I heard Melissa cry this morning.
Her bedroom is right under our kitchen. She cried for the longest time, and it was all I could do not to run down to comfort her. I listened for some signs of lessening grief, but she kept on sobbing. Finally, I got on the intercom and called down to Fran.
“Did Melissa fall and hurt herself?”
Fran knew immediately what I was asking. So often there was no need for words between us.
“I’ll go check, Mrs. K. Call you right back.”
And I waited, straining every fiber of discipline within me. I had battled this one out so many times before, and the victory seemed to come and go. It is not always easy to be right on deck while someone else does all the mother things you want to be doing for your own child. And I knew that many times it must not be easy for those who were caring for Melissa, with her mom and dad in the wings, especially when they could not know the confidence we had in them that helped us entrust our child to their care. For we were on both sides of the fence at once—-hopelessly straddled.
Fran didn’t call back. She “ding-donged” at the apartment door and I yelled my usual “Come in!”
“Just thought you might have a second cup of coffee for me.” She smiled. “Melissa pushed Debbie, and Debbie cut her lip. So Melissa got her hand spanked.”
It was the only form of discipline that we permitted our child-care workers to use, spanking on the back of the hand.
“Thanks, Fran!” I poured out two cups and it was hot and steaming and tasted good in my mouth.
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It happens so often, it really should not matter so much to me anymore.
In my coming and going at Melmark, my running up and down the stairs, I frequently see Melissa with five or six other toddlers. I always stop to greet my small daughter, but I have noticed lately that an imperceptible change is taking place a small but hurtful change.
No longer am I the king pin in her life around which her meals and baths and fun times revolve. Now, all these good things happen each and every day of her life, and she has discovered that I, her mother, do not even have to be on the scene at all. So I have unwittingly assumed the role of an “extra.” Now Melissa greets me with the enthusiasm and charm that she accords any casual passerby.
And, odd though it may sound, I cannot bring myself to single out Melissa from the rest of the group, granting her all of the special favors that my mother heart cries out to give to her.
Besides, even if I wanted to, there is no way—-no way! Whenever I walk into the Orange Room I am immediately covered with these adorable children—every one of which is talking at once, clamoring for attention, sitting on my lap, asking to go
Up, up Mommy Krentel?”
Up, up Mommy Krentel?”
And I have pondered many times, should I say, “Melissa is my daughter and she is the only one who is allowed to go up on the third floor with me?” No, I cannot do that! So, most of the time, Melissa arrives with Amy, Charlie, Terry, Billy or Debbie in tow.
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It is strange what flips-flops my silly heart will do when Melissa does bestow some great affection on me. My heart turns to jelly as she ruffles my hair or sits in my lap gazing wide-eyed and comical into my eyes—-then screws her mouth into a clown’s face. I am completely captivated! Then , just when I am swooning at all this enchanting display of personality and charm, she whizzes off my lap and drops down Indian-fashion within six inches of our TV set, and acts as though she doesn’t hear my mock crying.
“Boo-hoo, Melissa, come see Mommy!” But she doesn’t give a wiggle.
And that’s the way it is!
Whenever I am clear-headed and freed from maudlin self-pity and the millstones of vanity and pride which sometimes adorn my neck, I do believe that the legacy we have given our daughter is of far greater value than the “ministering unto” that my silly selfish heart sometimes demands.
THEREFORE,
Being of sound mind and of sound body, we do hereby bequeath to one small daughter, Melissa, for as long as she shall live;
MELMARK: so that the world into which you were born shall never reveal to you its heart of stone and feet of clay.
2. MELMARK: where little people and big people will be your friends and playmates and will not ask of you more than your are capable of giving, yet will expect from you always your best.
3. MELMARK: wherein the dignity of your own small life will be respected as you live in a special world which you yourself can handle with understanding.
4. MELMARK; a world which will——
challenge you ——through training and schooling when your own vision falls short of its goal;
comfort you——when you stumble over blocks that thoughtless hands let drop in your path;
prompt you—-in order to keep you marching forward and arching upward;
protect you—-not from, but in a world that, at best, is “not shaped for the helpless.”
We give to you, Melissa, our bright-eyed pathfinder—-MELMARK—to have and to hold for so long as you both shall live.
With all our love,
Mommy and Daddy
EPILOGUE
Saturday, February 6, 1970 was a red-letter day in our young corporate history. After an all-day meeting with our board of directors, it was voted unanimously to approve a $1.13 million building projects. Plans were made to proceed full speed ahead with a gymnasium, a swimming pool; three cottage-type units to house forty-five more children, and two new staff residences.
For over five years, we had tried to keep pace with our populations explosion. During the first year of operation, we enclosed two porches and remodeled five small rooms in which we had been housing resident staff. That gave us room for fifteen more children! In the second year, we added a brand-new nursery and a sunshine room for totally handicapped children. This provided twenty-two more beds. Our family grew to ninety-one, all residing in one thirty-five-room French chateau built in 1914.
We ate, in shifts; we played, taking turns in the big playroom. We improvised at every turn, making classrooms where there were none and turning unused space into needed bathrooms. It was mind-bolggling but challenging.
We had discovered that our Melmark family responded to a varied program of stimulating physical and educational activities. Water therapy prove to be of great benefit to our physically handicapped children. And that called for room!
During the summer months, it was easy. We conducted swimming classes in our two outdoor pools and used our playground and tennis courts to their fullest. But summer is short, and there were nine long months when the swimming pool was all covered up and the ground was cold, hard and uninviting.
We realized that we would have to expand in order to stretch the horizons of the physical, mental and spiritual worlds of our limited children. It was a giant step of faith and we did not take it lightly. We stepped out with confidence and faith in our God.
On the afternoon of May 20 1971 the first three residents of Melmark—Melissa, Todd and Terry——grabbed the big handles of the gold-painted shovels and did their best to dig in the rocky earth. It seemed fitting that these little ones who had tangled themselves up so completely in our hearts and lives should be the first ones to push the shovel into the ground.
It was our groundbreaking!
It was a simple ceremony. The trees stood tall and proud where the new cottages would nestle; the sun shone brightly and the wind blew in playful little gusts. We prayed, and even Melissa bowed her head. We sang, and the people that had gathered there for this momentous occasion joined in.
Praise Him, Praise Him, all ye little children; God is Love, God is Love!
Soon the bulldozers arrived, and in the sloping hillside a nesting place was hollowed out for another outreach, another arm of the “home that Love built.”
After almost eleven months of dizzy, busy building activity, our dedication day was upon us. I was so excited I couldn’t even pray for good weather. I was positive it would rain and equally as certain we would never fill up that big empty gym with visitors. “O ye of little faith!”
To begin with, the afternoon was delightful, and unseasonably warm April Sunday.
“Come and share in our happiness,” More than one thousand persons crowded the gymnasium-auditorium. We were humble awestruck as they packed the aisles and crowded the doorways, straining their ears to catch the voices from the stage.
The dedicatory address was delivered by the Rev. Dr. James Boice, pastor of Philadelphia’s Tenth Presbyterian Church. Then a simple program was presented by the students. There were rhythmic interpretations by the kindergartners, and the first public performance of the Melmark Hand bell Ringers. The audience lent enthusiastic applause punctuated with occasional indulgent laughter at the inevitable mixups of any childrens’ program.
Four year old Debbie struck a responsive chord with the crowd when she sang “Six Little Ducks” with appropriated impish actions.
Then, twelve year old Gary limped haltingly to the front of the stage and stood poised in front of the mike, holding his one twisted hand awkwardly with the other. His brown eyes behind his tortoiseshell glasses were serious and unblinking. He quietly waited for the piano introduction and sang, right on pitch in a clear soprano voice, “Only believe, only believe; All thing are possible.” Each word came out clearly. There was not a dry eye left in the audience.
As the over flow crowd streamed out to tour the new facilities, Paul and I stood up at the front and shook hands. I couldn’t believe this miracle was really happening!
It was a day never to be forgotten. For it marked the beginning of a new expanded life for our children.
Our indomitable Scotch-Irish housemother, in her stocking feet and fully dressed, impulsively played the Pied Piper to four of our toddlers who were momentarily intimidated by our new pool. Down the ramp she splashed, holding their hands tightly. Into the water they romped with her and just like that their fright vanished. why, the water was warm! This was like summertime and it was fun.
Howie hippety-hopped down the long hall outside the gym like an agitated kangaroo, and string-bean Guilford asked timidly, “May I run?” We watch him take off on the shiny gym floor, fleet-footed as a deer, running three times around the base line without stopping.
And that is kind of the way our exceedingly abundant God is never stopping halfway, never thinking that things need not be so special for these “lesser” children. Our hearts are full to brimming.
Always, it seems, we are asked the question, But, is it all paid for?
And we answer simply, no. Not yet! There is a mortgage of $550,000 left. But we do not worry. Would God, who “owns the cattle on a thousand hills” let us fall by the wayside now?Never! On, indeed it is an awesome responsibility. And sometimes we run scared. but we are quietly expecting that He will remove this debt in the near future. As we wait and work, our hearts will go on praising.!
THE END
Take a look at where Melmark is today (See link below) and you will be amazed at God's goodness! It's ever expanding facilities and programs keep mushrooming into a great home for our special ones. Next week I will type some of Mother's second book on Melmark that was published when Melissa Comes Home went out of print. Also look below to see some more pix. Thanks for taking a peek. Leave me a message how you liked the book, okay? Stay tuned for more varied postings! Diane Krentel Hodge
