Celebrating National Adoption Month

Here at Life With Charley we have lots to celebrate during National Adoption Month.
#lifewithcharleyanddownsyndrome

Here are just a few reasons...

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Sherry Palmer is the author of: Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption

You are invited to read the first two chapters free, at: Zharmae Publishing Press

Thanks for stopping by our little corner of the world...Please, share with your friends. Thanks!

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@1pageturner: @isdonn #NationalAdoptionMonth #AngelsInDisguise @AshleyNMe1 #downsyndromeadoption

#AngelsInDisguise   #NationalAdoptionMonth  #InternationalDownsyndromecoalition  #Downsyndromeparents #worlddownsyndromeday

How My Son Fixed A Hotel Problem that I Couldn't

Photo, courtesy of Angels in Disguise. Look for the link on this site. You will love it!

This is the face of a leader. 

While there are some in the world who might think of a person with Down syndrome as marginal, let me assure you, that’s a misnomer. Even so, I think it’s safe to say in general, people would not consider a person with Down to be a leader.

What exactly is a leader, anyway? I believe a leader is a thinker. A problem solver. A decision maker. Someone who doesn't wait around for others to make things happen. Things happen because the leader makes them happen. Not by railroading others, or demanding, or coercing. But, by facing the giants. 

By giants, I mean facing those things that seem insurmountable. What may seem impossible to some seems a matter of course to a leader. When it comes down to it, a leader sees the need, signs up for the challenge, and then gathers the team to get it done. 

A leader sees the abilities in others, calls them to the task, and then gets out of the way and allows them to do it. 

A leader inspires others. Not with their elevated sense of self, but by their sense of seeing what's possible and elevating others. A leader is fearless.

Sometimes I forget what a leader Charley is. How he kicks his Down syndrome out of the way when facing his giants. How he summons that extra chromosome like a sword, slaying the obstacles in his path. And I saw it in action first-hand this morning. 

Here's what happened... 

We'd been staying at a hotel in Louisville for three days while visiting our families. It came time to leave and I told Charley I would go sign out while he finished packing. If you know anything about that twenty-first chromosome called Down syndrome, then you know what creatures of habit they are. Routine-oriented all the way. 

As far as Charley is concerned, part of the routine of staying in a hotel is using the luggage cart to unload and re-load the car. 

When we arrived, the luggage cart was available. But when we went to check out, all the carts were in use. 

“Gweat,” he said, slapping his palms to his thighs. “No carts.” (Can’t say I blamed him. I sure wasn’t carrying all our junk to the car.)

"Sorry honey," I said. "We'll just have to wait till someone brings one back. Then we can grab it." With that, I sat down on one of the chairs and waited. And waited, while he shifted from foot to foot. Was I to stop at nothing? First, no luggage cart, then trying to bore him to death with waiting?

He looked at me, like, see ya, and headed back to the room. I figured he was going to wait there. I figured wrong. 

About three minutes later here came Charley, into the lobby carrying my hanging clothes, three bags, his swimming fins, goggles, and my makeup case. Following close behind him was a tall, husky man carrying my suitcase and a Charley’s backpack. Behind him was another man. He was carrying our cube of Coke Zeroes, my journal, some books, and a box of snacks we just had to have for our trip.

"Dis way," Charley said, pointing. The men followed. Forgive me, but my mouth dropped open.  

Here was this little guy (Charley), maybe all of 5 feet, directing these two husky six-feet or so men, and they headed outside. "Dat's my Mom," he said to the men, as they went by. "Deese my fwents, Mom."  

The men nodded at me and said, "Hiya Mom, nice to meet you." 

I don't how else to say this, but I could have dropped and rolled right there. You've got to be kidding me. 

There was only one thing left to do; follow them to the car and grovel, followed by some serious apologizing. 

"Did he con you into carrying our luggage?" I asked. 

"Not exactly," one man said. "He said he needed help, so we helped." (I could just envision Charley in the hallway of the hotel, flagging down people on their way to the lobby; “Need help here,” and pointing to the room where the mountain of luggage waited.) 

"Kanks guys," Charley said, and slapped them a high five as the three of them headed back into the hotel.  

I pulled the car around to the entrance of the hotel, thinking it would be easier for Charley and me to get the rest of our stuff. 

Um, did I say Charley and me?  

Scratch that. Because the next thing I know, Charley's emerging from the hotel with a woman following close behind, and she happened to be carrying what was left of the case of bottled waters we had brought with us. Into the back of the van it went.  

He turned and grinned at me. “See?”

Again, my chin nearly hit the ground. 

"Charley, you just can't go asking people to do things like this," I scolded. 

"Welax Mom, I got dis." 

He sure did. 

Before I knew it, the car was completely loaded, and there wasn't a luggage cart in sight. 

Now. You may think this was rude. You may think it invasive. You might even consider it demanding and inappropriate. And I suppose by most standards, it was. But I couldn't help smiling at what a problem solver my supposedly "challenged" son is. There I was, resigned to sit and wait until a luggage cart showed up; while he was busy taking care of the challenge at hand. Facing the giants.

A few minutes later we met my sister for breakfast. When we went to leave, Charley sat down in the waiting area while we paid the bill. He wasn't sitting there very long when a man approached the door pushing a stroller with a small child. I saw the man, and the waiting area filled with people. I also saw the only person who jumped up and raced to hold the door open. It was Charley.  

That was a moment of clarity for me. It wasn't that Charley was trying to con those travelers at the hotel into doing work for him. He simply needed help. He had a task at hand that seemed too much for one person, and he set about gathering his team. To him, that seemed logical. And, bless him, he didn't act like me. Not once did he issue an apology for inconveniencing them. To him, people should help people. And that's just the way it is. 

When I think of all the leadership positions I've had over the years, it makes sense. Every good leader understands team work. They also understand the concept of paying it forward. (Apparently, so does Charley). You help me, and I'll either help you, or I'll help someone else when the situation presents itself.  

It's a simple concept, really, this you help me and I'll help you mentality. And if it’s so simple, then why are we so surprised when a supposedly simple person figures it out? 

I'm embarrassed at how often I underestimate him. How little I still know about that extra chromosome called Down syndrome. But I'm equally impressed at the things he teaches me. 

Does this mean I'll recruit travelers to help me with my luggage when he isn't around? Probably not. Does it mean I won't fuss at him when he sets out recruiting his team, especially when it’s a team he’s never even met? Probably not. 

What it does mean is that I can see him in a new light; that of a person who faces his giants, whether they are people or challenges. 

It also means that when he's faced with those challenges, he's a thinker. He finds a way.

As a mother of a special needs adult, my whole life has been about facing the giants… 

• The massive preconceived notions of that extra chromosome and all the challenges that come with it. 

• The extensive health issues that often accompany Down syndrome. 

• The wide schisms that so often cause those roadblocks in his social development.  

Yes, life has its hurdles. But sometimes it takes an extra chromosome to show us all how to take a leap. 

When I think about it, the world may crumble around us, but the one left standing will be the one who doesn't cower just because the situation seems bigger than he is. 

You’ll know him when you see him. Just follow the leader. 

Sherry Palmer is the Author of Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption. Available at: Life With Charley

Thanks for visiting!

Please visit Charley on Facebook at: Life With Charley - And Down Syndrome

Angels in Disguise

In my book, Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome, I have a chapter where I talk about angels. In the chapter, titled "Pwomp and Circumstance," we are shopping for a suit for Charley to wear to the prom. Brad and I had little money to spend, so we found ourselves at Goodwill looking around. Out of nowhere, a man approaches and starts holding up clothing items for Charley to try. At the end of this post, I will include a portion of the chapter...

I've been thinking about Angels lately, and how they touch us. Angels kind of come out of nowhere, to tap us on the shoulder and remind us that life is precious. 

I've always thought of people with Down syndrome to special angels. They touch us in ways other people cannot. 

These are some of the fantastic folks from Angels in Disguise. 

Just to show you what kind of people they are...

Charley and I contacted them and let them know we were in Louisville. My mother was in the hospital, and we were in need of some serious cheering up. Before we knew it, we were having breakfast together, and Charley had a slew of new friends. 

Later, when Charley put his head on the pillow in the hotel room, he said, "Mom, I like my more fwents."

I said, "How could you not?" 

He wasn't alone. I like them too. Charley knows who likes him and who doesn't. He knows who tolerates him and who wants to be his friend. 

We found a restaurant full of friends that day.

Today we are celebrating our new friends, by posting some photos and adding their Angels in Disguise link to our sidebar. Please give them a visit, won't you? This is a fabulous group of people who celebrate the gift of Down syndrome. 

Thanks Angels in Disguise, for making us feel so welcome...you made Charley very happy! And well, you know the drill...when Mama's happy, everybody's happy!

As promised, here is an excerpt from Life with Charley. 

Charley’s Angel 

You know how some things keep coming back to you long after they’ve happened? That’s what happened to me, and I’ve played it over and over in my mind. I thought I was hearing things when Jordan said she’d been the one to ask Charley to the prom. “But Jordan, you can go with anyone,” I’d said to her. “I don’t want to go with anyone,” she’d said. 

Oh, me of little faith. How could I have doubted him? What gives me the right to assume he can’t get a date just because he has DS? Why wouldn’t someone be thrilled to be with him? He’s the most fun person I know. Apparently, Jordan thought so too. 

It’s been nearly six months since that day. Since Jordan asked him to her junior prom. Since she became his reason to breathe. And now, here we are, just three weeks from the big day. But first we have to make it through spring break, and I can’t think of a better way than to take him shopping for a tuxedo. Problem is, we can’t afford one. There’s a Goodwill store down the road, and I’ve seen some suits there, so off we go. As his luck would have it, there are no tuxes. As my luck would have it, Charley doesn’t care if it’s a tux or not. 

Brad’s at work this morning, unable to join us for this outing, but that’s okay. He’s elected to take Charley shoe shopping later in the week. Meanwhile, Charley and I are standing at the coat rack in the back of the store. “I don’t know, Son, you’ll just have to try them all.” 

He tries on three or four, but nothing works, when out of nowhere there’s a man standing next to us. He’s a tall man, well over six feet I’m sure, and he’s dressed in khakis and a polo shirt. I have no idea where he came from, but there he is, picking items off the rack, though barely looking at them. I notice he’s watching Charley. 

“I go pwomp,” Charley says to the man, like he’s known him for years. “Oh?” “Yeah. Me, Jordan.”

I tell the man Charley’s looking for a coat to wear to the prom.

The man takes a blazer off the rack and hands it to me. “Have him try this one,” he says. 

Charley puts it on but the sleeves come down past his hands. The man hands us another. Then another. They are all too long. Until the last one. It turns out to be Charley’s size but, oops, there’s a skirt with it. 

“Oh for pity’s sake, it’s a girl’s suit,” I say to Charley. 

“I like it,” he says, and sure enough it’s a perfect fit. 

The man says, “Just don’t tell anyone and they’ll never know.”

The next thing I know the man is helping us look for a shirt and tie, and Charley is all set with a “tussado” for the prom. 

“I like him,” Charley says. “Tell the man thank you.” Charley says, “Can I keep him?” 

I look at Charley for a split second. “He’s not a puppy.” The two of us laugh, but when I turn my head back so see the man’s reaction, he’s gone. 

“Where’d he go?” I ask Charley. Charley shrugs his shoulders. “I no know. Wheh is he?”

“Son, tell me the truth. There was a man here, just a second ago. Right?”

***

This is where I’ll stop for now. If you want to know what happens you’ll need to read the book. You can find it here:

Life With Charley

***Thanks for visiting our Life With Charley blog. Please, come back often! 

Blog Z - Guest Post

If this is your first visit to my blog, please take a moment and read my recent guest post on Blog Z. Thanks!

https://zharmaeblog.wordpress.com/2015/07/31/finding-comfort-inspiration-in-the-pages-of-a-journal/

Life with Charley Book Launch for World Down Syndrome Day on Live at 5 at 4

Look at Charley on TV!

He is quite excited about the book, but equally excited that he was able to say hi to his friends on TV.

Great job, Charley Palmer! Click on the link below to view!

http://www.wbir.com/media/cinematic/video/25043477/life-with-charley-explores-down-syndrome/

 

You can find Life with Charley on Amazon, or ask your local bookseller if they can order it for you.

Thanks!

"Our World" Day

Life With Charley Giveaway...

Announcing our World Down Syndrome Day "Life With Charley" Giveaway. Hurry, contest ends March 21st. Here's the link: 

http://giveawaytools2.com/giveaway.php?sk=51346681081

There’s a reason we celebrate World Down Syndrome Day, Trisomy 21 Day, or in our house, as we call it, “Our World Day”. (March 21, 2015).

How else could we raise awareness of God’s gift to humanity?

I say this without reservation. There are people in this world who have no idea how what a gift people with DS are. Worse, there are those individuals who would use the “R” word in reference to these people we love so much. 

We can only pity those people. First, for their cruelty, and second, because they have been deprived.

Pity they don’t know the fun that comes with DS. The uninhibited, unbridled dancing in the street. The silliness. The laughter. The funny little jokes they play on us.

Pity they don’t know the loyalty. 

The got-your-back-no-matter-what, warts and all.

The “Dis is my Mom,” and “Dis is my Dad” pride in their voice when they introduce us to strangers in the grocery store.

The I-love-you-anyway bottomless way they forgive us for our imperfections. 

The unconditional acceptance. The gentle kisses and the arms around our necks.

The simple, no nonsense dialog, and the continual efforts to make us understand when we can’t decipher what they have tried to articulate for the umpteenth time.

I’ve known people with Down syndrome all my life, even way before we adopted Charley. I believe I have earned the right to say that there has never been a more generous person than the one who lives in my house.

Charley is 24 years old now. For twenty-four years, Brad and I have been celebrating him. And yes, we have been celebrating his Down syndrome and everything that means to our lives.

If God gives me another 24 years of Trisomy 21, I will continue to count myself the most blessed person in the world.

Why? Because every day in our house is World Down Syndrome Day. Because Charley is “our world”. And that indeed,is something to celebrate.

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For information about World Down Syndrome Day, 2015, please visit https://www.worlddownsyndromeday.org/

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Sherry McCaulley Palmer is the author of, Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption.

 http://www.amazon.com/Life-With-Charley-Sherry-Palmer/dp/1937365700/ref=tmm_pap_title_0

Countdown to Gatlinburg...Hat's Out of the Bag!

Packing...

Jeans, "wonderwear," socks, the cat.

The CAT?

How do you pack a cat?

The answer is, you don't have to. They pack themselves. Just unzip the suitcase, and in they go.

Until, they are ousted. And ousted, it was.

More packing. Long johns, toothbrush, toothpaste, jeans for the dance. And, of course, the essentials - CD player, music CDs, batteries. You know, the stuff that matters.

Last night I posted on Facebook, a picture of him in his newly knitted hat. I never could have imagined the support I would have received from my knitting friends at Knitting 3, and on Charley's page. Post after post, the comments poured in. They were mostly about Charley, cheering him on, wishing him luck in the Olympics. What a great bunch of friends! 

Charley will be leaving today at 1:30 and heading to Ober Gatlinburg where he will compete in speed skating (and most likely, flash dating).


But first, there's this thing about the hat. The weird, pointed, alfalfa hat.

 I've been knitting this hat for a year. Bottom line is, I hate knitting hats. I knit other things such as fingerless gloves, cowls, shawls, ponchos, socks, and scarves. But hats? Well, let's just say for me to even consider knitting a hat is a major labor of love.

Not sure what propelled me to finish it. Maybe I took leave of my senses and all of a sudden thought I could actually do it. Maybe I fashioned I wouldn't get caught by the fashion police.

Or, maybe it was something deeper than that. Maybe I wanted him to take a little piece of me with him to the slopes in Gatlinburg. Or at the very least, when he reaches up to pull his hat down and it slips off his head, maybe I want him to know his Mom is rooting for him.

Maybe the thought that I slovenly allowed last year's Special Olympics to come and go while the half-knitted hat hibernated in the knitting bag. The very thought that I sent him off on his trip without a special gift from me. Bad Mom!

But in my defense, I was recovering from that accident. A convenient excuse if there ever was one. Thing is, there wasn't a thing wrong with my fingers...last I heard, my fingers weren't in a body cast.

Truth is, I just couldn't seem to get it done. Last year I saw the date approaching and well, just couldn't seem to make it across the finish line.

Where were my priorities? I'll tell you where they were, they were with my successes.

The things I'd knitted that actually worked. That grey wrap. The one that makes me think I actually look like that model in the picture wearing it. Yeah, that's the one. Or, the peacock-colored poncho (the one made with the  yarn my sister mailed to me to cheer me up after my accident). Or, the fingerless mittens made out of that alpaca. The scarf with those handmade clay beads.

Those...those were the compliment magnets. Those things us knitters consider music to our ears...

I love your scarf!

Did you make those beads?

That wrap is so elegant!

How long did it take you to make that?

 Yep, it's all about the successes. Those things that make us look good. Or, at least those things that make us THINK we look good. It's all about the bragging rights.

So as I sat down last week and began furiously knitting my fingers off on Charley's red hat (yet again), it occurred to me...I couldn't knit a hat if my life depended on it. And why? Because I hate patterns. Just give me two sticks and a string and let me knit. If it ends up being something then let the bragging begin. If not, I can always cram it back into the bag where it lives. At least, until the next attempt.

Something else occurred to me though. I was knitting this for the one person who never gives up. The bravest person I know.

As I thought about that my fingers knitted faster. I stopped for coffee. Bathroom break. lunch. But that's it. I would finish that hat. I wouldn't give up. He would have that red hat. Or, else.

At one point he came out of his room and walked over to me. "Mom, what doin'?"

"Hat's out of the bag!" I announced. "See?" I held it up. It looked like a red thing. Not a hat, but a thing.

I guess he could see it was important to me. "Oh. Nice!" he said, and started to walk away.

"Want to try it on?"

His face said, "Not exactly." But his hand reached for the hat.

Down over his eyes, it traveled, swallowing his face.

"I'll get it done before Special Olympics, I promise."

He took the hat off and smiled at me, like, It doesn't fit, but whatever you say, Mom.

"It's my special present to you, Charley."

Thing is, was it a present for him? Or was I working on bragging rights? I've never successfully knitted a hat. Not one time. Would this be that time? Would I cross that finish line with an actual hat?

The motto of the Special Olympics is, Let me win. But if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt.

When I thought of all those special Olympians who cross the finish line with a smile on their faces whether they win or not, I couldn't help but keep on knitting. And smiling.

How many of us smile when we don't win? When our plans don't quite work out the way we planned? When the bragging rights deflate like a party balloon that's lost it's happy gas. When the knitted hats don't work?

Oh how much the rest of us dweebs can learn from them! Oh what they teach us about being brave. About crossing that finish line with our heads held high.

...about being brave in the attempt.

Thank you Special Olympians everywhere. Thank you, thank you, Charley.

Thank you for wearing my failure on top of your head and wearing it proudly with that contagious grin. Thank you for making me more important in your eyes than the perfection of a hat. Someone on the Facebook Knitting 3 site said it looked like a Hershey's Kiss. I'll take it.

You, Charley Palmer, deserve all the kisses you can get. You, Charley, keep me in stitches every day.

So go. Board the bus in that silly red hat. Have the time of your life. Whoop and holler, and slap those high-fives. Be proud, Olympian.

And when you cross that finish line, keep on going.

Remind us what it means to be brave in the attempt. What it really means to be a winner.

And about those bragging rights? They are on the lips of your mother. And believe me, they have nothing to do with the hat.

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Sherry McCaulley Palmer is the author of: Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption, available at http://www.amazon.com/Life-With-Charley-Syndrome-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00O29FJB0

 

 

 

 

 

 

Preacher's Son Apprehended. A-rest to Follow

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                                                       Busted!

Knoxville, TN. 

In the wee hours of Saturday, Precinct 8612 in Jefferson County received a frantic phone call reporting a break-in at the home of the Reverend Brad Palmer. 

Roving reporter Matilda Farnsworth was on the scene of the crime, where the Preacher's wife stated that just after 3:00 a.m. she heard the sound of her son's bedroom door opening, followed by a flash of light. Moments later she found the refrigerator door ajar, and that's when she knew there'd been a break-in.

In an exclusive interview, Mrs. Palmer said she noticed her 24-year old son moving in a suspicious manner through the hallway, then disappearing into his room. She asked if anything was wrong to which he replied, "I got dis..."

When questioned as to whether anything was missing, she stated "Only the milk."

According to Farnsworth, the Reverend's son has been known to raid the refrigerator at all hours of the night. "I'm not one to cry over spilt milk, but I just can't help it," she told Farnsworth. "When Charley says he's got dis, he means he's got milk," stated the Mrs., adding, "Not only has he made off with our milk, he killed our breakfast. The kid is a cereal murderer."

Numerous warnings were issued, including yelling, "Stop Thief!" However, attempts to keep her son out of the fridge in the middle of the night were unsuccessful.

Further details are unavailable at this time, but the Preacher's wife did disclose that future plans for imposing a kitchen curfew along with a refrigerator lockdown are underway, and that her husband slept through the entire occurrence. 

No charges were filed but the 8612 Precinct Insomnia Police have offered her an all expense paid trip to Sleepy Town. The Preacher's wife stated that she looks forward to an a-rest just as soon as she returns from the Loony Bin.

                                                              * * *

Sherry McCaulley Palmer is the author of Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption, available at: 

http://www.amazon.com/Life-With-Charley-Syndrome-Adoption-ebook/dp/B00O29FJB0

The following is a review from Amazon:

Three Cheers for Charley! October 15, 2014

By Sandi Hutcheson (Author, Looks Great Naked)

"There are times when we just have to hold our breath and jump in," Sherry Palmer writes of the decision she and her husband, Brad, made in 1990 to adopt a baby with Down Syndrome. Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome recounts their joyful journey, and it is a beautiful story. Palmer is a gifted storyteller whose honesty and candor and all-out love for her son will earn her readers' deepest respect. You'll laugh, you'll cringe, you'll wonder how she does it, and you'll hope for the pleasure of someday meeting Charley and his parents in person."

                                                                           *  *  *

To visit Sandi's Amazon page, please follow this link: http://www.amazon.com/Looks-Great-Naked-Sandi-Hutcheson-ebook/dp/B00AW4DDUS

God Things

For some reason, this post will not maintain a consistent font size throughout. That's okay though, as long as you have x-ray vision toward the end of the post. Though tiny, I mean it just as much as the rest of the post - maybe even more. God things come in good packages. Don't adjust your screen - that wasn't a typo. I meant to say God things. Chromosomes are God things.

Sometimes I look into the eyes of my precocious, funny, sweet-natured, son and wonder how the world got so lucky.  How did I get so lucky? God must have loved us all so much to have handed out those God things known as extra chromosomes. True, they aren't for everyone. Only a select few are to know the wonder. The forever innocence. The dance of Down syndrome. 

"But Sherry, you don't know the heartache of waiting 9 months for the perfect child only to have your hopes and dreams crushed by a An extra chromosome called Down Syndrome," you might say.

That's true. Those of you who know me already know my story, how Charley came to live with us. 
Just because I didn't wait for 9 months for the perfect baby doesn't mean I didn't want one. The thing is, in my opinion, I got one. 

When I read about that nut case in Denmark who thought it would benefit the world if those who have been blessed with an extra chromosome were eliminated from the human race, I wept. Then I went directly to Amazon and purchased Mardra Sikora's essay, "Arguing Eugenics." 

Want to know more about this heated issue? Mardra explains it in this well-written essay that is grounded in research and personal experience, Mardra Sikora's "Arguing Eugenics" extends beyond the subject of genetic testing (for the purpose creating a society free from the burden of Down syndrome) and into the heart of a world in danger of eliminating much more than an extra chromosome. As a writer and mother of a young adult with Down syndrome myself, I applaud Sikora's ability to lay out the facts while making the reader think with their hearts through the logic of her son Marcus.

"Arguing Eugenics"(You can find it on Amazon), takes a subject often written about in medical and technical terms, and fine tunes the lens to so those unfamiliar with Down syndrome can see clearly how whole communities would suffer the consequences of eliminating often the most compassionate among us. If I were to sum it up, I would wager to say that a world without Down syndrome is a world in danger of reducing itself to breathing in and out. While Sikora does not glamorize naïveté regarding special needs individuals, be it children with cancer or those who are born with spinal bifida, rather, she is a realist who sees the value in every human life, while charging the rest of us to do the same. What gives anyone the right to decide who has value and who does not? What gives anyone the right to decide that another human being is a burden? I agree with Sikora one-hundred percent, no one has the right to set that criteria. Not Denmark, not anyone.

I found Sikora's essay to be an invaluable piece of research delivered with wisdom. Mostly, however, I found it to be a fair synopsis of the lives faced everyday by special needs families. There is no perfect person. Aiming for a perfect world filled with only perfect people (which means a world without that extra chromosome) is no world I want to live in. I cannot imagine a world without the unconditional love of individuals with Down syndrome. Apparently, neither can Sikora.

There is a society, however that does not agree. If Denmark is knocking on that door, I say don't open it. Be very afraid. When one knocks others do too. Before we know it, Down syndrome will cease to exist, and so will life as we know it for our loved ones who are game changers.

The choice is ours. Want a perfect world? Step right up. Get your one-way ticket to Denmark. Personally, I'd rather count my God things. My chromosomes. Want a world of perfect unconditional love and acceptance? Then send in the Down. Rock on, Marcus. Be that agent of change that Sikora writes about. Be that God thing. And listen up folks, don't even think of sweeping this one under the rug. Sikora is in the house.

We adopted Charley twenty-four years ago at Christmas time. Believe me, there is nothing you could wrap and stick under the tree that could come close to the gift God game me that day. It was the perfect God-thing gift. Did we know what to expect? What to do? How do do it? No. 

But here's one thing I do know. When I count my blessings, I count God-things. That includes chromosomes.

Merry Christmas to me.

                                             

Sherry Palmer is the author of "Life With Charley: A Memoir of Down Syndrome Adoption" (available at Amazon)