I had quite a head of steam going for a while there. I was quite surprised at the frequency and sheer volume of my posting.
It seems to have run its course. Now I just feel…. dry. I stare at the screen, thinking I should write something and just…. don’t. I’m sure I’ll find things to write about. But I think it will be a little slower. Dom’s on vacation next week and so I’m going to focus on doing stuff with him and the girls. Maybe when that’s over I’ll have recharged my writing batteries. Or maybe not.
Oh and if you live in the MA area maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at Proud 2B Catholic, a great Catholic family event organized by my brother-in-law that I really should have mentioned before now but kept forgetting. Drop me an email if you plan to be there. I love meeting people.
I am so sad to have missed what you described as a wonderful day. I didn’t find out about it until the day of the event. We only live about an hour away, and would have loved to go, oh well, perhaps next year when the baby won’t be quite so babyish
Thanks for your exquisite details of the day, made me feel almost there. In spirit if not in body!
thanks for taking us along for a beautiful day!! it all unfolds in rich detail in your words!
This picture of Isabella is PRECIOUS! I love the “ta da!” expression and gesture!
What a fine writer you are – a pleasure to read : )
I think, however, we do need to be careful about attributing supernatural powers to people w/Down’s Syndrome and other afflictions. While I don’t think you went overboard, I am concerned about others who can. (There was an article just last week about the way that people with a certain encephalitis – called “Rat People” because of their physical appearance – are feared/revered in Pakistani temples).
My niece has Down’s and her family sometimes has to deal with superstitious people; it’s another challenge to an often overtaxed family.
I don’t say you did this – but we should be careful not to romanticize affliction. It can have more to do with our own feelings than with reality of the person in question. But, hey, considering all the babies with Downs who are aborted every year, it is great to see a child w/Down’s written about so tenderly!!
Thanks Colleen, I wish I’d been more on top of things and remembered to mention the event earlier. It would have been fun to meet you. Hopefully next year.
Dina,
Thank you very much for your compliments and your insights. I agree with what you say about superstition and romanticism. I’m glad you felt I didn’t go overboard.
I wrote this piece in one sitting, stream-of-consciousness style, and didn’t proofread or edit before posting. I think if I were to rewrite it I’d take a bit more care to delineate the distinction you draw. I didn’t want to attribute a supernatural experience to the girl we saw; but to describe an insight into my own spiritual life.
I doubt the reason she was afraid to approach was a mystical experience—though I wouldn’t casually write it off as a possibility either, I think we often underestimate what spiritual insights even the youngest of children are capable of. I suspect it was more likely that she was simply afraid of the strange priest. However I wanted to draw out—as I do with my stories about my experiences with Bella—the ways in which observing her behavior moved me, how the experience is a signpost for me. Jesus says we are to be like children and one of my recurring themes in my blog is an exploration of what that might mean to me here and now.
In watching this girl, I was reminded of something I’d heard expressed elsewhere about how if we really fully understood, saw, and believed the Real Presence in the Eucharist, we would hardly dare approach. If I were more mindful, I wouldn’t be as casual as I frequently am. It is so easy to be distracted, especially when you are at mass with small children. It is good to be reminded of the awesomeness of His Presence and of the fear and trembling with which the Psalms say we are to approach God.
Certainly children with Downs do not have any supernatural powers. Or at least no more than the rest of us human beings do. We are all created in His image and we are all capable of receiving supernatural graces but also capable of human failings. As you suggest, it is a fine line to walk to avoid a facile romanticism which fails to acknowledge the full humanity of those we encounter.
All affliction can be a signpost that reminds us of the Passion of Our Lord and yet we must be careful that when we approach our afflicted brethren we do so with a clear vision and with compassion. Compassion means to suffer with them; which means accepting that we cannot fully understand their experiences and we should not project ourselves into them nor tell them how they are to deal with their sufferings. Above all, I think it means praying for them, and offering help where we can.