Our week, almost at an end, has been spent in a lodge, beside the most beautiful, tranquil lake in the heart of the Devon countryside. After a hectic and very emotional end of term as my daughter moves on from her beloved school to new beginnings, a few days to simply stop, breathe and clear the lump in my throat was just what I needed.
The local heron, ever present with its majestic flight up and over the trees, alighting daily on the bank for a spot of sentinel feeding. Moorhens and their young, swimming like dancing Egyptians back and forth. And swifts. So many swifts. Appearing out of nowhere, feathered fighter pilots storming the sky above the lake, feasting on the myriad insects gathered there.
But one particular lakeside dweller has, all week, evaded me. The Kingfisher. That most visually eloquent yet elusive of birds. Despite my constant attempts to spot it, I have failed. Until just now.
I’d done all the right things…got up early to catch it feeding, hidden myself behind the trees so as not to scare it. And I’d prayed…as I often do. Nothing.
So, today, after my early morning trek around the lake to find it, I sat down outside the lodge and admitted defeat. Perhaps it was nesting elsewhere this year. I prayed a final but very grumpy prayer. Please let me catch a glimpse.
Seconds later, and I mean seconds, I saw it. Unmistakable flash of brilliant blue and orange streaking across the far side of the lake. I’d seen it. That was enough for me. I was happy. But there was more. Much more. A pair of Kingfishers darted here and there, right in front of me. An acrobatic air show of the finest order.
And I realised something. This visual feast, this Kingly display had been there all the time. I just needed to stop looking so hard in one area, for what I wanted to see, but open my eyes to the entire landscape.
In the Down’s syndrome community, and in life, it’s easy to feel pressure to see faster progress in your child’s development. Milestones that should be reached and ticked off an imaginary list. Sitting up, standing, walking, talking, or even toileting. And when our children can’t or don’t reach these milestones when we thought they would it’s so easy to feel discouraged. That we must be doing something wrong. That it’s our fault. That’s not to say we don’t push for them or encourage them to reach their full potential. But what is potential?
My child may not be able to walk very far and she doesn’t have many words. She is not yet able to fully feed by herself and is reliant on a feeding tube. Yet her potential is being realised every single day regardless of these so called limitations, or unmet milestones. Every day she shows love, joy and compassion to those around her. Every day she breathes life into our environment with her laughter and her sense of humour. Every day her life, her very existence, reminds us to give thanks for the transformation she has brought into our lives. Her sister’s life – enriched beyond measure as she instinctively and lovingly cares for and delights in the adoration of her sibling. The richness to be found in a person with Down’s syndrome, and that can be found in her too, is incomparable.
Whatever this world has in store for her life, however good, will never be able to equal what she has stored up and brought into our world. It’s a sadness to me that so many people won’t even catch a glimpse of this beauty, this brilliance in so many people with Down’s syndrome. So focused are they on achieving their goals they believe the lie that society has told them – that Down’s syndrome is a risk to their dreams and successes and must be dealt with – the earlier the better, preferably before they are even born. Brilliance not even given the opportunity to be seen.
I want brilliance in my life. And not just inspirational glimpses. I want more.
I have it thanks to my child with an extra chromosome.
Beautiful brilliance.
July 26, 2019 at 11:14 am
Absolutely beautiful blog dear Alison.
And you know what I’ve found so amazingly is that the gift of Hazel has helped me catch those glimpses of brilliance too.
Utterly invaluable. 😍🕊🕊🕊💕
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July 27, 2019 at 12:09 pm
Wonderful and beautiful as always…..lump in my throat. Did you not see any geese? x
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July 28, 2019 at 9:20 pm
Thanks Liz – no sadly not a goose to be found! x
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July 28, 2019 at 7:38 pm
I loved the blog Alison, it was wonderful to see you and Hazel at church today. I saw a miracle in her how she has grown. Not being in church because of my treatment it was a real joy to see the difference in her. And her sister Miriam.xxxx what beautiful girls you have. God is good.xxxxx Love you lots Sue.xx
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July 28, 2019 at 9:22 pm
Thank you so much Sue – so wonderful to see you this morning – and I know you’ve still got a tough few weeks ahead I’m sure – we will continue to pray for your journey to recovery. Yes Hazel’s really made some huge progress this year – she loves being in church and listening to the band! Both my girls make me proud every day xx
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July 28, 2019 at 8:42 pm
Beautifully written and I couldn’t agree more. It’s so easy to get bogged down in the everyday and meeting expectations that we often miss the bigger picture. Glad you saw the kingfishers in the end.
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July 28, 2019 at 9:23 pm
Thanks Jade, yes it is – and I just read your post – wow I’m going to be nicking those ideas – brilliant!!
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July 30, 2019 at 1:12 am
Such a beautiful post. So well written and heart warming. ❤️❤️
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