Showing posts with label Birth-days. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Birth-days. Show all posts

Thursday, February 20, 2014

Dear 8th Graders



Dear 8th Graders,

Way back in the fall of 2005, you entered kindergarten and a little experiment was going on.
You had a student in your class with an extra chromosome, otherwise known as Down Syndrome.
No one came out and told you about this student and you just accepted him the way you accepted all of the other children in your class.

He couldn't run as fast as you could.
He couldn't write as well as you could.
He couldn't speak clearly.
And yet, he was part of you.

You figured it out.
You naturally, without any adult intervention, knew that this guy needed some support.  
You let him use a different kind of basket when you played two on two basketball.
You threw the ball a bit differently so that he could catch it more often.
You walked a little slower to be by his side.

You accepted him.

Did you know you had a choice?

Not really...because we tricked you.
We just put him in your kindergarten class --
where kindergarteners just want to have fun.

*****

When Patrick was born, as soon as he was born, the doctor whisked him away, checked him all over and brought him back to us a few hours later with a new label:
 Down Syndrome.

The doctor closed the door.
He put a sign on the door telling others not to visit us.
He didn't even let Jack or Mary Kate come in to see their little brother.
He thought this label would take some getting used to.  
He thought we would be crying and scared.
He wanted us to have time.

He was coming from a good place...trying to be kind...but in truth, he was being cruel.

You know why??

He never went to school alongside someone who had this label.
He was afraid of it.
He didn't understand it.
He thought it was worth grieving.

Patrick did not get a celebration in those first hours of his birth.
No joy.
No laughing and photo-ops.
A whole lot of serious.

Can you imagine?

Probably the one person who is as joy-filled as could be and that was his welcome.
Maybe that's why he celebrates birthdays, all birthdays, in the biggest way possible now.

What was it like when you were born?

Oh, how your family celebrated!
How loved and awaited you were.

*****

So here we are nine years after beginning the experiment.
1,520 days you've been together.
Only 100 left until graduation.

I can't thank you enough for your acceptance.
Your grace.
Your friendship and kindness...

you know why?

Because you weren't nice out of pity or because morally you thought you should or because you were trying to be nice or even because your parents told you to be nice.

You were accepting because you had the chance to get to know someone before you knew his label.

Best of all, Patrick had this chance.

That was our dearest hope for Patrick...
at St. James he could be Jack and Mary Kate's little brother.  
He didn't have to be "Patrick with Down Syndrome".

He got to just be Patrick.

If only you could know how profound that gift is.
Everywhere else, and I mean everywhere else, he is "Patrick with Down Syndrome".

Here, in this little school of 300, he is label-less.
It's grace in the ordinary.every.single.day.


Did you know that Patrick will be the first person with Down Syndrome to graduate from a Catholic school in our entire diocese???
He's the only person I know that has Down Syndrome and is on student council, anywhere.

Do you know that because of your acceptance and the way your class has shown the school and the bigger world how to be as people that you are changing the world?

For the better.

Do you know that still to this day principals and priests at other schools say no when a family that has a child with Down Syndrome asks to go to their parish school??
That craziness still happens.

Why?
Because that principal or that priest didn't go to school alongside of people with disabilities.
They're scared and ignorant.
They don't realize just how normal it is.

Someday you might be a principal.
Or a teacher.
Or a banker.
Or a parent.

I know that your kindness and awareness will be reflected in those jobs.
I can't wait to see what you do with your level of justice and equality and care.
I'm so excited about our future.
Because of you.
(And your parents, of course.)

Let's make the last 100 days the best yet.
Now you know the experiment.
You can tell your side of the story.
Share what you know.
Share your experiences.

Share with the world what equality and social justice looks like and feels like...
wait, it just feels normal....
like how it's supposed to be.
Exactly, my friends.

Never tolerate segregation or separation.
Anywhere.
You know the truth.

Together, we're better.

Tuesday, November 26, 2013

Nesting Part II



In the fall of 1992, I was pregnant with my first baby.  I went about my days teaching school to some 5th graders and coming home and painting, preparing and otherwise "nesting" in a big way.  That word was unknown to me at the time but I was feathering my nest just like a mother bird...anticipating, smiling, imagining and wondering.  It was a blissful time.  
It was impossible to picture -- us with a baby.

John would take the tiny outfits that we had been given and make the tiny legs walk with their hanger and speak in a  tiny voice..."Here I am!" he would say.
We'd giggle and try to picture us as parents.

Preparing for a baby when it seems that most of the world is preparing for another important birth is extremely special.  It felt like my universe made sense.  I could relate to Mary on the back of that donkey in a big way...and giving birth in a stable didn't seem so bad, better than on the side of the road!
I cherished the idea of a star pointing the way to that stable...loved the royal visitors...every part of the story seemed better for being pregnant too.

As we got the room ready, our hearts ready and our world ready we felt nervous and excited.
There was no way to know how it would all go but it didn't matter.  It felt joyous and right.

And on December 26th, 1992, we met our first born.  He came easily.  He was sleepy and snuggly and the very best bit of Christmas magic around.  We slid into parenthood and marveled.
Nothing can prepare you for the expansion of your heart or the experience of a whole new world.

And so yesterday, as I found myself cleaning and washing and imagining and picturing not just one child coming home from college but two, I couldn't help but smile.
The nesting, it seems, doesn't end.
Like everything, it morphs...
but there is a familiarity to it.

I went into Jack's room yesterday and got it ready.  I lingered over the pictures from high school, the photos, the memories and the feel of having him here.  I moved to Mary Kate's room, changed the sheets, smiled at the pictures and posters and primping supplies left behind in her safe haven.  

It felt a lot like getting ready for babies to be born...and in a way it was...my babies are most definitely in their college cocoon.  They are transforming and growing and changing and slowly being born into adulthood.

It's scary and sacred...just like the months before birth.

So, I guess I'm Nesting Part II.

Who knew that it continued?

Never got that tidbit of info.

But, it doesn't matter.  I'm smiling with anticipation.  I'm looking forward to seeing them both walk off their airplanes...ready to look deep into their eyes, hug them tight and drink them in...just like their real birth-days many moons ago.

Welcome Home sweet ones...we missed you!