Love Beyond Measure

 

 

On the surface, one could look at this picture and see a traditional family; two parents, five children. The photograph is quite obviously an informal one, as there aren't any signs of matching clothing. All this is superficial. To fully experience this photograph, one must take a moment and go far beyond the superficial. That is where the real story unfolds.

 

This is my family. My father stands in the back, a very unassuming figure. Of average build and weight, nothing appears to be remarkable about him. It only takes one look in his face to see the kindness there. A smile spreads across his face, gently tilting down on the the left side. It lends him an air of mischievousness, and rightly so. Salt and pepper hair and reading glasses in his front pocket, he portrays his forty-eight years accurately. His right arms rests liesurely and lovingly on my mother, his wife of twenty-five years.

She is a woman of average height, wearing her customary denim skirt and modest top. The color of the top is a bright and cheery pink, very flattering with her graying black hair. Her sandals are the sensible ones that give support. She smiles easily at the camera, a customary expression for her, judging by the smile lines around her eyes. The glasses on her face are a current style, a definite upgrade from the old pair she wore. Overall, she looks like a mother, not drawing attention to herself, but giving all her time, energy and love into the family surrounding her.

My oldest brother Benjamin (Benjy), age 21, stands at the far left of the photo. He appears very confident and comfortable with himself. A dress shirt neatly tucked into a pair of dark jeans makes up his business casual look that he depends on every day. The usual blue colts cap is missing from his head, his matted hair being the telltale sign. Wire framed glasses somewhat hide his tired eyes, the only visible indication of his extreme work schedule. His beard grows coarsely and covers much of the lower half of his face. One arm hangs to his side loosely, and the other is wrapped around his girlfriend.

Brittany is easy going and fun to be around. Her wide smile and open face proves that point. Taller than all of the girls in my family, she is obviously the one that is not related. Light brown hair with a hint of red mingled in is in direct contrast to our family's deep brown hair. Yet, even though she could appear to the casual observer as the outsider, she blends well with our family. The family envelopes her, making her feel right at home. One hand rests on her hip, showing her spirit and determined attitude. After all, she was the one who helped convince Benjy that they were long overdue for a visit home.

Next in line of age would obviously be the girl in the deep pink ruffled shirt: me. I am seventeen and I do not appear any older than that. My looks are a strong mix of traits from my Mom and Dad. My body shape resembles that of my mom, as does my smile. From Dad I got the sparkle in my eye, giving the impression that I have a good sense of humor. The long, modest denim skirt adorning me is worn and faded. A cotton shirt shows that I care about looking nice, but also that I do not spend much money on clothing. I am playing with my hands, a habit I fall to when feeling self concious or impatient. My right arm rests on a teenage boy.

Perhaps someone with no previous experience with Down Syndrome would not take special notice of Isaac right away, but after another look anyone can see that he is not "normal." His eyes are the telltale almond shape of a person with Down Syndrome. The smile displayed on his face is tight and unnatural; he never has liked posing for pictures. Sport shorts, a construction yellow t-shirt and some knock-off brand of crocs complete the fifteen year old look. Three pens are perfectly placed in the shirt pocket, evenly spaced to the ever calculating eye of their owner. An outdated gray changepurse is clutched tightly in Isaac's hands, carrying the money he likes to use for his lunch. His arms and legs are kept carefully from anyone.

To his lower left the youngest leans awkwardly on the steps. Mary wears an orange shirt with black bermuda shorts. A bright and cheery smile serves as an accessory to her neon shirt. She inherited a very similar smile and overall look as I. Her dark brown hair is drawn back into a ponytail and, for extra measure, secured with a thick black headband. The freckles fanning out on her face could deceive the observer into thinking she were younger than her fourteen years. It is a face very deserving of the child with the baby of the family status.

We are joyful, connected, accepting, forgiving, and unconditionally loved...we are a true family. Though a picture may express a thousand words, no picture could capture the depth of the love my family has for one another. It goes beyond words that could be uttered in this world; perhaps in Heaven we will find the words to speak that can allow others to fully grasp the meaning of family.