This Down syndrome blog post is about what the military life and Down syndrome have taught us, military down syndrome.
It was a cool night, the crackling fire and glass of red wine were adding the perfect amount of warmth as my husband and I engaged in one of life’s deeper discussions. If we could change anything about our lives, would we?
When we were newly engaged, I pictured our lives one way: a home not too far from family, perfectly healthy kids, a morning anchor gig. There was no plan b, it was the only plan.
When I was a junior in college, an Atlanta News Director spoke to some of us Broadcast majors. When he was starting out in TV, he told his mentor he only wanted to be a sports reporter. His mentor replied, “You’re looking at your career from the wrong end of the telescope.”
At the time, I was almost offended by his friend’s words. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be a reporter, I thought. There isn’t, by the way. But now, I see what his advisor was saying.
It was the fact that he could only envision his life as a sports reporter. He wasn’t open to other possibilities.
I had no idea how small my own vision really was. I was looking at my future from the wrong end of the telescope.
Both the military and Down syndrome provided me with the greatest lesson I’ve learned so far: life is meant to be big.
I don’t mean big in the way American culture would have us believe. It’s not about having big success, so you can buy big things to impress big people. But big experiences. The kind that shape us. The kind we can use to help others.
Both Down syndrome and the military have thrown us curveballs. Both have taken us places we have never been. Both have introduced us to people we would never have met. Both have opened our eyes to a world beyond our best-laid plans.
Our son’s Trisomy 21 and the Air Force have taught us that predictability is sometimes over-rated. What good story was ever predictable? It’s the twists and turns, the challenges and over-coming that keep us turning the pages.
In the book of my life, I never would have listed “Down syndrome” or “Unwanted base locations” in the table of contents. But because they were written for me, my chapters have become more interesting, sometimes painful, but also more beautiful. Now, when I look through the lens gazing into the future, I no longer see a set life, but instead infinite opportunities among the cosmos.
