A Prayer

Dear God,

You have a wicked sense of humor. In my deepest thoughts, I asked you for a tall, blond, blued eyed Irishman…. And low and behold, you provided one!!! His only issue is that he isn’t particularly Irish, but then again we are in America. However, judging from the day’s events, I suppose you misunderstood me. When I prayed for a Blondie, I meant for me!

You already know what happened but let me tell you again:

My six year old brother, my eight year old sister, my timeless mother, and I arrived at the salon a few minutes early, a rare feat. For most of us humans, getting a haircut is no big deal, but for sweet A, my sister, it is quite a traumatic event. She has Down Syndrome, and many people look at her phobia of haircuts with criticizing eyes, but let me point out the not so obvious: Exactly how many people do the rest of us allow anywhere near our faces with sharp objects? Needless to say, we saved her cut for last, hoping for the best, when who shows up but the tall, blond, blued eyed, MLB candidate, son of the hairdresser! “Oh my, my, my,” was all I could say, thanking you the entire time. I sat in silence, reserving my flirtatious powers, listening to him explain his reason for being there at that particular moment to my mother and his.

Then out of the corner of my ear, I hear a small voice in the background. “Hi,” it said over and over again, grasping for attention. I recognized it as A’s and saw her beaming in his direction.

It wasn’t long before he noticed it too, and to my surprise answered her greeting with a kind, gentle, “Hi!”

I was shocked! Almost everyone to whom she dares to speak out loud either doesn’t respond at all or is very reserved and mechanical. R, on the other hand, answered, looking straight into her eyes, actually caring for her response.

I couldn’t help but notice her ivory cheeks turn rosy, and she covered her face in playfulness. She would peek around her fingers once every few seconds, and R would be waiting for her giggly reaction. Suddenly, she no longer yelled at the suggestion of a haircut, but gently said, “No cut cut, Mamma.” It only took one proposal from R, and she was willing for anything. You should have seen the display of bravery! She covered her eyes and held back the tears with valiant effort! Within minutes a good inch and a half of her hair had been trimmed, and she stood up, looking more beautiful than ever. “Where’s R?” were the first words out of her mouth. 

“Oh, boy,” I thought, as she swaggered towards him, with her hands behind her back. “Pretty,” she chirped as she flipped the ends of her newly trimmed hair. A ridiculous case of eight year old flirting, if you ask me! She spent the next several minutes playing peek-a-boo with him around nearest corner, and the most amazing thing of all was that he was able to carry on a conversation with G, my brother, at the same time! Not an easy task and truly impressive! I haven’t heard my sister laugh like she did today more than a dozen times in her entire existence, and it is the most beautiful sound in the world, nor have I seen her connect with someone that fast, especially with a guy! The three talked sports until it was time to go, and I sat back and watched in fascination.

It warmed my heart to see someone care that much about her feelings. Anyone who knows me is well of my attitude about my sister: If you’ve got a problem with her, I’ve got a problem with you. If you can’t accept her, than you better just walk away. (Oh yeah, I can be like that. ;)

A few hours later, as we sat in front of Sam’s Club, waiting for G, Mom, and the groceries, A talked up a storm about wanting to go see R play baseball. She must have told me a hundred different ways. It was the sweetest thing.

So, dear God, in reviewing all of this, I see your point. I learned something today. I learned that the people that can accept her and love her immediately for who she is are few and far between. She deserves all of them she can get! Besides, how could I steal her first crush? Despite all of the logic, your humor is really quite ironic, and because you have teased me so, I’m going to assume that there truly is an Irishman waiting for me, right around the corner ;) Maybe today was just practice.