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Dear Friend,
My name is Leilani, and my husband Rod and I are raising four beautiful children. One of them, Ava, has Down syndrome.
When I think about St. Joseph, Patron Saint of Families, I think about quiet trust.
Joseph didn’t have all the answers. He didn’t know exactly what the future would hold for his family. But he trusted God, cared for his family, and took the next faithful step in front of him.
As parents, Rod and I try to live that same trust every day.
We learned of Ava’s diagnosis at the beginning of COVID. At that time, everything felt uncertain. Resources were limited. The world had slowed down, and we often felt like we were navigating something completely new on our own.
But we quickly realized something important: God brings people into your life when you need them.
Families reached out and shared books about Down syndrome. Friends offered encouragement. Over time, they became part of our extended family. Their support reminded us that we weren’t alone.
Through it all, Rod and I realized that the strength of our marriage would shape how we faced whatever lay ahead. During my pregnancy, we kept reminding each other that our hope wasn’t in the world’s expectations—it was in God’s love. God knows our hearts, and he places the right persons around us when we need them.
Our Catholic faith has become the center of our family life.
Sunday Mass is non-negotiable for us. Receiving the Eucharist fuels us and sends us out into the world to experience the love of Christ.
We try to introduce our children to the richness of the faith whenever we can. During Easter time, we often visit beautiful Catholic sites together. We’ve prayed the Rosary in the courtyard of the Franciscan monastery in D.C. This spring break, we’re planning to visit the Basilica of the National Shrine of the Immaculate Conception.
Of course, traveling with four young kids—especially when one has a disability—takes planning and intention. There are sensory breaks. We map out parking ahead of time. We build in rest. Sometimes you have to slow down and simply observe instead of trying to do everything.
There are moments when you feel exhausted and wonder if it’s worth the effort.
But then you see your children experiencing the beauty of the Church, and you remember why it matters.
One of my favorite memories was when our family traveled to Rome for the Jubilee of Hope. What started as a dream became a reality. There were plenty of surprises along the way, but it was worth it the moment we walked into St. Peter’s Basilica.
I will never forget the look on my children’s faces when they looked up and saw the ceiling for the first time. Their jaws just dropped. They were completely in awe.
Those moments remind me that our faith is bigger and more beautiful than we sometimes realize.
As parents, Rod and I try to share that richness with our children. We want Ava—and all of our kids—to grow up knowing the beauty of the Church and experiencing it as the center of their lives.
Sometimes we underestimate our children—especially children with disabilities.
I remember being nervous the first time I tried to pray the Rosary with the kids. I wondered if they would have the patience for it.
But we tried anyway. And we finished the whole Rosary.
The world often tells families what children with disabilities cannot do. But you might be surprised by what they can do when they are given the chance.
Ava inspires us in ways we never expected. Every time we enter a cathedral, she genuflects with such reverence. Seeing her love for Jesus reminds us that we need to bring our children to these holy places more often.
At home, faith fills our daily life in simple ways. We keep pictures of Jesus around the house. We sing songs together—sometimes the same ones over and over. One of Ava’s favorites is “God is good all the time.” Through music, we’ve even noticed her speech improving.
During Mass, I sometimes lean over and whisper, “Say hi to Jesus.” And Ava smiles.
These small moments shape the culture of our family.
Family life isn’t about perfection. It’s about faithfulness. It’s about trusting God, taking the next step, and guiding your children toward heaven.
In our home, we often ask the kids a simple question: “What’s our goal in life?”
Their answer is always the same: “To go to heaven.”
Organizations like the National Catholic Partnership on Disability help families like mine know that we are not walking this path alone. They help parishes grow in understanding so that families raising children with disabilities can feel truly welcomed and supported.
This Lenten season, will you consider making a gift as part of your almsgiving to support this mission? Together, we can help more families experience the beauty, belonging, and hope that our Catholic faith offers.
Give today at NCPD.org/support.
With gratitude,
Leilani
