terrypetersen

We delight in the beauty of the butterfly, but rarely admit the changes it has gone through to achieve that beauty. (Maya Angelou)

Ella’s daddy’s softball season is over, but the celebration after that last game replays in my mind—not the typical parts of it, the beer and food. I don’t drink alcohol, haven’t for a long time. It’s the god-incidence I recall. A friend of mine introduced me to that coined word; it’s a coincidence that touches a deeper level. And, as usual, Ella acted as conduit:

I’m playing football Ella-style with a small cloth ball. Actually, it turns into a game of fetch. I can’t catch her wild throws, under picnic tables, into aisles. She sometimes prefers to chase her own no-aim-in-mind tosses. She squeals as she plays. Like a little piggy. Looks like one, too. She is wearing some of the playground. Nothing like being thorough. Delight exudes from her.  I watch as Ella runs, toddler style, a new skill. I’m more enthused about her accomplishment than I was when her daddy, Steve, took off at the age of one, the world at his feet. That came easily. For Ella this moment took work.

One young woman watches. It is apparent she wants to join in the game. Mini-football becomes a trio, still played Ella style, mostly out-of-bounds, but never out-of-favor. Ella hands the ball to the young woman and the young woman signs thank you.

“You know sign language,” I say.

I soon learn the woman’s name is Jen and she is completing her last courses in special education. She understands. Minutes ago, if I hadn’t had my granddaughter to laugh with, I would have wanted to be home—away from the artificial large-beer-centered entertainment, at the computer or strumming the guitar. Instead, I want the evening to begin again. Jen shows Ella how to open and close her own cup. Ella grins. She is the master.

Ella abandons the football for a moment and visits other tables. She makes friends with Amy and her husband. They give her fries with ketchup. Ella insists upon ketchup. This turns out to be another god-incidence because Amy has experience as a pediatric nurse. She is now a nurse educator. Another person who understands. Another gift.

Next we work on speech. “Say buh, Ella, buh.” Lots of chatter. Several times she has taken a phone, toy or real, and said, “hello,” sometimes clearly, sometimes less distinct. But, success isn’t a contest. Our butterfly-in-training is aware of colors the rest of the world has never seen. Sometimes I think that tripled twenty-first chromosome has extra spirit in it. Love comes naturally to her. The rest of us have to work harder on it.

photo by Sue Wilke