via Sea Change Ripples
When I read the above post on a stranger's blog, I was reminded of a friend who told me a story of a boy in her neighborhood whose mother asked whether her son could perhaps come over and play a little basketball with my friend's son who had Down Syndrome. My son needs to do some community service, the woman said. He still needs a few more hours. My friend knew that she was supposed to feel gratitude toward this woman and her son, but she didn't. I don't remember what she said, but it wasn't sure, send your son over who has known my son for all of his life but wouldn't spend time with him unless it earns him some hours which, to tell you the truth, makes me think he's a shallow boy with an even more superficial mother. She felt belittled and small and probably overcome by that weariness that sets in when you are reminded, again, of the long road ahead.
When I read the above post on that stranger's blog who is far more intimate with me now than even some of my closest friends for having articulated these shared thoughts and feelings, I wondered if I even had the stamina to do the calling out and to keep it up. I wondered if I'd live the rest of my days -- and Sophie's -- in the steady loneliness that is the result of constantly trying to persuade the world of her worth should it just take the opportunity to see.