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Spittin’ in the Wind

May 24, 2013 By Leave a Comment

Consider the work of God: who can make straight what He has made crooked?  In the day of prosperity be joyful, BUT in the day of adversity consider that God has made the one side by side with the other, so that man may not find out anything that shall be after him.   Ecclesiastes 7:13, 14

Believe it or not, God makes some things c-r-o-o-k-e-d on purpose, and you are WASTING YOUR TIME if you try to straighten them out. I’ve tried. The results are about the same as spittin’ into the wind.

So, if I could go back in time (which, btw, I have NO desire to do), and have a frank talk with myself (like I don’t already talk to myself), THIS is (some) of what I would say:

  1. Honey, relax. If your children get to high school (and I know that’s an “if”), they will NOT be in diapers. (I thought we would never get through potty-training.)
  2. Yes, God knew EXACTLY what He was doing when He assigned each child (regardless of temperament, talents, or disabilities) to you, to parent.
  3. Don’t freak out when your mother, who you greatly admire, declares none of her children were anything like this. God didn’t give them to her.
  4. I know you don’t think you need to change, but you do. And wonder of wonders, this husband, this child, this season of life, is going to help you change.
  5. Remember: Jesus saves. Not education.
  6. No matter what anyone says, there is no one “right” way to educate a child.
  7. Welcome to war. There is no AWOL, so quit looking for an out. Make it count – ask God for ALL the spoils.
  8. You will need help, so get over it, humble yourself, and ask.  Lone Rangers do not last long.
  9. Suffering comes to EVERYONE. (I thought if I did enough right, I could avoid pain. Wrong.)
  10. Sweetie, God is perfect goodness, so His plan for you is perfectly good. It is never, ever pointless pain.
  11. There are RICHES in this dark place. Mine those treasures, girl.
  12. God will NOT fail you or your children. Ever.
  13. Sometimes you WILL feel BETRAYED by God, but it will never be true.
  14. I know you think this will never happen, but when you see the end results, you will completely AGREE with His choices for your life!
  15. You can (and will) live without everything you THINK you need (marriage, friends, children, good reputation, being understood, predictability) but you cannot live without GOD and His Word.

Live and learn. I know I am preaching to the choir….

Affectionately,

Joan

Contact: Joansjourney@chosenfamilies.org

Filed Under: ADD, Bipolar Disorder, Encouragement, Expectations, humor, learning disabilities, mental illness, Uncategorized

Do You Spell Bungee with One “g” or Two?

January 18, 2013 By 1 Comment

Tonight snow is falling … it’s mind-bending to think we were melting in 104 degree heat this time last week, in lands “Down Under” to witness our ADD son marrying a beauty from the Southern Hemisphere (where the water really DOES circle the drain in the opposite direction). It took every last point and mile his dad earned, in many years of travel, for all of us to see this son get married. Well worth it!

If I take the wings of the morning (or United Airlines), and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, (Down Under) even there Your hand shall lead me (in this new stage of life), Your right hand shall hold me (as my children start their own homes). (Ps 139:9)

I will never forget…

… seeing our new daughter-in-law’s country unfold below us, from 30,000 feet … beautiful translucent blue-green waters surrounding her island, wondering how heaven can be MORE beautiful…

… renting the car (AFTER 40 hrs. of mind-numbing travel), the steering wheel on the RIGHT side of the car (otherwise known as the wrong side), AND driving on the LEFT side of the road (also known as the wrong side of the road), in the dark, in the rain, for 2 hours … pure adrenaline flooding me every time headlights zoom past my right shoulder, while my daughter periodically warns, “Mooom!” as the ditch on her side of the car veers too close … Try me, and know my anxieties … v. 23

… the fragrance of stripping and wrapping hundreds of stems of lavender, bridesmaids bouquets … thinking God knows I LOVE lavender … You know me … You are acquainted with all my ways… (v.1,2,3) … and He led my son to a girl who loves these  flowers as much as I do …

… finding the bride’s gown not ironed – after the wedding was scheduled to start – and me, of all people on the planet, who does NOT iron (and God knows this), ending up with the iron in my hand, setting it down on her exquisitely sheer beautiful expensive gown, wondering if I am about to ruin it! THAT moment is seared into my memory! The fact the fabric did NOT melt is a miracle …

… watching the rain and gale force winds outside, having no power to change either to give the bride her dream outdoor wedding day … and no “Plan B”… thinking, “God, what kind of day are You going to give her?”… “in Your book they all were written, the days fashioned for me, when as yet there were none of them …” v16

… hearing the winds subside, seeing the sun peep through, for a single hour … at the exact right hour … beautiful sunlit outdoor memories …

… vows made, prayers prayed, rings given, and my once-a-little-boy-now-man sweeps up his bride, carrying her back down the aisle, through the trees, jubilantly MARRIED! …

… seeing this ADD son so at home at the reception, with all those strangers (to me), in this new country. His disabilities – inability to focus and sit in a school seat to read for hours on end – are now the very abilities God uses to help him transition from country to country, seamlessly adapting to new cultures, new relationships …” You hedged [him] behind and before, and laid Your hand upon [him]. (It seemed only limiting before … but no longer) … Such knowledge is too wonderful … v 5,6

When our son announced his intentions last spring, it shocked us. I was only a little less shocked when, on this trip, our daughter revealed she really wanted to Bungee jump off a bridge (not a crane, cliff, or other sub-level substitute), by her ankles (not a sling or harness) because we were in the vicinity of the ORIGINAL bridge where this particular thrill began. (Divine providence?) So, I will also never forget …

… watching my-little-now-grown-girl free fall delightedly down, down, down into a water filled gorge, hair streaming, voice screaming!

… THEN (I should’ve seen this coming) her daddy had to do the exact same thing, because he, of course, could not let her OUTDO him (and me thinking no bipolar needs that much adrenaline blowing through his circuits, but oh well …)

Just as surely as that bungee cord held my daughters ankles, so her hair only kissed the waters below and nothing more got wet, so God has surely held me in His grip this last month of bouncing around the planet, through life stages, and time zones. Every time I said, “Surely the darkness (of disorder, disease, depression) shall fall on me”… even the night shall be light about me; indeed, the darkness shall not hide from You ….”

Half of our planet is always in the dark, a line our plane crossed coming and going. But not to You. More than half my life is in the dark at any one time, the unseen and unknown. But not to You.

… the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You. v. 11, 12

Thank you, Jesus!

Joan

Filed Under: ADD, Bipolar Disorder, Blessing, Change, God's presence, humor, Journey, Parenting

Cut up, Personality

September 27, 2012 By 1 Comment

Kids with Asperger’s Syndrome (AS) are often identified by their stilted social interactions and inability to assimilate. They “belong” to this disability by notably setting themselves outside the circle of human interactions. But because autism is a “spectrum” of disorders, some AS kids actually prove, in certain situations, to be quite the opposite. These children are clowning, attention-seeking natural performers. My Noah is of the latter type.

Just recently, at a recital during Grandparent’s Day at our school, my eight year old extended a(n un-choreographed) set of jazz hands, and faked a vibrato so loud I thought he was channeling Judy Garland. The audience tittered with laughter, and of course, that was all the encouragement he needed to up his shtick. Noah can be stilted in one-on-one interactions, naturally. This is most true in groups of people with whom he doesn’t regularly associate. But get him in front of an audience, and everyone becomes a friend.

Our home is his vastest studio. Our piano is for his masterpieces (including “Flowers and Blooming” and “Nightime in China,” two of his current compositions). Our largest serving spoon is his microphone. His costumes are his daily wear. His bedroom – a blank slate for his displays.

(Noah, wearing his “protective gloves” and high-waisted pj’s at bedtime. This is his “old man with germophobia” routine.)

(A wall in Noah’s bedroom displaying a Mario Brothers 2 theme – it is flanked on the other side by an Angry Birds poster. Both are essential to displaying his interests (read: obsessions), and he applied them each with piece after piece (after tiny piece!) of vertically-arranged (and assuredly essential!) Scotch tape.  God help me when I take them down.  See also my previous post on the essence of his displays and how they represent Noah’s personality.)

Noah, as a natural mimic with an exceptional memory, often spouts bits of dialogue and comedy he’s taken from television and movies. He’s learned, through observation and practice, when to insert them at the right time. (This is, by the way, not a natural Aspie trait, as they have difficulty with socially-appropriate and/or well-timed dialogue.)

“Noah – there are shavings all over your bedroom floor! Did you take the guinea pig out again?!” “I tried mom, but it was too risky.”

After a day at school – “Look you’re probably going to be pretty proud of me about this, but I got my own Bible today. And it’s not just any Bible. It’s a HOLY Bible.”

“I am the King of all Crusades!”

Communion at church? Followed by an infamous, “Mmmm! Refreshments!”

Noah is learnedly hilarious. There is a large personality lurking behind that awkward exterior of his. And when it’s out, I’m taken aback by the effort he’s exercised to incorporate himself appropriately into the everyday social milieu. He’s done everything he can to bring himself in, to be a part of the lives of those around him, not circling the periphery like so many with Asperger’s do. And this reminds me to thank him for being a cut-up, and for his magnificent personality.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Family, humor, school, Social skills, Uncategorized

Food for Thought

September 7, 2012 By Leave a Comment

…to one who is hungry, even bitter food tastes sweet.   Proverbs 27:7

I just want to say if you have a loved one very sick in the hospital (which I do) such that you are practically living there (which I did), though not actually registered on their census (as I was not), then I have a pretty good idea what you are eating if you don’t make it to the cafeteria ‘downstairs’ wherever that is. YOU are not filling out the daily menu requests, nor perhaps is your loved one, because they are too nauseated to THINK about eating, much less dwell on multiple lists of food … which can only mean your tray is either all ‘clear liquids’ (and they do mean colon cleansing clear), or, in my opinion, the more interesting “you left the choice up to us” tray.

It goes without saying, but I will say it anyway – those particular menu selections sent up anonymously by The Cafeteria (and I can’t even guess whose job description includes this creative task) appear to be taken from the daily category of boy-do-we-have-A LOT-of-THIS-leftover-today … because, and here is the salient point – the whole rest of the hospital’s in-house patients and cafeteria guests did NOT choose that particular menu item (for reasons which became obvious the minute you lifted the lid).

Not only that, but you, my friend, are gleaning from what is LEFT on said tray after your loved one has picked it over – a right they totally earn from whatever diagnosis lands them in the bed in the first place.

I’m just saying, it can be slim pickins’ … and if some dietician, somewhere, were to look at my food journal for those 6 weeks (if I had such a thing) they would surely cross themselves and pray for my soul, if not my body.

I’m not complaining. Just agreeing with God’s point when He said, “to one who is hungry, even bitter food tastes sweet.” This obviously applies to teenage boys, but definitely includes moms like me. If I don’t have to shop for it, pay for it, or cook it, I am, by definition, grateful to eat it. I just find the resulting diet amusing, if not fascinating.  If “manna” translated means “what is it?” then I had me some manna.

Put away anything resembling the food pyramid. YOU, dear one, are likely to have a complete meal of green jello (unidentifiable fruit inside), a square of slightly dehydrated white bread minus the butter pat, and last but not least, melted strawberry ice cream in a paper cup – the kind you ate in grade school back when LBJ was president. If you get a meat, it has gravy on it. And don’t get me started on the gravy. It is brown. It covers whatever meat is hiding under it, which I suspect (if I was even slightly paranoid) is something deliberately concealed since I’m pretty sure whatever it is/was never mooed, clucked, or oinked.

All of this to say, today I ate a bowl of summer squash (I think it was summer squash) which was sooo smooth, I am convinced the last time I had squash with THAT texture was out of a baby food jar. My OWN baby food jar years ago. I’m not lying. I was shocked to taste something triggering that memory!

In case you were wondering, this has nothing to do with hidden disabilities. I’m just sharing my quirky sense of humor as I affirm God’s proverbs are SO TRUE, as I face things hidden (other than meat).

Full,

Joan

P.S. My abject apologies to any and all hospital dietary workers everywhere!

 

Filed Under: humor

Of hypervigilance and time zones

August 4, 2012 By Leave a Comment

I am in Birmingham, Alabama and up before the dawn.  No really, it is still pitch black outside and I should be sound asleep.

I arrived to the hotel late last night after our flight was cancelled for mechanical difficulties.  We had been delayed 4 times over the evening, which should have been our 1st, 2nd, 3rd, and 4th clues.  But no, they waited until the flight landed 2 hours late to inform us it was being cancelled.  The good news?  They were giving us a hotel voucher and rebooking for in the morning.  The other good news?  We would get our bags!

Ok, not happy that I would not see the Royce boys but very happy I would at least get my bag and a little sleep, I headed with 30 sleepygrumpytiredirritableunhappygrateful campers to the line to get rebooked, hotel vouchers, and shuttles.  Almost an hour later (I was at the end of the line) I was sitting on the curb with said sleepygrumpytiredirritableunhappygrateful campers waiting for the shuttle to arrive.

Now for any of you who know me, I am really not a night owl.  I am normally up around 5 a.m. each morning and off to the gym by 5:45 with a dear friend.  We burn lots of steam, solve the problems of the world, and come out a little over an hour later dripping wet but happy and grateful.

So when I arrived at said hotel late last evening I knew there would not be much sleep to follow.  I set my watch, requested a wake up call (you can’t be too careful about these things) and laid my very sleepy head down for a few hours sleep.

When my running watch went off this morning I was out of bed before I could even blink.  I turned on the coffee pot and went in to brush my teeth.  I waited for the back up call to come through, not wanting to be in the shower with the phone ringing incessantly.  2 minutes, 3 minutes, 4 minutes passed and I am waiting (impatiently as you can tell).  I thought about the fact that my watch is a few minutes ahead of my bedside clock at home and decided to pop in the shower anyway.

I was dripping wet before it dawned on me that, HELLO!  My watch is on Eastern time zone and Birmingham, Alabama is central time zone.  It was really an hour earlier and I was wide awake.

So here I sit, reflecting on the humor of my life, and grateful for another reminder that I can at times be just a wee bit hyper-vigilant.   For those reading this, you probably get it.  Volumes have been written about  this tendency among parents of special needs kids.  It is one of the reasons I run – it burns some of that stress off and allows me to rest more effectively.

So I am up and ready an hour early, sitting at the airport now.  Good morning to you too.

Wide awake Alert and Strong,

Shannon

Filed Under: Gratitude, humor

Silence is Golden

May 17, 2012 By 1 Comment

I swear sometimes, I’d pull a Van Gogh to get a little quiet in my house.  I’ve tried every permutation of “Be quiet!” I can think of, including but not limited to, “Zip it!,” “Let’s play the quiet game!,” and “You make me want to stab my eardrums with an ice pick!” I am not proud of these of course, but there is only so much volume a human can take.  There is a reason air traffic controllers wear protective headgear, after all.  Not a one of my children is a quiet personality, preferring to observe rather than partake.  In fact, they all partake so much that I’m often tempted to hide in my closet when they start a screaming tattle fest so that Matt has to break it up.

I marvel at other people’s quiet children.  When visiting my brother in California a few months ago, I asked him where his three daughters had gone to – it was so quiet in the house!  Like, 30 straight minutes of quiet. “Oh, they’re in Jozy’s bedroom, playing.”  “Why can’t we hear them?”  “I don’t know…” he trailed off.  “SAM! I don’t understand it! WHY ARE THEY SO QUIET?!”  Sam, who is likewise quiet, shrugged his shoulders.  “Beats me.”  My friend Rhonda’s children are also
perfectly tame-tongued angels.  She well remembers the weekend we spent at the beach and all 10 of us were seated around the table, with my three in the throes of torturous wailing, and her three, sitting quietly and coloring on their placemats.  I was bereft for weeks, thinking I’d been doing something wrong.  My kids can’t even whisper quietly.  You’d think they were raised in a wind tunnel.

Our house occasions a constant stream of chatter.  Take Noah’s recent report on George Washington Carver.  Lines like – “would you want to hear this remorcibill [sic] story? Ok then.” – demonstrate the way he is as much a presenter as anything else.  I guess this is part of who he is as a kid with Asperger’s – the stream of chatter is one-sided, oratorical in nature.  There is nothing he loves more than an audience.  Ask him how his day was, and he will relay the whole thing down to the detail of what peg he hung his coat on, what chair he sat in, what the student next to him had for lunch, and how long their recess was.  His is not the quiet form of autism.  But it’s apparently the best possible form for our uniquely woven family, loud as we are.

As a natural introvert, I have prayed often for a quiet house.  I am energized by solitude and silence.  But I didn’t marry a quiet man (ostensibly, the first of my mistakes in this regard).  And then comes the realization that were my prayer to be granted, my mother’s quandary wouldn’t disappear, it would simply be different.  My brother’s youngest struggles to speak at all, and she is almost five.  Another mother-friend of mine tells me that while her middle child is quiet and introverted his emotions are locked tight beneath his studious exterior, and she angsts over pulling him out.  Quiet children are no easier than loud children.  They just require earlier cochlear implants.

It’s times like this when my children’s screeching provides a setting for my writing that I can’t do anything but laugh.  Even as I typed that last sentence, my daughter Grace said to Matt as he was toweling her off in the bathroom, “Daddy, it’s hard having three kids, isn’t it?”  To which he and I burst into simultaneous laughter.  It’s the loud kids, the vocal kids, the verbally expressive kids who often come up with the most hilarious stuff.  Stuff we might have missed if our house were more serenely silent.  Psalm 32:3: “When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.”  My children aren’t ones for internal groaning.  They’ve learned that sometimes, a kid has just gotta let it fly.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Family, humor, Relationships

On Laughter

May 2, 2012 By Leave a Comment

As a family, we watch a lot of movies.  They are almost all comedies (except for the Star Wars Trilogy, on which I have developed a strange adult fixation).  For us, movies are a way to relax and a way to connect.  We watch tv together, sharing food, laughter, pillows and blankets.

My husband loves to laugh.  He does not laugh quietly.  He is a “falling off the couch while laughing” kind of guy.  And he especially loves any kind of slapstick humor.  So when we find a movie that Ben likes, the entire family enjoys it more because of his genuine, childlike enthusiasm and laughter.

Because of Ben’s problems with short-term memory, he doesn’t always remember what movies we’ve watched.  So we watch movies repeatedly.  A lot.  Over and over.  Add to that the fact that he has no visual memory, he does not remember movies in the same way that we do.  He can remember funny moments.  But he can’t remember who said the lines or what movie the lines are from.  And if he hears a funny line, he will automatically laugh out loud and say, “What movie is that from?  We haven’t seen that movie in a long time.”  And the rest of our family will groan….

It’s gotten to the point where the kids and I no longer want to watch some of our favorite movies due to overexposure!

The other night, I created a game for our family to play.  I knew that my game would either make Ben very angry or he would be able to laugh and enjoy the game with us.  I didn’t mention anything to Ben ahead of time.  I took my cues from how he had been acting all afternoon and at dinner.   I took a chance and called the kids together to play a “family trivia game.”

We’ve played family trivia games before, always using Candy Corn as the prize for the winners who get the question right.  But instead of asking standard trivia questions (Bible verses, historical facts, movie actors), I called this game “Movie Memory Trivia.”  I would quote a line from one of our favorite movies.  Ben had to name the movie that the line came from.  If he couldn’t, the turn would pass to the kids and they would all yell the name of the movie and receive the candy corn.

Praise God, my husband enjoyed the game.

This game could have come across as mocking Ben’s disability.  I certainly did not want to do this.  Instead, we ended up laughing together as a family because of something that is unique to us…Ben’s poor memory for movies.  This silly game was a time for us to celebrate our unique family culture as we rehearsed dialogue from our favorite comedies and watched Dad convulse with laughter as each time as though it were the first time he heard these lines.

Hidden disabilities can be hard on a family.  I am thankful to God that we can still keep our sense of humor and find ways to be at peace with the life and some of the circumstances God has for our family.

The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot.
The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.
(Psalm 16:5-6 ESV)

~Nancy

 

Filed Under: Acquired Brain Injury, Family, FUN, humor Tagged With: , ,

Preaching the Gospel by “Doing Nothing”

March 25, 2012 By Leave a Comment

Famed Welsh medical doctor and minister Martin Lloyd-Jones tells the story of his mother’s reaction to his first sermon. When Martin asked his mother for her impressions of his oratory, his mother looked lovingly at him and said, “My dear son, you missed several wonderful opportunities to sit down.”

Lloyd-Jones’ propensity for the excessive use of words reminds me of my interactions with Fletcher. Since my little man is non-verbal, I will tend to supply his words for him. “We” have wonderful conversations on most days. However, there are some mornings that he lets me know, albeit not as kindly as Mrs. Lloyd-Jones, that I have missed several opportunities to close my mouth.

On one recent school morning, Brenda was having a time getting Fletcher ready. He had not slept well the previous evening and he was whining, crying, and screaming as she tried to get him dressed. It was so loud that it shook the walls in our home and moved me to leave the sanctuary of my devotional time to investigate the cause of the uproar.

As I entered the room, Brenda gave me that look that said, “If you love me, and you don’t want me to kill you, you will do something with this little demon!” Then she did the most unsettling thing – she had the audacity to leave the room! I thought, “Uh oh, what am I going to do now?”

With my mind racing, I sat on the couch beside my little troublemaker. As I sat there, I tried to think about what I could do that would settle him down. To be honest, it was difficult to concentrate with him screaming, but I just sat there beside him, deep in thought about how to help.

Then the most extraordinary thing happened. Fletch moved closer to me and started gently rubbing my arm. This surprised me; I then thought, “Hey, if this will shut him up, I’ll keep doing nothing.” It was astounding. As I sat there “doing nothing,” he settled down, and a few minutes later his mother returned and easily prepared him for school.

Of course, she was astonished by my exceptional parenting skills. I even earned the nickname The Fletch Whisperer. (Of course, my pride forbade me to let her think any differently!) But the truth is, I comforted Fletcher by simply “doing nothing.”

As I reflected on this experience, God helped me see that sometimes the most important thing we can give our children is the gift of our presence. Saint Francis of Assisi once said that, “We should preach the gospel everyday, and when necessary, use words.” I think that Fletcher has helped me better understand this profound truth.

In addition to my little fair-haired mentor, the scriptures also demonstrate how this “preaching the gospel by doing nothing” comforts those in agony. Think about Job’s friends. They hear this horrible news about their friend, they come to see him, and things are so awful, that all they can do is sit there with Job in his pain (Job 2:11-13). As long as their mouths stayed closed, they comfort their beleaguered friend; but, as soon as they begin speaking, Job’s condition rapidly deteriorates.

As you think about the ways that you show the love of Jesus to your children, I want to encourage you to spend a portion of your week by preaching the gospel to them by “doing nothing.” They will love you for it, your spouse will think you are the best parent ever (which of course you are), and your Savior will smile and lovingly rain his grace down upon you.

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, humility, humor, intimacy, Parenting, Relationships, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , ,

The Flow Down

March 22, 2012 By Leave a Comment

There is an adage about the trail of “garbage” flowing from highest to lowest point. I will spare you the particular vernacular, good Christian woman that I am, but suffice it to say that there is a certain curse word involved. I’m pretty sure it originated on “The Sopranos.”

From Noah (though he is beloved) flows much garbage. I’m realizing this to a greater daily extent now that we have a puppy. Our older family dog, Jackson is too tired to fight Noah’s molestations; his tail-pulling, his attempts to ride him (Jackson’s 40 pounds and a mere 18 inches high). God bless Jackson’s tan little heart. We’ve been spared many a trip to the emergency room by simple virtue of his advancing age and disinterest in fighting back. Similarly, our massive guinea pig is subjected to finger pokes through his habitat, while Noah grunts and yells at him. I often open Noah’s door to find the guinea pig high above his head like the cub Simba in the “Lion King.”

The fish escapes everything, what with that glass cube of a tank she lives in. Noah doesn’t like slime.  Plus, the hole in the top is too small for Noah to get his hand through.

Zelda, however? Well. She gives Noah the what-for. She is prone to bursts of puppy energy, nippy behavior, tugs-of-war, and barking fits. Unfortunately, all this feeds Noah’s aggression. Noah’s heart is pure, his spirit is merciful. But his lack of empathy extends to both his siblings AND his dogs. I’ve seen Noah wrap his hands around Zelda’s throat and shove her to the ground with all the force he can muster. I’ve seen him kick her and pull her ears. Thank God for another wonderful companion because Zelda thinks it’s all a game.  Despite these beat-downs, she continues to lick her gratitude and love all over the face of anyone who pets her.  And my pleas to Noah that “It hurts her!” and “How would you feel if YOU were kicked?” are useless. I get the “I’m just playing, mom!” or “I wouldn’t like it if someone kicked me.”   These are the practiced answers that temporarily satisfy me.   Then, when my back is turned he’s right back at it again.

This one puts up with it.

This one does not.

Of the group of children in the neighborhood, Noah is the eldest. He’s daily reminded to set a good example. And it starts with the “least of these” (Matthew 25:40) – the animals we’re blessed by God to be loved by. So my heart burns with the anxiety that the pets we love – they who don’t understand Asperger’s or the fact that Noah loves them despite their mistreatment – might be better suited to another house.  I worry that as the years wane, Zelda will become aggressive toward others because of what she was dealt at a young age.

Though these worries result in only hypothetical action.  We are animal “lifers.”   Didn’t give up dogs after having kids, didn’t flush the Betta down the toilet though she looked more algae than animal.  Didn’t even give away the guinea pig after Noah’s room started to smell like a petstore in the Florida everglades.  Our family has committed to loving these animals for as long as we are blessed to have them, as we are commanded to. “The righteous care for the needs of their animals” (Proverbs 12:10). We strive for righteousness in the care of all those entrusted to us. So Noah will go on being reminded to be gentle, kind, and mindful. Even if he doesn’t understand how.   And maybe we can redirect the flow.

- Sarah

Filed Under: Asperger, Challenge, Family, humor, Uncategorized Tagged With: ,

God’s Grace and Patient Zero

December 26, 2011 By Leave a Comment

The Hardin household is once again entering that special time of year. I am not talking about the Yuletide season; no, I am talking about the cold and flu season. What do I mean by that? Lets just say that our son Fletcher is a very giving young man, and it never fails that he “gifts” me at least one sickness during this time of year. You may be thinking, “If you know that this tends to happen every year, why don’t you do something about it?”

That is a good question, and its answer is slightly complicated. You see, there are several things about Fletcher, our relationship, and me that make my proclivity toward illness as predictable as Christmas falling on the 25th of December.

First, Fletcher deals with apraxia, a disorder in which he tends to put everything, and I mean everything, in his mouth. This of course means he tends to store germs in his jaws like a manic squirrel stores acorns on a late autumn day.

Second, although Fletcher is non-verbal, that does not mean he cannot communicate. Fletch tends to mimic Judge Reinhold’s guest character on the sitcom Seinfeld by being a “bit of a close talker.” Said another way, he often attempts to communicate with me by placing his forehead against mine while giggling joyously at one thing or another. This provides me with plenty of opportunities to receive anything that Fletch may have for me.

Third, Fletch demands that he and Dad have their “wrestle time” every single day. Now sometimes big brother Tucker stands in for me, but for the most part, Fletcher doesn’t feel complete until he and I have had our bonding time, a time that was so much easier for me when I was younger and he was smaller. His persistence in wrestling me cannot be avoided; he will grab me by the hand and pull me over on the couch until he has had his fill (usually around 15-20 minutes) of connected time with Dada.

Fourth, I have never met a cold virus that my body didn’t want to promote to a full-blown case of sinusitis. Whereas my little Patient Zero will bring a cold home, he rarely ceases to function at less than optimal speed for more than a day or so. Me on the other hand, will get really sick for a few days, the kind of sick where I find myself making deals with God much like Burt Reynolds’ character in the movie The End. You know what I am talking about, “God, if you allow me to breathe  through my nose again, I promise to give you 100% of everything I earn for the rest of my life!” You may be thinking, “If Fletcher makes you so sick, why do you go around him when you think he has a cold?”

There are three reasons:

1. I love my son. The Scriptures say, “love covers a multitude of sins” (1 Peter 4:8). As I have grown in my relationship with Fletcher, I now have a slight appreciation for those pastors who ministered to afflicted people during times of plague and disease.

2. I love my God. When I interact with my disease-ridden little fellow I am serving him and meeting his emotional needs. I do this not only because he needs me, but also I do it because that is what I am supposed to do. Fletcher needs his “wrestle time” as badly as the wounded man needed the Good Samaritan’s compassion (Luke 10:30-37).

3. I trust my Jesus. Although I am the biggest wimp in the world when it comes to being ill, fortunately, I don’t have to rely upon my own strength during such times. Jesus’ words to Paul are Jesus’ words for me: “But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me (2 Corinthians 12:9).” No matter what I am exposed to, I know that Christ will give me the grace to get through it, including anything that Fletch may give me.

With these things stated, I must go for now. I can hear Fletch’s fiendish laugh as he’s coming down the hall. It’s time for another round of wrestling. Before this impending Battle Royale, I need to go take another antibiotic because Fletch looks determined to win this time!

~ Todd

Filed Under: Autism, Challenge, Family, FUN, grace, humor, Parenting, Relationships, Trust Tagged With: , , , , , , ,
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