Spreading Butter

“I made a grilled cheese sandwich. I liked it. I learned how to spread butter.”

I came across this in an old journal of Wil’s. It’s simple, yet profound. His words. His thoughts. Expressed.

It’s not going to win a Pulitzer. He doesn’t need to be the first person with Down syndrome to write a bestselling novel or win an award.

But these three sentences took learning. It took trying hard. It took rising to another level.

How high can he reach? I don’t know. He’s still reaching and growing, with new words being added to sentences much more complex than these. Jokes with barbs thrown, the meaning of another’s jokes received. Expressions and emotions expressed. New friends, new jobs, and new experiences are being made every day.

My favorite was when he was at the library just about two weeks ago.

“Mom, I saw a beautiful woman. She had blue eyes.” He shyly ducked his head and said, “I said hi to her.”

He’s really good at spreading butter. I don’t think this beautiful, blue-eyed woman will go on a date with him, but I do know she won’t forget that encounter. Whoever he meets, he makes an impact. People smile at him in the grocery store. Strangers soft-step into kindness, walking up to say, “How ya doing, buddy?” or giving him a high-five. They feel comfortable around him. I don’t think it’s because they feel sorry for his disability; it’s his openness. They know if they extend warmth, it will be received. The risk of being shunned disappears. There is a safety in his presence that we all innately feel.

For our kids with Down syndrome to get recognized by the world, they often have to break barriers. Barriers placed by ignorance. But I was ignorant once, and that is now my superpower: to know what I once didn’t. I missed so much before. It’s like when people meet Wil, they stop their world, just as he stops his, to bring back what humanity was meant for. To see one another, to connect, and not just rush by on our own agendas.

That shift brings a care and knowledge deeper than a general knowing. A surface-level knowing tricks you into thinking you know enough, and you miss the beauty and power found in things like three simple sentences. When we live on the surface, we miss the beauty of possibility right in front of us.

Wil puts out a vibe that simply says, I will be your friend. I will share a smile with you just because.

Life really can be that simple. And that simplicity isn’t born from an easy path; it’s found in knowing the hard, in having barriers to break, and in choosing warmth anyway. As we grow, our growth reveals the soul inside that simplicity. The soul in three sentences.

Those three lines were grown in Wil years ago. They are simple, yet they spread butter.