“They are not laughing at you Jilly. They are laughing at me.”

I was recently scrolling through Facebook and a post caught my attention. A woman was asking/making a statement, “I just don’t understand why a baby just can’t be delivered to save a mother of whatever health issue a baby is causing to endanger her life. What is the point of killing the baby? The baby can still live and so can the mother.” As you can imagine, she received all kinds of responses. One comment stood out to me. It has since been removed, but the woman was defending the right to choose to kill a baby based on their known disabilities. Her reasoning came from her past experience with working in a “home” with these “disabled” individuals. In her opinion, their lives weren’t worth living. There were several people that shared her opinion. I wasn’t as surprised that she felt that way, (it seems like many people do) as I was that she admitted it in writing for all to read. Having a lack of compassion is one thing, promoting it is another. Had she been raised to believe that way? Was that type of thinking just a natural outcome from the lack of intentionally training her to be kind to all people?

I thought of my childhood and the perspective my experiences gave me. I am so thankful for my story. My mother was very compassionate. Her life was sometimes complicated but her strength came from her genuine concern and compassion for others. She loved big. She didn’t hesitate to correct me when I was being unkind or selfish. I still remember her saying, “If you don’t have enough for everyone, do not eat it in front of them!” “If you are not willing to share then don’t get that out!” “Always stand up to a bully even if you are the only one standing!” “Be kind.” I think of my little girls. Lord, help me to raise them to love like you love, to see people as you see them, to be compassionate.

“Finally, be ye all of one mind, having compassion one of another, love as brethren, be pitiful, be courteous:” (1 Peter 3:8 )

My mother’s younger sister had Down Syndrome. I don’t remember ever being curious or asking what that meant. She spoke a little different than the rest of us. She sometimes needed a wheelchair when she got tired. She walked slow and was a little wobbly on her feet. As a little girl I had no idea she was “disabled.” She was my family, my friend. I loved her and she loved me. She was 20 when I was born. My mother and her were only a few years apart, so she was like my second mother but also my peer. We grew up together.

When I was a little girl she still liked playing with dolls, board games and her swing set. So naturally we played together. She loved television. We watched Charlie’s Angels, Mork And Mindy, Three’s Company, oh and we loved The Love Boat! She loved Strawberry Quik and Sunkist pop and so did I. She did not love my curly hair. She always seemed to want to “fix” it. She would brush my hair until it looked like a frizzy, lion’s mane then proclaim, “That’s much better!” She would also give me my “adjustments.”

My Aunt went weekly to the chiropractor. My Grandmama believed that an “adjustment” was the answer to every ailment. Therefore, my Aunt Teresa went often and was basically an expert. If I had a problem she would say, “Jilly, lay down! You need an adjustment!” And if she said so, I listened! I do remember lying flat on my stomach, as she snapped and popped my neck, thinking, “I wonder if I should let her do this? She’s not REALLY a doctor.”

My mind is flooded with these good memories. Like her teaching my sisters and I to dance like the “Solid Gold dancers.” One time she got some Lottery scratch off tickets. She started yelling that she was a winner. No one really believed that she had won. We didn’t even know she knew how to play! She kept saying, “Thank you God. I am a winner!” “Girls, your aunt is good!” When we checked her ticket, she really had won! She insisted on taking the whole family out for dinner, and “I am paying!” She was a gift to my family, not a “disability.” She taught us all how to love unconditionally. We are each unique and that is what makes us beautiful. God doesn’t make mistakes. He is the Creator of all.

“For thou hast possessed my reins: thou hast covered me in my mother's womb. I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. My substance was not hid from thee, when I was made in secret, and curiously wrought in the lowest parts of the earth. Thine eyes did see my substance, yet being unperfect; and in thy book all my members were written, which in continuance were fashioned, when as yet there was none of them.” (Psalms 139:13-16)

I believe those words! I want to raise my children to believe those words. I want to lead my children by my example. Be kind. Always be kind. It will make a difference. My mother worked at a residential home for the developmentally disabled. She loved her “guys.” I often stopped after school to talk to my mother at that home. My mother was a natural caregiver. Those guys were her friends. She was never uncomfortable around them, just like they were her family. I am so thankful for her example. Both of my sisters grew up to choose career paths in fields that support the developmentally disabled in their communities. I know it is because of our childhood, our mother and our family.

About 10 years ago I spent the summer with my sister. She lives in Kotzebue, Alaska, a village about 200 miles north of Nome. At the time she worked in a residential home similar to the one my mother worked at, only smaller. Every day I would walk to visit my sister at work. She is also a natural caregiver, very much like my mother. She loved her guys too! They were her family and her friends. I noticed something different in that Alaskan village. Everybody loved her guys. They were a vital part of their community. They weren’t considered different in a negative or uncomfortable way. They were family and accepted by all. I still remember going shopping with my sister and one of her friends, a big guy named James. He was greeted in that small-town store by every person he saw. He was LOVED by his community. James had a best buddy named Bert that lived in the same home. I can still see those two sitting on the couch watching tv like any ordinary best friends. Their home was peaceful and comforting. Their rooms were decorated with thoughtfulness and love, like any cherished child’s room would be. They were part of a family and a community and they knew it too! I learned a lot from that little Alaskan community.

One night my Aunt Teresa asked me to go to the movies with her. Just a girl’s night for the two of us. I will never forget that night as long as I live. We got ready together. She let me borrow her perfume. She loved her expensive perfume. I fixed her hair and even put some makeup on her. We were then dropped off at the movies, bought our own tickets, popcorn and drinks. Oh, how fun it was for her to be out without parents! We picked our seats, settled in and enjoyed that movie. I remember her laugh, her smiling. The movie had ended and we were trying to follow the crowd to the exit. People were pushing on us from all sides. It had been a sold-out movie. My aunt was a little uneasy on her feet. She was short with a big backside and carried that figure on tiny feet. As I tried to hold her hand to steady her, the crowd started to get pushier and somewhat irritated at her slow pace through the exit doors. All of a sudden, I felt a physical push, and an angry, “OH MY GOD, MOVE!!!” And then I heard laughing. I don’t know if it was my love for her, my fear she would fall, or just the shock that people could be so mean but I quickly turned around and started shouting at them, “Stop pushing her!! Back up!! What is wrong with you?!” To be honest I think my adrenaline took over and I don’t remember what else I shouted. What I do remember was my aunt’s reaction, “Jilly, Jilly! You look at me!! They are NOT laughing at YOU! They are laughing at ME!!” Those words will be forever burned in my mind. She knew. She had had a lifetime of encounters similar to that, being pushed around and being laughed at all because she was different, beautiful and valuable, but different. I changed that night. I silently made a promise to my beloved aunt that night, “I will always stand up for those who cannot defend themselves. I will not follow the crowd when the crowd is wrong!”

I remember the first time I read the Bible through from cover to cover. I made a list of the attributes of God and I started to fall in love with Him. He is love. He is the great judge. He is compassionate. He is a father to the fatherless. He is the defender of the weak. We as His people are supposed to look more like Him and less like the crowd around us. We are supposed to defend the weak, the fatherless and the widows.

“A father of the fatherless, and a judge of the widows, is God in his holy habitation. God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains.” (Psalms 68:5-6)

I want to encourage the mothers and fathers reading this. Parent with purpose. Train your children to be kind and compassionate. Look for opportunities to serve with them. Stand up for the weak when your children are watching and listening. Defend those who cannot defend themselves. Raise your children to positively impact their community and their sphere of influence. Don’t allow your children to be mean. Train them to be givers. My children know they are loved and cherished. They also know that because I love them, I will correct them. I sit here watching my little girls. They think they are their baby brother’s second mommies. They love him! I look at him and think of my dear aunt. Thank you, God! You are a good Father! You have given this priceless gift to my family. My girls WILL know to be kind to ALL people. They will see the beauty in your creation, every unique part.

“O Lord, how manifold are thy works! in wisdom hast thou made them all: the earth is full of thy riches.” (Psalms 104:24)

Jilly