Victor’s room looks out on a small courtyard. From his bed, he can see other buildings and a sliver of sky – just enough to be able to tell whether it’s clear or cloudy, rainy or fair. This limited view is as much as he has seen of the outside world since he was admitted to the hospital for a surgical operation that was supposed to be routine but instead was followed by serious complications.  

The first time I visited Victor, at the request of a close friend of his, he was looking longingly through the window, trying to take in as much of the scene as he could. It was a raw day, and a cold rain pelted the windowpane. Victor had a tracheotomy tube in his throat and could not talk, so he communicated nonverbally through facial expressions, a few mouthed words, and by writing on a pad he kept constantly within reach. During our first visit, he was somewhat reserved, as though he were feeling me out. Was I there because it was my job, or did I care? Would I come back? Was I worthy of his trust? The second time I came by, he recognized me immediately and welcomed me. A bit of the initial reserve was still there, but the atmosphere of the visit was warmer.

A few days later, I visited Victor a third time, and a breakthrough occurred. He let me into his life. I noticed a sketch book on a table near his bed. I asked him about it, and he gestured for me to hand it to him. He opened the sketch book and began to thumb through it, revealing page after page of excellent pencil sketches, many of them portraits. I asked him about the people he had drawn, and he wrote out his answers, telling me a bit about each one – who they were, what his relationship was to them, and why he had drawn them. Through his sketches, I came to know Victor in a way I could not have done otherwise. His portraits, and his comments about the people he had drawn, revealed a sensitive, talented, caring soul. I value the gift he gave me in opening this special door into his world and inviting me in.

Although Victor can only see a little of the world outside his window, he is able to see a much bigger, wider world in his mind’s eye. With a skilled hand, he draws pictures of those he loves.  Through his art he honors the people he draws, and he reflects the work of the Great Artist on his heart.