Imagine trying to give an elevator speech with a mouth full of marbles. That is how I felt a few weekends ago when Megan and I displayed at two wonderful events, the Walk/Run for the Autism Society and the Step Up for Down Syndrome Walk.
For weeks, we had been looking forward to these events because of the support they build through the shared experiences they provide families.
Still, despite my outgoing and, occasionally, outlandish personality, I sometimes find myself nervous about sharing concepts in a short amount of time, particularly with strangers who may not have a knack for picking up my speech patterns.
One difficulty I've discovered, even when time isn't a factor, is that giving someone the experience of being coached is often easier than talking about coaching in abstract terms. Recognizing this, I felt the need to explore ways to integrate coaching into my discussion about the process. All this was to be done within a minute or less. There are times when it takes me a minute to get out a coherent thought. The math simply wasn't working out!
Saturday morning, I was up at 5 and off to Moore Square by bus to be there in time to help Megan set up our table. Even though we made a number of great connections, there were moments when people didn't understand me, and their reaction was to bypass me and look to Megan for information. At those moments, I felt like little more than an animated mannequin.
After the event, Megan and did a debriefing, reviewing what worked for us and what didn't work, and how we might improve. We explored the ways in which we engaged people and how they responded. I recognized what a difference it made to step back and offer a space for people to become interested in and learn more about us, despite whatever else may have been going on.
I took these discoveries and immediately applied them the next morning. I entered the Sunday event with a greater focus and picture of what worked best for us, and what from the day before needed to be let go. I was very deliberate in setting the atmosphere around our booth so that it became a space of safety and dialogue.
It felt as though people were more drawn to us, more interested in what we had to offer and more willing to share their needs. Unlike the day before, I also found that during these conversations, most people were far more interested in hearing what I had to offer instead of looking to Megan.
As we packed up to leave that afternoon, a mother who was passing by and assisting with the cleanup asked if I was an artist. I responded, "Not a visual artist, but I am a writer and mentor."
She seemed amazed, especially when I introduced Megan as my wife. She asked if she could introduce us to her children. Of course we said yes, and as soon as she called her children over, we witnessed one of the most beautiful gifts a mother has to offer.
After she told them a bit about us, she turned to them and said, "We all are given our challenges in life. No one is immune; it's what you do with these challenges that makes the difference, and there is no reason to use them as excuses. You can do anything that you set your mind to."
For both Megan and I, the greatest value in attending these events is not merely to serve as a way to promote our new services, but to serve as a way for families affected by disability to recognize the potential that can arise within us, and to demonstrate how to tap into that potential to build the lives we dream about having. Marbles or not.
