The Day After Our 4th Annual Buddy Walk

Dear Friends,

I write today because I cannot contain the joy, the love, and the strong connection community brings. Yesterday was our 4th Annual Buddy Walk for Down Syndrome. We had the template on our minds for a year, with organization starting six months ago. As chairperson of this event, my responsibilities covered securing permits to organizing a committee of five. The jobs unclaimed, weighed on my shoulders; the sponsors, the caterer, the nonprofits for the Resource Fair, the details of pulling an event for 600 people together.

The detailed work and communications, the "To Do" lists spilled in organized piles across my desk, the stress of securing two portable toilets and a sink-washing station just six days prior to our event...all were silent when I received the phone call from a woman who got my number from a genetic counselor. My mind stopped tallying up lists and actively listened to her voice. I resonated with her tentative words and sat down in a comfortable chair at my dining room table. I was there for her, completely and honestly hers, to listen and to respond to her.

I had experienced sitting in a genetic counselor's office and being told the news about my baby's AFP (Alpha Fetal Protein) blood test. I had seen the ultrasound images of my baby's heart with the congenital defect, called AV Canal. I had made the choice to wrap my arms around my belly and hold on to my child with a stronger conviction to maintain a healthy attitude about my pregnancy of 20 weeks. Oh, I was there for her. This woman would make it. Her baby, her husband, her family would all make it, too. And, I said a silent prayer that God would change their lives for the better of a result of this child.

Our committee arrived at the darkened park at 6:00 a.m., our usual time for set-up for our Buddy Walks in the past. The rain poured all night, but left us feeling hopeful for a clear day. The gazebo area was the only lit area, and we used it as the hub of activity for storing all of the boxes, tents, and tables as they were unloaded from the truck. By 6:20 a.m. the sprinkles started. My hood went up and my jacket remained open. By 6:30 a.m. the sound of pounding rain pulled on my heart strings, "Lord, this is your day. Let this turn out for all of the children and parents coming today."

We shifted our game plan in a moment's notice. We set up one tent at a time, one person on each corner, inside the gazebo. We carried the tent outside in the rain and extended the poles to the full height, clicked into place, and began again with a new tent. Ten tents surrounded the gazebo area making the space much larger and safe from drenching rain. I noticed the light of day outside when we had finished this task. The lanterns we had brought were turned off. The volunteers were starting to stream in and assemble in specific areas. By 10:00 a.m. the registration tables, the carnival games, the nonprofits for the Resource Fair, and the food line was set up for operation. The sun started breaking through the clouds as a sign that our trust was exactly what was needed.

I met Laura at 10:30 a.m. She was bright and shining with pregnant radiance. We hugged and I knew exactly why we worked as hard as we do to bring all of these families together. I hugged her husband, James, and told him he would feel like a part of a new family today. Each passing parent I knew was introduced and asked to share their story with this new family. I moved away to check in at different areas, to hug, to greet, to catch up with friends and family I hadn't seen for a while.

The high school seniors we are mentoring this year to work with our support group were with us all the while. They showed up: one with a sore throat, and before the soccer game he would coach, one before her SAT test, one ready to go for the day, and three more after their SAT's. They worked with us, doing carnival jobs, food line, and talent show intermission facts about Down syndrome. They played, they danced, they smiled, and they hugged. At the very end of the day we stood around a woman who had just had her 60th birthday in April. Her name was Gail, and she had Down syndrome. I introduced the students and told them special things that I had learned that day about this woman. I knew she loved to dance. Her wonderful aunt and friend were with her to share the day and learn even more about ways to enhance her life and advocate for her.

Before we said good bye I asked the seniors if they wanted a chance to hug this wonderful woman. Each one took their turn, as tears formed in my eyes. We had all been given a beautiful gift today. The rain that drew us close together, the sunshine that paved the way for our one-mile walk, the delicious catered Mexican food, and the connection of many hearts through the children and adults with Down syndrome and all of the community of friends.

love,
Diane