I’m Donna. I’m seventy-three years old, a widow, and most people have already stopped helping me. People my age think that women should spend their days knitting, drinking tea, and waiting for life to slow down. But life had other plans—crazy, great, and totally unexpected. It started with being alone and ended with love, purpose, and a life I could never have imagined.
I lived in the same modest house in Illinois for more than fifty years. It was where my kids took their first steps, had their birthdays, and buried their loved ones. I raised two boys here and buried my husband Joseph here. It hurt to lose him because the stillness was so deep. I tried filling it with gardening, volunteering, and baking for the firehouse, but nothing worked to replace the empty space inside. Even holidays felt empty, with vacant spots at my table.
Then, one Sunday at church, I heard volunteers talking about a baby girl who had just been born at the shelter. Nobody wanted her because she had Down syndrome. “Too much work,” one person said. “She’ll never have a normal life.”
Something inside me moved. I asked her where she was, and by that afternoon, I was looking at the smallest thing I had ever seen. Her fingers were clenched under her chin, her mouth gave out tiny squeaks, and her eyes were wide open and intrigued. I knew she was mine from a distance.
“I’ll take her,” I said.
The social worker blinked. “At your age?”
“I’ll take her,” I repeated again. And I really meant it.
I named her Clara since she wore a small onesie with purple thread. She moved into my creaky house, which had a lot of cats and dogs that no one else wanted. She wasn’t a burden to me; she was light, proof that even the most disregarded people could shine.
Not everyone understood it. People in the area talked quietly. My son came in angry. He responded angrily, “You’ll be dead before she’s grown.” “This is bad for the family.”
I hugged Clara tightly. I whispered, “Then I’ll love her with every breath I have,” and led him to the door.
A week later, I heard engines—a deep, polished sound that was like a choir. There were eleven black Rolls-Royces parked on the street. People in fitting clothes gave me an envelope. Inside were papers that showed Clara’s inheritance. She was the only heir to a fortune left to her by her wealthy parents, who died too soon in a tragic fire. As her guardian, it was my job to keep an eye on everything.
For a moment, I saw chandeliers, soft nurseries, and shiny grand pianos. But I knew when Clara cried in my arms. I said, “No.” “Throw away everything.”
You can’t purchase love with money. I used her money to launch the Clara Foundation, which aids youngsters with Down syndrome, and I built an animal shelter next to our house. Over the years, Clara became full of life, messy, and impossible to stop. Doctors didn’t trust her, but she was right every time.
At the Foundation event, she told the crowd with confidence, “My grandma says I can do anything.” And I believe her. This time I cried because I was proud and happy.
Clara became a great young lady. She worked at the shelter, fell in love, and got married in our backyard with a crown of daisies on her head. I sat in the front row with a cat on my lap and watched her take in a life full of love and hope.
The reality put an end to the years-old whispers that said, “No one wants a baby like that.” People desired her, adored her, and knew she could do great things. And she saved me by taking her in.
Even if life was hard, I chose love. I choose to believe. And I never looked back.
Have you ever made a choice that changed your life and the life of someone else forever? Tell others about your experience in the comments and motivate them.