She examined the jewel in our crown--firstborn son of our firstborn daughter--with the trained eye of a pediatric nurse and declared, "Something's wrong. I'd have him checked for Down syndrome."
I recoiled, like a cobra, in denial. Who was this person who dared upset our perfect world and perfect family with cruel conjecturing?
Certainly it hadn't escaped me that Sam had low muscle tone, that his head sometimes seemed too heavy for his neck. But, after all, he was only five months old
—and a large head often indicates high intellectual capacity, does it not?
Besides, if there were a problem, the doctors certainly would have noticed it. This one, after all, was only a nurse.
Wiser than her mother—my daughter immediately made an appointment with Sam’s pediatrician. “Yes,” he said. “Sam does have low muscle tone but little else would indicate Down syndrome. To make you happy, though, I will order blood tests.”
Two weeks later, we had the truth—the nurse was right. Sam has Down syndrome.
Through Sam, God has taught this grandma a thing or two about thin places and perfection:
- Only God is perfect. He decides what’s best for us . . . what we need. And, having supplied that need, He gives us strength, yes, even joy, to walk the path He sets before us.
- Sam meets our needs perfectly, teaching us daily about unconditional love. And through him, this staunch advocate of the sanctity of human life gets to practice what she preaches, "All life is sacred."
