— “That Grandma was right. The right people find each other at the right time. And when we use our gifts to help others, miracles just happen.”
Just then, the first bus of the day arrived, bringing fifteen families from a city a few hours away where several children were struggling with trauma-related issues.
— “Good morning,” Sam greeted them as they stepped off the bus. “Welcome to the Rosewood Foundation.”
A mother approached, holding the hand of a six-year-old girl wearing dark sunglasses.
— “Are you Sam?” she asked, her voice full of hope.
— “I am. And this is Matthew, my brother.”
The woman’s eyes filled with tears.
— “My daughter, Chloe, lost her sight a year ago. The doctors can’t find anything physically wrong. They said maybe you could help.”
Sam knelt down to Chloe’s level.
— “Hi, Chloe. How are you doing today?”
Chloe didn’t answer, but she turned her head toward Sam’s voice.
— “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk right now,” Sam said softly. “I’m going to tell you a story. It’s about a brave girl who lost her colors but found something even more beautiful.”
Matthew took Chloe’s other hand.
— “Sam helped me see again,” he said. “And now I can see you. You’re wearing a very cool dress.”
Chloe smiled for the first time since they’d arrived.
— “How did you lose your sight?” she asked quietly.
— “In a car accident. I was so scared of seeing bad things that my eyes decided to take a break.”
— “Me too. I saw something really scary.”
Sam looked at Chloe’s mother, who nodded, confirming the trauma.
— “You know what, Chloe? Sometimes scary things happen, but beautiful things happen too. And when we learn to be brave, we can see that there’s way more beauty in the world than fear.”
— “How do you know?”
— “Because my grandmother taught me. And because Matthew proved it to me.”
Over the next two weeks, Sam worked with Chloe and the other children. Each had their own story, but they all shared a common thread—they’d experienced something that terrified them so much that a part of them had simply shut down. There was Leo, a nine-year-old who stopped talking after witnessing a violent argument. There was Mia, a seven-year-old with chronic headaches after a traumatic event. There was Jake, an eight-year-old plagued by nightmares after a bad accident.
Sam treated each child individually, but always with the same elements—the clay, the stories, and above all, a lot of patience and care. Matthew became an invaluable assistant, especially with the kids who were most resistant. His own journey made him a powerful witness that it was possible to feel okay again.
— “Chloe,” Matthew said on the fifth day of her treatment, “you’re starting to see some shadows now, aren’t you?”
Chloe nodded shyly.
— “A little. But I’m still scared.”
— “What are you scared of?”
— “Seeing that scary thing again.”
Sam, who was applying the clay, paused.
— “Chloe, you know that scary thing you saw is over now, right? It’s not happening anymore.”
— “I know, but what if it happens again?”
— “Then you’ll handle it,” Matthew said, “because you’re braver now, and because you won’t be alone. You have your mom, your family, and people who love you.”
— “If I tell them what I saw, will they still love me?”
Sam stopped what he was doing completely.
— “Chloe, there is nothing you could tell us that would make us love you less. Nothing.”
— “Will Mom be sad if I tell her?”
