Roars and Whimpers

This morning, Autism kept rearing it's head. 
Not in a bad way, just a continual way. 

En route to the doctor's office, he asked me an awkward social question. It was related to women who were walking along the downtown streets. I responded in an exasperated manner, "Why do you keep asking me about this? What is your fascination?" In an equally exasperated fashion he said, "Mom, it's not about sex! I wonder about the diseases. Why would anyone do that to themselves?" 

As I drove along, we had a long discussion, I thought back to a training I'd attended a few years ago. At it, I learned repetitive comments about negative events or situations are not always simply an "obsession." In the words of one of the adult autistic presenters: "Repeated negative comments and questions help me get rid of bad or sad things in my head. If I talk about it, I don't have to keep thinking about it." Then I thought about the repetitive questions. I realized I have to teach him more about choices -- and how some people feel they have none. I have to help him see beyond his black and white world and accept the grey areas. And I need to help him empathize, not judge. We will work on this, I will work to help him understand.

He was antsy at the doctor's office, despite heavy work this morning. He couldn't stop talking. He tried, I could see his effort, but it was as if a switch has been flipped to ON. When we got home, he told me he needed to use the restroom. And it clicked. I thought back to the sensory, to the Occupational Therapy. Sometimes when the biological need to use the bathroom is great, he has trouble processing the message his body is sending to his brain, and his behaviors increase. It had been a while so it caught me off guard. I hadn't thought to ask him if he needed to use the restroom. I should've asked, should've thought of it... I will work on this, work to remember.
 
During the doctor's visit, one of his repetitive behaviors was addressed, and ideas discussed. It appears he has caused some damage to his skin. It can be cured, over time, but the behavior has to be addressed as well. We discussed ideas, and the doctor backed me up, even talked at length while making Robert look her in the eye. Her talk made a difference, she got through to Robert.

When she turned and looked at me, she said, "You're doing a great job." I thought I was going to cry.  I know God has me. He is my rock and my hope. But I am human, and I get tired, and sometimes I feel I can not take this disease called Autism even one minute longer. But that's just emotion. We can take it on, we can tame it. At the very least, we will work on it!

I think back thirteen years. In my hopes, fantasies, prayers -- my sons were the strong, articulate young men of today. But back then, I didn't know if those dreams would come true. I don't know if other dreams will come true. What I do know: through God's abundant grace and our hard work -- we are taming Autism one day at a time. Ever so slowly, we are backing it into a corner. Sometimes it whimpers. Every great while it roars.

But, we will work on it
... And we will move forward!

Reflections on a Band Parent's Rookie Year

The only mementos of my high school band years are an old letterman's jacket, a baton, and some yearbook pictures. Somewhere along the way, I got rid of my rifles and flag pole, but the memories -- they remain. I loved it all: the sweat, the tears, the losses, and the triumphs. But time marches on, and in this chapter of my life, I'm a high school band Parent. If life unfolds as expected, I'll be one for four more years.

I really thought I had a good handle on things, certainly knew why I wanted my sons to be in marching band, but I didn't realize how much I would learn in my Rookie Year as a band parent.

* I can never say "Thank You" enough to my own parents. They were there to drop me off and pick me up, at all hours. They encouraged me, they sent in money they didn't have, let me go to band camps to refine my skills, made me practice for hours, sat in cold bleachers and under a hot sun... simply and profoundly, just because they loved me. I took this for granted as a child, now it humbles me.

* This isn't your Mama's band. Gone are the days when students packed a sack lunch, loaded equipment on school buses and went off to competitions. Bands roll with 18-wheelers hauling equipment, and parents hauling trailers. Shows are now full-fledged productions with giant backdrops and assorted props. Parents are setting up tents, generators, and grills at competitions to feed children. They haul countless coolers of bottled water and gatorade. They set up satellite tv so the band dads (eh, everyone watches) can watch football scores between performances. We're a mini hard-ware store: hammers and wrenches, duct tape, bungee cords, and velcro. "Do we have more zip ties?" 

* Don't be afraid of the rookie mistake. Understand it, embrace it -- You're a rookie and there's a lot to learn. When you have to work the concession stand the first time, volunteer to be a runner, don't go straight to grilling. Ladies, forget fashion, dress comfortable at the competitions. Pack an extra jacket. If you're wondering "How can I help?"  don't be shy. Pitch in, and keep pitching in. Pick up trash, run errands, and learn. Let the other parents know you care and are going to be around a while... they will really appreciate your help because we need more parents involved. Bands can not function without a good band boosters program! This year - rookie, next year - grilling.

* I never realized how much my band director did for me. I didn't realize it when I was in school, but band directors are truly a very special breed of teacher. Who among us but the most devoted would take a couple hundred teenagers and teach them how to achieve a goal greater than themselves? Who would give up their weekends, summer evenings, and family time so they can teach our children how to bring out their best efforts? Who does not give up, even when students want to give up on themselves? Who helps us teach responsibility and hard work ethic to our children? Who is self-less enough to put up with the assorted concerns of the parents of a couple hundred teenagers? Go tell your band director "thank you"... then do it again.

* You're not the only one. You're not the only strict parent. You're not the only parent who still teaches values and morals. You're not the only parent who cares about your children. You're not the only parent who worries about their children. You're not the only parent who is proud of your child. You're not the only parent who wonders how they're going to pay for things. You're not the only one worried about sending them far away for camp. You're not the only parent who wants something better for their child. And for some of us: You're not the only single parent... It takes a little time, but as you meet other band parents, you find out: You're not the only one, and you're not alone.

* God is alive and at work in all of our children. They might not even realize it, but every day our children demonstrate His love in their actions. They demonstrate His love when they help a younger band student learn how to fold their jacket, when they give pep-talks and encouragement. His grace is apparent when they defend one another, speaking up for those who can not speak up for themselves. They demonstrate His care when they give of themselves. When their band-mate is thirsty, they give them drink. ("Did you get some water?") When they're hungry, they make sure they eat. ("My mom sent pop-tarts, who wants some?") God's unity is alive when students gather to pray before performance, and when they give thanks afterwards. 

In these band students, and their families, I see displays of God's love everyday. Unexpectedly, but powerfully, my rookie year has been a lesson in hope!