I opened the bottle of bubbles and blew colorful iridescent globes into the cool September air.  “Uh, Uh,” Danny cried.  At eighteen months old he didn’t say much, but he clearly communicated his desire to blow the bubbles himself.  I held the wand close to his mouth and he gently blew, sending his own shiny balls out onto the wind.  “Uh, Uh,” Brookie begged.  At three years old, she wanted everything her little brother had, including a turn blowing bubbles.

I held the wand near her lips and she stuck out her tongue, licking the wand.  I showed her again how we purse our lips, and gently blew through the circle.  This time Brookie reached for the wand and put it in her mouth.  Once again, I caught her eye, blew softly so she could feel the breeze and demonstrated how to blow into the soapy circle.  Bookie blew!  She spit a little as she blew, but she released enough air to make a bubble rise and pop on the end of the wand.

My eyes grew hot with emotion as I shouted “yea, Brookie” and clapped my hands.  She clapped for herself, a trick she already knew and needed no prompting to imitate.  I hugged her to my chest, and she wrapped her arms around my neck, savoring the hug for as long as I let her.

My heart always swells with excitement every time Brookie learns something new.  I clap not only so she will know I am proud of her, but because her progress delights me, and I want to celebrate.

Brookie, along with her cousin, Reuben, were born with Down Syndrome.  Bret and I never dreamed we would have even one grandchild child with Down Syndrome, let alone two!  Neither did we imagine how much we could adore these precious souls, and what a blessing they would be to our family.  Reuben is still an infant, and we have no idea what will happen when we show him how to blow bubbles.

Our two little “Downsies,” as we affectionately call them, have taught us some powerful life lessons.  We’ve learned to love people where they are, without expectation, without conditions.  We’ve experienced the law of opposites, noting that along with tremendous challenges come unfathomable joy.  I, personally, realized I will never be bored in heaven.

When I was young, the idea of visiting other kingdoms to preach the gospel did not motivate me to seek eternal life.  I couldn’t fathom paradise being all about teaching the gospel of Jesus Christ.  However, many years of living have shown me that there is no greater joy than helping people progress, and nothing more satisfying than helping them progress spiritually.

When Bret and I served as mission leaders we were constantly touched by the progress of our missionaries.  A new missionary reminded me of an unbaked cake—full of potential, but not very tasty at the moment.  Bret and I grinned at one another as we heard them try out a new language, throwing in an English word whenever they didn’t know the word in Spanish.  When the very same missionary became a leader, testifying with power in front of his peers, we secretly winked at one another.  Bret would share a victory he had witnessed and I would raise my hand to give him a high-five.  We hugged one another as we pondered the changes we were seeing in these young lives.  It was immensely satisfying to help our missionaries with their spiritual progress.  It was so fun I realized I could do this forever, literally for an eternity.

Upon completing our service as mission leaders, we were called to serve in a Spanish speaking ward.  Bret is the bishop and I serve wherever he sends me (four different callings in three years).  We still find that the thing that makes us want to get up each morning is helping the Lord’s children progress.

I had to check my smile recently as I watched one of the young men in our ward give his first talk in Sacrament meeting.  Baptized in his home country, he came to America not speaking English.  His first Sunday at church, he arrived wearing ratty street clothes.  Within a few weeks he arrived at church and without his angry statement-tee, but in a thin, white t-shirt.  The next week he wore an over-sized suit jacket over his thin, white t-shirt.  A few weeks later he left the borrowed jacket at home and arrived in the button-down shirt Bret had given him.  A few more weeks went by, and he arrived in the button-down shirt graced with a tie.  The next week he passed the sacrament.

There are lots of things I enjoy about mortal life that I hope they have in the eternities.  We love climbing mountains and river-rafting and scuba diving and hang gliding.  I hope there is gravity in heaven so we can go snow skiing and water skiing.  Ideally, when I play pickle-ball my resurrected body won’t sustain as many injuries as it does now.  Who knows if such activities will exist in the eternities?  The thing we do know is that we will still have the privilege of teaching gospel of Jesus Christ.  We can sit back and watch people progress, and as they do it we’ll be so exciting, we will want to clap.

JeaNette Goates Smith is a retired Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist.  She and her husband are the parents of 14 children, two of whom have Down Syndrome.  They recently returned from serving as mission leaders in the Dominican Republic.  Visit her website at www.smithfamilytherapy.org.