I spent the last while working with children with profound disabilities. I think that’s a politically correct way of saying it at the moment. I’m so moved to write about this experience, but hesitant too because I don't want to make generlisations and these words maybe won't come close to expressing what I want them to.

My own insecurity, judgement and incapability stared me in the face as I walked into the house. Clueless as to how to communicate with a person who can't speak and doesn't seem to respond at all. Shocked by it all and afraid.

Time accomplishes a lot so as days and weeks passed I learned the ins and outs of the children. I realised how much personality lay under the distorted or damaged outside shells. Through the barrier of a voiceless silence emerged precious individuals. The response of a smile or hand gripping my own back seemed to communicate deeper than words would have done anyway.

I cried over their stories. Whether damaged by human intent, an unexpected tragedy or even just a random chromosome, what remained was a heartbreaking sadness over the bittersweet potential that every life brought with it.

Inside, though, there was beauty and there was life. There was something intensely loveable about these human beings, perhaps in their unique, but very pure and authentic nature. I saw something awoken and brought to life in the people that cared for them. My own heart has grown and I am positive I'm the richer for knowing them.