathers learned flexible contributions
to problem-solving, and grandfathers learned how an American could rely totally
at times on their ancient wisdom.
As for the children, their spirits began to revive their left-for-dead bodies.
I carried former pictures of them always and used those to frequently remind
them
of a better picture of their identity, hoping that eventually the message would
be clear to them that they are so much more then the devastated shell of their
inner core of beauty, character, and strengths of all sorts. The
health care they were receiving was unbelievably warm, persistent, and effective.
The central team of twelve had come to our school to train the
children and staff to accept the horror the appearance of the
children would reflect. A lot
of information passed about healing structures and procedures… even
in the
cafeteria with cooks and servers, clean-up crew and noise patrol. The first
day the nine children paraded through every classroom, they were greeted
with shocked silence until the littlest one totally bandaged began trying
to touch
the blonde hair of a kindergartener and then ran oblivious through the other
classes. When the school dismissed that day, all American children stood
at one of the doors smiling, blowing kisses, waving, etc. to an enchanted
parade of Saudi Arabian newcomers, soon to be part of the school family,
reinforced
and enabled by the off-campus monthly labyrinth experiences.
The bridge of the labyrinth to real school for the next 5 years of healing was
strong and safe.