Whatever the Day Will Bring

Two days ago, my 8yo daughter with Down syndrome eloped.

Two days ago, my 8yo daughter with Down syndrome eloped. For the blessedly uninitiated, elopement in this sense means when a person, usually with special needs or a medical condition, decides to take a walk on their own. Without telling anyone.

This isn’t an uncommon scenario for many parents and caregivers. One minute, their child is playing on the floor with their puppets, the next minute it’s time to eat and no one knows where they are. In our case, realizing that a child is not in immediate sighting is like dropping a lightning rod into the middle of our average and sedate activities and blowing us into all directions calling out the name of our loved one.

So I found myself scouring the backyard, skirting the woodlands and doubting she would even dare to venture within. I was grateful for my son’s earlier careful clearing of the edges, as my eyes easily skimmed the forest floors. I could hear the plaintive calls of us all, the dog barking, the minutes of the clock ticking like thunder in my head. I strained to hear her giggle, as I knew she would be delighted by all of calling and chasing and freedom of running, running, running.

Of course I prayed. Of course I was scared, my innards drained of all circulation and reason. I was halfway around the house, plodding purposefully so that I wouldn’t miss her for my rushing, yet knowing that if we didn’t find her by the time I reached the front door, we’d be calling in the county’s K9 search and rescue. But the echoes of, “We have her!” bounced through the breeze and I was able to stop, stop and breath, stop and thank God. The whole ordeal was a couple of minutes, a couple of lifetimes.

I don’t write much about what it is like to parent two children with Down syndrome, probably because this is normal life, my normal life. I don’t know what it is like to be able to communicate fully with all of my children, to know what they want, how they feel, which color they prefer. Twenty-five years later into motherhood, I am still changing diapers. We go to therapies multiple times a week, and chat over the internet with providers on a regular basis. We go to blood draws and dentists and those are not fun times for anyone. We read the books, watch the documentaries, talk to other parents with similar issues. We have unanswered questions about their future, but..and this is the driver..we know within Whose hands their futures lie, so there is peace and enough grace for the trouble in the day at hand. Sometimes more than enough trouble, but somehow in His mysterious way, more grace abounds and I have yet another day.

What struck me as I held my daughter and chided her for her little adventure is that freaking out wasn’t part of the determined march to find her. God is ruling over all of our affairs, even the frightful ones, and His little ones are well within His sight even when outside of ours. Still, with sobriety and relief, we mapped out how we can make our home even more secure, and all went to bed that night comforted and grateful for His mercies promised to be made anew in the morning, in preparation for whatever the next day will bring.