Julia’s at an age where I see the spectrum of people’s reactions broaden when we’re out in public. Folks experience her as we walk through the mall or connect with other families at our church or attend a school function, and I see a few different responses:

Some meet her right where she is. They engage her in conversation, despite her speech delay. If she’s in the right frame of mind (and with a little coaching from mom and dad), Julia lights right up and loves the exchange.

Others will give her a side-eye and a smile as they go. And the rest are quiet and seem to avoid eye contact.

This is not an indictment of anyone – just observations. Most of the time, Julia is up to her elbows in life; reveling in the interaction with those who reflect it back to her and remaining unflappably joyful with the ones who don’t quite know how to respond.

But here’s the hard truth: On any given day, I can respond in any of the above ways. I have that list of projects in my head. You know the one I’m talking about. They amount to not a lot, really; but they seem so important in the moment. When I’m in that zone, anyone can feel like an obstacle in the way of getting my thing… my projects… my agenda… done.

I can justify my distraction or selfishness all I want. It’s not what’s best in me.

And it took the exercise of watching a kid string fruit cereal on a pipe cleaner to remind me of what’s really going on.

A week or so ago, Jocelyn and I were hosting a Saturday morning kid’s program at our local GiGi’s Playhouse (hit me up if you’ve not heard about this coolest thing ever). It was a St. Patrick’s Day theme and involved leprechaun hunts, fruit kabobs, a sensory box with prizes to find, and a “rainbow making” craft with fruit cereal, marshmallows and pipe cleaners. I had my camera out to capture the moment for our social media feed.

Nothing happens at GiGi’s without specific intent – be it socialization, large and fine motor control, sensory exploration or myriad other goals. There were kids and volunteers everywhere and the whole room was abuzz with activity; but it was the Rainbow Station that drew me in.

My friend Suzanne was helping a little girl named Garryn with her rainbow as her mom looked on, naming the colors and guiding her hand as she threaded the loop of cereal between her fingers. Mom looked on encouragingly as she steadied the pipe cleaner for the next morsel.

It looks simple enough, but it doesn’t always come naturally to a kid with Down syndrome. Low muscle tone affects hand strength and dexterity. Cognitive delays can impact focus and attention span. But for all of her attendant challenges, I could see from her intense expression that Garryn was not going to be denied. She worked – hard – on something her typical peers had left in the dust years before.

And in a moment of clarity, I had to will my shoulders and neck to relax as I stood there, silently rooting for her. I had been completely drawn in.

As they continued, I could see them begin to turn a corner. In the subtle dance between coach and student, Suzanne backed off a little; and there was just a little more ease and precision in Garryn’s hands as she worked. I could almost see the neural pathways in her head madly knitting themselves together as finger pressure, hand/eye coordination and concentration strengthened with the intentional exercise. Garryn had most of that pipe cleaner strung by the time she needed a break and a marshmallow (low muscle tone can tire little hands out quickly).

It was a tiny little win that this marvelous little girl would take into virtually every other domain of her life. But it didn’t stop there.

As I looked deeply into that moment in the days that followed, one conviction kept repeating itself in my mind:

“Everybody won.”

Garryn won. A vital skill was reinforced; but she also experienced the love and care of another human being that she had just met.

Mom won. In the often lonely world of a parent of a child with special needs, she got a moment of clarity that she does not walk it alone – that there are others who see the immeasurable worth of her little girl in the same way she does.

Suzanne won. She is a woman of fearsome talent and achievement. But she got the privilege of setting aside what I know is a manic schedule and took part in encouraging the formation and growth of one who needed everything she brought to the table that day. Garryn’s situation is not something Suzanne could completely fix; but she embraced the “holy ascension” of selflessness and was simply available for whatever God and the moment required.

And I won. In that wondrous moment, I experienced again the world as it was meant to be; and it kindled my hunger to join it more fully.

What do we live for, if it is not to make life less difficult for each other?

British Novelist Mary Ann Evans, under her pen name George Eliot

This good day, March 21st, where the world takes a moment and remembers the unique contribution of our friends with Ds, has meaning far greater than its founders intended. This platform from which I speak, in fact, is about way more than reminding you (again) that my kid has Down syndrome and expecting the world to embrace and include her.

It’s what I have seen happen, time and again, when I allow my heart to actually slow down, set aside my agenda, and enter the world of another with the intention to simply be with and serve them. Life is better – I am better – when I get off the treadmill of self achievement and the endless quest for worldly value and embrace the intrinsic value that is in us all.

And I am humbled and blessed when I see others who have figured that truth out a little more than I and are living it out. Hanging out with our friends with Ds seems to make that reality slip into our heads and lives a little easier.

You’ve heard me say it in a lot of different ways, but that’s what people like Julia do in our culture. Though there are forces bent on eradicating their impact on this earth, these little souls slip through our institutional nets of pre-emptive extermination and stubbornly cling to the fringes of our communities and culture. They quietly remind us by their very presence that there is more to life than the next deal, the next promotion, or the next technological innovation.

To the dismay of our impulse for progress and ever-higher achievement, they offer something different – and I say better.

Julia doesn’t give a hang about what’s to get done. She cares far, far more about who she’ll be with. She is driven by relationship, not task. She and the community of people with Ds are tasked by eternity to bear witness to and draw out of us that which is most noble and selfless. They help us to retain what is uniquely human in ourselves. In a broken world where only the strong survive, our friends with Ds help us to be utterly different and co-conspire in the world’s redemption.

I humbly submit that we need to support an incubator to develop that most precious resource. We need a focal point where we can get our humanity tanks good and full.

So here’s the ask:

After two years of work by dozens of local families, a GiGi’s Playhouse opened in Detroit in January with one of the largest grand openings in GiGi’s history. We have hit the ground running with a whole raft of programs, but there is a burn in our hearts to do so much more.

We keep the lights on and programs rolling with the support of people who get it – and we’re doing one of our biggest fundraisers of the year.

For those of you who are more adventurous, you have the opportunity to raise money and rappel off the 26 story First National Building in the heart of downtown Detroit on Saturday, May 18th. Those of us who are less adventurous get to support and watch! No matter where you fall on the risk tolerance continuum, there is a way to connect and support this great work if you click here.