Mike was a guy in the singles class I attended at a church many years ago before my husband entered the picture. He was the unofficial class greeter -- the first to shake your hand when you came in and the first to remember the name of anyone new. He worked at a greeter at a local Walmart. I was kind to Mike, but I found it difficult to really relate to him beyond the compulsory, "Hey, Mike." I expected Mike to be more like me, but since he wasn't, since he was different, I didn't know how to get to know him better.
When I first began working for one of my previous bosses, I found it difficult to relate to him. He was different from me and it felt like we were continually butting heads, for some unknown reason. And then one day, for a reason I can't remember, we sat down together and he told me his life story--about his past, where he'd come from, what his life had been like. And after that, after getting to know him, we clicked and I enjoyed working for him and with him from that time on.
I was reminded about Mike and my previous boss a few weeks ago. We took Buddy for his yearly visit to the Williams syndrome specialist last week, and I was filling out all the evaluation forms they sent before we went. Several of the questions were about his interactions with peers, so I asked his preschool teacher to share her insight. One of those questions was, "Do his peers ever think his behavior is odd or weird?" She (kindly, truthfully, and without malice) answered with the "Sometimes this is true" box.
That stung a bit.
Sure, I can look around and see that Buddy is different from other children. Most kids his age don't keep their hands over their ears because the noise level in everyday situations is too intense for them (a condition called hyperacusis). Most four-year-olds don't burst into tears at the sight of something that makes a noise they don't like (the blender, the vacuum cleaner). Most kids don't have difficulty sitting still for short periods of time or paying attention to the task at hand. Most of his peers don't have trouble tracing a line, drawing a circle, cutting along a straight line, coloring a picture, or building something out of blocks. Most kids don't have difficulty initiating and sustaining a conversation or playing games with other children. Most children don't go around giving hugs to everyone they see.
But he is Buddy. And he is different.
And here's the thing about being different: It's okay.
It's okay because God, Buddy's Creator and the Creator of each one of us, likes variety. And He fearfully and wonderfully created Buddy in His image just the way He wanted him to be.
I don't find Buddy odd or weird. I enjoy being with him, talking with him, and playing with him . . . on his terms (which often include weedwackers). I know him well (I should since I'm his mother, right?), and I know what he's like as an individual, not measured against everyone else.
I know that he's funny, likes reading books, enjoys being around people, and loves playing his harmonica. And while we're working with him to minimize some of the "differences" in areas such as conversation and fine motor skills, we also love him just the way he is.
Whether we know it or not, we expect people to be like we are, and when we find out they're not, we may label them as different, or weird, or odd. I'm fairly sure, looking back now, that Mike had Williams syndrome. His overfriendliness, good memory of faces and names, distinctive facial features, and slow shuffling walk fit the profile of a syndrome that has become part of our lives. But does it matter whether someone has a "diagnosis" or a storied past that helps explain current behavior? It shouldn't--we should be kind to everyone, receiving each as an individual created in God's image for His glory. But sometimes understanding what makes a person different from me can help me embrace those differences a bit more easily.
If you expect Buddy to act like other typically developing four-year-olds, you may find his behavior odd or different. But if you expect him to act like Buddy and take the time to get to know him as Buddy and allow him to be Buddy, I suspect you'll find that he'll bring you a great amount of joy, as he does to us.
(I feel the need to add this disclaimer, which seems silly because this blog is just for friends and family, but I do want to be clear that I'm not talking about tolerating moral differences or tossing aside the clearly delineated moral commands given in the absolute standard of God's Word favor of accepting any type of behavior. We are teaching Kieran to be kind, to share his toys, to obey those in authority, and to follow God's Word. Nor am I advocating accepting the "all roads lead to heaven" approach (Jesus clearly said that He is the only way to heaven). So, there. Disclaimer ended.)
