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.