OK, pilgrims, let’s be real — I’d like to call myself a “writer,” but honestly? I’m still struggling to hit an occasional blog post. Why? Fear. Fear of failing. Fear of being bad at it. Fear of people not thinking I’m cool.

But let me be crystal clear: that fear is trash. We don’t have time for it. So here it is — blog post number two. (And no, not that “#2.” I have more dignity than that.)

Great! I’ve already downgraded my “writer” status with an embarrassing poop joke.

Moving on.

I have the absolute privilege of being on stage with my hero, my sister, and my best friend, Julie. This girl is a legend. She’s rocking that extra chromosome — the one the world calls Down syndrome. My Grampa, wise as they come, used to say Julie doesn’t have an extra chromosome; the rest of us are missing one. He called it the LOVE chromosome. Grampa was right.  And trust me I know “RIGHT.”

If you’ve ever met someone with Down syndrome, you already know: they radiate a brand of love most of us only dream about. Julie is walking, talking, unstoppable proof. She changes every room she enters. She even writes her own speeches — and she doesn’t hold back. One of my favorite Julie lines is:

“I’d rather be slow to learn than slow to love.”

Yup, that’s a Mic drop.

A few weeks ago, we were in front of about 600 people, and Julie proudly said, “I’m so glad my brothers, Derrick and Randy, and my sister Kristy, have a sister with Down syndrome in their family!”

Now, come on! If I stood up and said, “I’m so glad my siblings have ME!” I’d get booed off the stage. But Julie? She says it, and the place erupts with “Aww!” and applause. That’s her gift. She could declare herself Queen of the Universe, and everyone would line up to hug her. That’s the power of the love chromosome. It gives the lucky few who carry it superpowers.

And then there’s the mug story.

I met a guy who told me about his brother, who also has Down syndrome. Last Christmas, this brother gave everyone a mug with a giant photo of himself on it. You heard that right — a mug with his FACE. And everyone adored them. Those mugs became treasured keepsakes.

Now imagine if I rolled up with mugs featuring my DERRICK-face? You’d block me, trash the cup, unfriend me, and likely never talk to me again.

Same mug. Same design. Completely different reactions.

Why? Because of how we CHOOSE to see the giver. With one, we see love. With the other, we see arrogance. The object is identical; the response is 100% within our control.

That’s what I want you to hear loud and clear: we get to choose our reaction. Every situation, every single time.

We see a person, interpret who we think they are, assume their intentions, and judge. Julie? That friend’s brother? They see the same person and JUST LOVE <link>. Wastefully <link>. Not because it was earned, deserved, or even expected. Just because.

And who’s winning here? I don’t think it’s the mug-giver — and it sure isn’t me and my selfish choices — but that’s all fixable, friend. Because love? Love is never the wrong choice.

From now on, no matter the gift — or even if something is taken from us — we still have a choice. Let’s learn from Grampa, and learn from Julie. Let’s love the gift, love the moment, love the person. That, my friends, is how we change the world.