I tried to alert you to what you were missing. Your curiosity, at least, made some of you turn around and look, check your pockets even, to see what of value you had dropped. But perhaps you could not miss that which you never truly believed you needed. Now you are the ones who are missing. And as one who holds out this treasure, I am filled with sadness, pity and compassion, for you.
I tried to tell you who you are missing. Deep down, I believe some of you have noticed the void in your midst. But your programme of possibilities is thrown, rug like, over her puzzling space. Fully occupied by other valuable and precious causes, Whilst sweeping her, and others, once more from your view.
I tried to tell you it’s you who are missing. Missing more than you can ask for or imagine. Missing belonging, missing beloved-ness, Missing a blessing that has nothing to do with ease. Grace that will find its way to bless another, regardless.
Not on the pages of an inclusive advert, or some clever marketing campaign. Profits helped along by an investment of virtue signalling. The ahhh factor leaves a sense of pride, of doing good. Progress none the less, positive images welcomed by most, including me. No criticism, no envy, there’s room for us all, and all of us are needed, ultimately.
Not on the pages of social media, as we scroll, pause and smile for a few brief moments to notice difference and give it a like. Nor in the sound bites and platitudes of an inspirational news story or televised fundraising event. Down’s syndrome mentioned to the masses in the same breath as your name. As if your difference it isn’t obvious from your photo and therefore necessary to firmly and quickly affix.
In a digital age it seems to me that these are the places you are most definitely wanted. Needed even. Increasingly so. I’ve wanted this too, and many I know who work tirelessly hard to bring this about, for reasons of good. Yet, the varying motivations for wanting or needing this exposure seem, at times, to compete, and end up blocking you entirely from view.
Were you routinely seen today in the park, or the mainstream school or the cafes, restaurants or bars? Or in the Church or the shopping centre, or the swimming pool? How about the Pharmacy, or the Dentist’s waiting room, or when queuing for a bus? Will you one day be seen at the Jobs fair, or the college open day; are these places even open to you? Your kind of diversity seems to do best in a photo opportunity; contained within (Facebook) borders that have yet to be crossed into a new way of life that is good for us all.
Did anyone, aside from your teacher, see your Monday morning joy-face as you entered the classroom of your Special School today? Or hear your laughter at the same point in the same song we sing together every day? Did anyone see you fall silent last summer when your world shrank a little more and, for a few months, you rarely left the house? Did they get to share in your delight as you danced in the living room for the hundredth time to Daydream Believer? You danced like no one was watching: you’d do the same even if they were – a silent disco isn’t the place for you.
Are you needed by society? Definitely. Are you wanted by society? Yes, but only to a degree. I’ve noticed youare routinely missing from it, yet, it appears, you are not routinely missed. Except by those precious humans in our lives who hear for themselves the music you play and collect the colours you bring; they make sure that you are never unseen. And, except by me.
For the “foolish” things of God have proven to be wiser than human wisdom. And the “feeble” things of God have proven to be far more powerful than any human ability.
Downright Joy 