Inclusion

I am enmeshed in the world of people helping people; of making inclusion work. Personally and professionally. I am on a high learning curve, always, with both Wil and the children I work with. Down syndrome looks much different than other disabilities, and of course, no matter the disability, each individual is their very own person. There is always more to learn, to know, to understand, and new research and new ways of navigating situations. This world I’ve enmeshed myself in is both a challenging and beautiful place to be.

I recently heard an anti-inclusion comment. It hit me emotionally, like a pierce through the heart. It wasn’t about my son, but I felt it deeply personally. I was so saddened and I couldn’t shake it. I kept rolling it over in my mind. Though I know there are still people out there with these beliefs, it’s so outside the realm of where I am. The feelings were hard, but I didn’t want them to harden me. And thankfully, I had the perfect experience that very evening to put my perspective back in place.

Wil had his first music therapy. He was very excited and packed his acoustic guitar. As we walked into the building where Wil was to have music therapy, a mother and her daughter — her daughter had a disability — were walking out. We quickly assessed one another and shared smiles. An instant feel-good chemistry fills the atmosphere in such meetings of strangers. No matter how unique our paths are, we share a strong bond in the pursuit of unity. We know the path can be arduous, but we have chosen to walk it fully, and in that, we are conjoined warriors in the cause for the good of our children. We don’t slam doors, we open them. That’s what we do in any and every way we know how.

The music therapist welcomed us. As it was evening, her eyeliner was slightly smeared from a long day (as I’m sure mine was) and she had a pleasant, welcoming demeanor. Wil entered her room while I sat outside of it in a cushy black vinyl chair, happy for the rest. Wil and his music therapist instantly started a jam session. On the other side of the door, I heard her beautiful voice rise; I felt my whole body relax and rise in energy at the same time. She gave Wil gentle instructions on notes with his guitar. He sang his favorites, and then she sang hers.

When Wil and his music therapist emerged 45 minutes later, she had a glowing smile on her face. He is such a joy, she said, and by the way she said it, I knew she meant it. Both were high on joyous shared music and energy. And by proximity, so was I.

While I’m not thankful for the door slammer, I’m thankful for the eye-opener that the door slammer brought. To feel the sadness but not allow myself to be hardened by them; rather to rise higher with the good that surrounds us. I was reminded, right on time, of my deep gratitude for the high energy and joy of the door openers. No matter how high our learning curves, how many times things may change, or how exhausted we all may be at the end of the day, we always know, deep in our souls, that what we are doing matters. And it matters big. We are opening doors and creating shared atmospheres of inclusion no matter how unique each of our lives may look.