Last night was the Christmas party at my son's program. I have to admit it always tugs my heart to see so many people with disabilities, some of whom are in their 60s and 70s, with their families. I think of all the years of care that those families have put in--and I see my future. You don't have a baby expecting he will be dependent on you for your whole lifetime.

But it happens.

The staff had decorated the room beautifully, and a DJ was playing fun dance music. John and I watched my son out in the middle of it all, dancing with everyone else--all them just doing their own thing, but together. I smiled the whole night, because in front of me were people dancing with 100% joy. How often do you and I do that?

Right in front of me was an older man who needed a wheelchair and with him was a white-haired man in a suit--his brother, just come from work. He held his brother's hands and helped him dance in his wheelchair. I imagined how surprised the coworkers or clients of that well-dressed man might have been to see him dancing to Saturday Night Fever with his brother. And how sad it is that we don't often know these things about the people we spend our days with.

One of the staff said to us, "We spend the first part of our lives anxious to grow up, and then we realize being an adult is kind of overrated."

I smiled. There are true and hard challenges in our son's life, but he's taught me many things, not the least of which is that there is room in the world for differences. We aren't all the same. We aren't all equal, except in our value. We all have something to give. We all have things we need. Every one of us.

But it takes an open heart to give and receive that value to each other. Watching my son dancing in his own way, surrounded by other people dancing in their own way, I set aside those challenges and let my heart fill with hope for us all.