What exactly are the reasons?

“Things” happen and I think we, as a people, seem to ignore exactly what is going on; plowing forward and keeping our little world going; maintaining the life that fuels our patterns of behaviors; repeating the sins of the past - is there a reason for all this?

When I sit at a stop light, I watch everyone driving by. I look at the faces hidden behind sunglasses; chatting away on the phone; or cursing the person in front of them. Do they look for reasons? Do they hear what’s spoken to them? Do they wrestle, like me, with the meaning of the whole damned thing? Or…or….do they drive and ignore the signs?

If my child gets a cold, what is the reason? Too much sugar? Bad hygiene?

If I loose my keys, what is the reason? Air headed? Lazy? Or maybe they fell behind the cabinet so I could see that I dropped $10 down there three months ago.

If my child is born with Down Syndrome, is there a reason? Punishment? Reward? Roll of the dice? Genes?

If someone lies to me, what could be the reason? Rage? Fear? Sadness? Spite? Stupidity?

Why are these cows crossing the road when I am in such a hurry?

After many, many hours of contemplating this, I think I’ve come up with THE reason - THE REASON FOR ALL OF IT.

What on earth! One reason?

Yes.

Stop the cars. Shut off the cell phones and go ahead, let that guy in front of your car in (what could it hurt..I mean really?)….
Oh yes, back to THE REASON. The only reason why anything happens is so for this:
The truth. How in the world does a child’s cold relate to the truth? Or Down Syndrome? Or misplaced keys? Or pokey cows?
Ok, give me one more minute to explain. It goes like this:

If my child gets a cold and I have to face the fact that, yes, I do give my kid sugar-filled, high fructose corn syrup juices on a daily bases, and I might have to admit that this is not a good thing and have to start giving the child good, clean water instead.

If I loose my keys, I may have to admit to the fact that I am air-headed and will not take control of this part of my life because in fact if I become organized, I might also have to admit that my life, overall, is not working very well.

If my child is born with Down Syndrome: I have to accept that I have a child with special needs that may have mental retardation, major and many minor medical problems, speech defects, and other issues that can overwhelm - and if we’re not ready - rip a family apart.

If someone lies to me: I have to look at the fact that someone, often a person close to me, has chosen to lie and hide something from me. Are the lies little, medium or super sized? If I confront the lies, what does that mean for me? Can I live with someone that lies? Why did I choose this person in the first place? Can someone that lies change? And, do I continue this friendship, job, acquaintance, or marriage?

If cows cross the road just as I’m leaving to catch a plane I might have to admit that I rush things, push myself and others too hard. Maybe I over schedule; or maybe I just need to look at a cow and appreciate it’s fine beauty because I no longer stop and smell the roses.

You see, the reason always come back to the truth - the truth about everything. And the world becomes so much clearer when we know what we are dealing with inside ourselves. It’s all downhill from there because as you know, everything happens for a reason.

As I drove my daughter to her theater class, she asked me why sometimes people live in their cars.

We had watched The Pursuit of Happiness with Will Smith the night before, which I thought was just spiffy. Anyway….

I saw my chance to "talk" about a group of sensitive subjects: homelessness; the vulnerability of our lives and how quickly things can change; fortitude to move through difficult times; and goodness knows what other issues I began weaving into a piece of what I was sure was going to be brilliant parenting.

I paused, and there was a bit of silence. Then my daughter asked:

What about those cars with refridgerators and stoves and bathrooms in them?

Oh, I said. RVs?

Yeah, she said. Do people drive around in them?

Yes. Some people like to see a lot of places so they drive around in these cars that are like miniature homes.

I continued driving the windy road and realized that sometimes I just talk too much. The best answer comes by listening in the first place.

The power of La Bamba continues to spread in our house. Addison, who can wave a mean hello and goodbye, now claps. Not a big, fat applause like adults. No, he gently pads his too hands together. Only the palms hit; his fingers bend back. There is no sound. Except of course for all the gushing comments of adoration from the people that see him perform.

He began all this clapping the other day while we were in the pool. He was standing on my hands and looking quite tall, when I started singing La Bamba. He splashed the water with fervor and then clapped to the tune. He beamed with pride and looked so tall. He’d rest for a minute, and then he’d smile big and his bottom teeth would show. I’d start singing, and he’d start clapping again.

I think I might have to start a cult, or at least a rumor, of the healing powers of La Bamba.

Since I’ve moved into a new home, it is a bit smaller, well quite a bit smaller, than my old one. But it gives me a chance to look at life from a brand new perspective. And I get to have a whole new batch of goodies to be grateful for.

I can see the mountains lit up at night as I type this.

I can now walk to get my groceries and to the movie plaza.

I get to plant a new garden.

My daughter has a new friend that is just a drive-way away.

For some reason, the cockroaches die all by themselves here. Every morning there’s a few on their backs - dead - so at least I don’t have to kill them.

Since my garage is also my laundry room, the car serves also as a clothes line and a place to dry the plastic animals after a kiddie pool is put away.

And above all, I have peace.

In the past three years, there were many times I thought I was going to die. Not metaphorically, literally. I felt it would just be a matter of time until I was just skin and bones. Ashes to ashes dust to dust. Medical problems happen to every kid. Allergies, asthma, leaky adenoids, heart problems, and ear infections plague mounds of children, but with Down Syndrome medical problems are almost a certainty. This is part of the sorrow I faced when my son was born. I knew the pain had just begun. After a pregnancy riddled with agony, I received the news that my son had Down Syndrome when I was in again in pain; drugged from anesthesia; and it would be years before it ended. Not metaphorically, literally.

I remember a night so difficult, a night my son couldn’t breath, again. It had been a particularly bad stretch: months without more than two hours of sleep at a time. I couldn’t move my right arm because a muscle had snapped from all the hours of holding Addison and patting his back to help him breath; I ran to the toilet to vomit, but nothing came up. I choked and coughed and hobbled back to the bed; my son began to cry and I screamed out to the ceiling: Is this when I am supposed to die? I’m not afraid! It’s life that’s got me terrified. Take me. Death must be better than this.

I didn’t die that night. (Suppose you figured that one out.) And, there’s no wonderful ending to this story; an angel didn’t appear; no bells chimed. It took two years to end the misery of my sleep deprivation. It was difficult for anyone to understand. People would look at me and wrinkle their eyebrows and try as best they could to sympathize. But it was if I had AIDS: They knew it wasn’t catchy, but just in case it was better to keep "a distance." Someone told me depriving people of sleep was even against the Geneva convention. Torture.

Facing death is life from the inside out. But that’s the funny thing…we’re all facing death…at any moment we could slip on that bar of soap or get hit by a semi-truck or drown in the neighbor’s pool. But we’re a stubborn bunch, us humans. When people tell me that Down Syndrome children are dropped into our lives as angels - gifts of light - I wanted to kick them in the teeth. Not metaphorically, literally. I didn’ t ask for this! This isn’t fair!

But I did ask for it. I asked for a life of love; I asked for a life of music and joy; I asked for courage; serenity; and humor. And during the nights with this little boy, I found it.

Not metaphorically. Literally.

Oh, what pushover I am. Add a little Will Smith; a challenging day at the physical therapist; too many cheap candies left over from Halloween, a bit of wine and an elephant currtain (explain that one later)….

If I died today, don’t ask: would I be happy?, rather ask: did I give it my all? Because that my friends is happiness.

When the witch came to the door, the kids went running. Our neighbors lined up relatives to dole out candy. I put 1/3 of the children in my car as we followed kitty and batman (and the chaufer) around the windy streets of our town. Addison, the smallest of the bunch handled the witch the best. He just stared and stared. The kitty and Batman took cover behind their respective parents.

Since we can’t walk around our neighborhood, each stop required getting kids out of the cars. Addison is heavy, and we navigated his weight up and down rain soaked steps. Several times we almost slipped, but he was thrilled - I mean thrilled - at the aspect of collecting candy and little toys and putting them in the pumpkin bag.

As we pulled up to home, he fell asleep. I hauled him out of the back seat, one more time. The kitty dumped her "take" on the table and began pairing off matching candies. I tucked her in at 10 p.m.

What a night of tricks.

What a night of treats.