Things I Choose

Yesterday was one of those days.  Nothing atrocious happened.  It was just a bunch of small stuff but enough small stuff stacked together can lead to an overall difficult day.  I had one.

After I had comforted myself as best I could with British television (I'm a nerd) and shed a few therapeutic tears, I managed to get a little sleep.

I woke early to a crazy Monday morning.  Isaac's sister had a field trip and had to get to school early. I had a nasty headache which was the only gift I had received from my self indulgent pity party the night before.

So now...the scene is set.  I have an auspicious decision before me.  I have a choice and the power to determine the quality of how this day and possibly this week will shape up for me, my sweet husband and my four children in this one instant.

I could... give into the pain in my skull and the panic of the morning.  I could yell at the kids and be short with my husband.  I could let the darkness of my mood seep into the room and infect my family.  I could poison their day and be repayed by their tears and watch them retreat into themselves as they attempt to avoid my gripes.  

That would be easy.  I just give in to what I'm feeling.

But there are repercussions even beyond the obvious.

Isaac has emotive echolalia.  Those are the big fancy words meaning he reflects back the emotions presented to him.  If I approach the morning as I may instinctively want to, I will be repayed not only by tears and sullenness from my typical children but also with an array of aggressive and difficult behaviors from Isaac.

Not the way to go...

I choose....to take responsibility for my own mood.  My Monday morning issues are my own and do not belong to my family.  I will not make them suffer for my ill spirits.

I choose...to warn.  I do tell my kiddos that I have a headache and let them know that this may not be the morning to speak Ewok or sing loud good morning songs (those activities having been popular around here lately).  I watch my words and my tone as I warn.  I'm not giving this information to be mean but rather just so they know.  Children should not be responsible for reading the minds of the adults around them.

I choose...to get to work.  My work is nurturing.  My calling is caring for these children that are mine. I hug my littles.  I wish my daughter well on her field trip.  I thank her for feeding the dogs.  I help my husband and I help my little ones as they prepare for their day.

I choose...to smile.  It isn't fake.  It isn't huge but it's a smile.
I choose...my tone.  My voice is light and encouraging as I help to wash Isaac's face and brush his teeth.
I choose..to look past my mood and towards their need.

and

I am rewarded.  The littles get on the bus happily after snuggling into a last goodbye hug.  Isaac and I blow dandelion seeds across the driveway as he talks about Easter presents.  The two of us together identify clover flowers and pluck two of them.  He holds them and then gives them to his bus driver and her assistant.  Her face lights up at my son's simple gift and his smile.  Her eyes shine and I can tell that she was affected by my son's gift of love.

Her day is brighter because of my choices.

I cannot choose what is given to me....but I choose my response...for Isaac.

Love you all!

What Do We Teach the Other 67?

Those CDC numbers continue to haunt and my heart hurts for the families of the newly diagnosed...those mommies and daddies of the one in 68.  Change is hard and their lives are about to be pummeled with changes.  Still, they will have a plan.  Doctors and therapists and educators will surround the newly diagnosed with appointments and evaluations and therapeutic exercises.

Their lives will be much different but they will have a plan for their child's success.

I wonder sometimes about the other 67...the typical ones.  I wonder what we as a society should be teaching those other 67 children who will most definitely be affected by the ever growing numbers of their peers who are diagnosed with autism.

Humans are instinctively afraid of what is different and of what they don't understand.  Our humanity also gives us a driving sense of competition and of first dibs.  We as people are preoccupied with ourselves.  We are the stars of our own reality show.

But thank God for children.  Children have all of those same tendencies but they are softened by curiosity.  They see differences but look for similarities.  Their souls bear the light of innocence and they have a wonderful indescribable capacity for love.

What about those other 67 typical children?  What shall we teach them?  What do we want for them? What do we want for our children with autism?  Their futures are tied.  These typical children will form the world where our affected children will live.

Some quickly answer that we want to hone the math and science skills of our typical children so that medical advances may be found and cures may be derived.

Math and science are marvelous endeavors...

And they are meaningless....without a heart that listens and loves and cares.

The future of Isaac and all of the others like him...the one is 68....will be determined by our ability to foster love in the other 67.  It is imperative that we teach them the value of life.  We need to go beyond basic knowledge and fill their days with lessons of love.

The children who are diagnosed with autism undergo hours and hours of instruction in imitation, in speech, in motor development and in social skills.

Our typical children need to spend time being taught to find joy in the differences of those around them, to seek opportunities to demonstrate love, to take the initiative to help and to see the beauty of shared experiences with all people of all abilities.

It is our responsibility to present the curricula of love.  We are tasked with the awesome responsibility to teach value and love and kindness.  How?  Surround ourselves and our little ones with those qualities we seek to teach.  Guard their environment as much as is possible.  Inundate it with kindness.  Grow their innocence.  Show them that everyone matters...a lot.  Teach the little ones that it is not always about them.  Teach them love.  Keep up with what they hear and what they see.  Have hard conversations.  Accept our responsibility to be examples and fill our own lives with love.

Love begets love.  Love begets light.  Love begets hope.

The hope for the one in 68 depends on the love we foster in the other 67.

It's Autism Awareness Month...What I'm Aware Of

It's April.  April has been designated Autism Awareness Month.

There are not adequate or accurate words to share with you how challenging autism can be....at least not that I can muster right now.  I'd rather share with you what autism has made me aware of and how my son's diagnosis shapes me into a better person.

Autism has made me Aware....that there is no such thing as a small achievement.  I used to take for granted the everyday mundane things.  I would have never thought to rejoice to see a toddler pointing at what they want or pretend that a tupperware lid was a cookie.  Every step is a big deal.  Every move ahead is noteable and noteworthy!  Everyday brings so many new opportunities to learn! And every new thing discovered is worth rejoicing over.

Autism has made me Aware...that the quietness of kindness and love are more forceful than the mightest hurricanes of uncertainty or fear.  Why is it that we are taught that kindness equates to weakness?  Kindness, compassion, love...these are the lights that break through the darkest evils.  Everyone has uncertainly.  Everyone has a burden.  Our souls are thirsting for those lovely intangibles of kindness, compassion and love.  Autism helped to teach me that.

Autism has made me Aware...that anyone can minister....and should.  We are community.  It is our job to notice those around us, to see need and to meet it.  Autism went further on this point.  We are all important enough and capable enough to minister to each other in some way.  We are never so incapable that we cannot love.  We are never so incapable that we cannot inspire.

Autism has made me Aware ...that life is made up of moments.  The difficult ones will pass and we can make it through.  Hope inspires and gives us the will to get to the next moment.  The beautiful moments pulse joy.  They sparkle with wonder.  Autism has made me aware enough to recognize these glorious moments, to seize them and play in them.  Rejoice!  Play!  Laugh....Loudly!  Grab it, Enjoy it and Cherish it.  Tuck it into your most special memory pocket.  It will grow into hope.

Autism has made me Aware...

Thank You for Being A Hero

WOW!  Have you been to Isaac's facebook page and looked at us????  There are 144 people who have "Liked" Isaac's page in the past two weeks since I (with a good amount of help from Eva) put it up.

HOW COOL IS THAT?!?

I browse down the list of folks who have liked my son's page and I am blown away.  Here is a list of people who see the inherit value of a child regardless of ability.  Here is a list of individuals who understand that worth is not tied to what we do or what we have.  Worth is about who we are.

I am proud to know you.  I am proud to be associated with a group of people who can see beyond the stereotypical norms of who a person is supposed to be and recognize the unique beauty of who they are right now.

Thank you for recognizing the beauty of my Isaac...my Happy Laughter.  Thank you for taking a moment out of your hectic lives and out of your schedule crammed days to look at Isaac's pictures, to read of his adventures and to rejoice over his achievements.   Thank you for surrounding our family in love and encouragement.  Thank you for buoying us with your hope and help.

I am grateful for each one of you.  I am grateful to know that the world is full of so many special, loving and insightful people.  I am grateful for the eyes with which you see my son and the heart with which you receive him.

Wishing you love and laughter as we enter April together....

The Light of Hope

I have always loved to celebrate.  Why not smile?  Why not take a moment and remember the good?  But it has been Isaac who has taught me the necessity of celebrating.  It is not idleness that commands us to stand back and reflect.  It is our intrinsic need to focus on the things that really matter to the world.

I remember the first year after Isac was diagnosed.  He was two.  His younger sister was six months old.  I dreaded the diagnosis even though I was smart enough to know it was coming.  I dreaded the Pandoric Box I was sure diagnosis would open.   Slowly and bravely, we approached the diagnosis and were immediately surrounded by whirlwinds of acronyms screaming around our Happy Laughter.  The sinister shrieks of therapies, evaluations, specialists and agencies consumed our ears with deafening cries that threatened to drown out our Isaac's laughter.  The nemesis of laughter is despair.  It flew out of the diagnosis and descended into our hearts.  Autism consumed our thoughts and our schedules.  

But do you remember the story of Pandora?   After all the demons escaped, something else was freed.    Something small....and seemingly insignificant....Hope rose. Out of that horrid diagnostic day, Hope appeared.   We realized that as Isaac's parents, our primary responsibility was to grow this Hope and to harbor her sisters Faith and Love.  We resolved that while we could not ignore the more difficult aspects of Isac's diagnosis....we would not let them define Isaac or our family.  We would harbor Hope, we would celebrate achievement, we would take joy in baby steps and hold tight to the faith that we could make it through.  Hope provided the light to help us remember that our son was not autistic.  He was and is... Isaac.  Happy Laughter.