Through his eyes

Back and forth he walked.

Every so often, he would sit down, but was back on his feet in moments.

Back and forth, up, down. Making random comments as he passed.

I was exhausted. I had nearly cancelled our weekend because I was too tired to face the task of packing. Sharp, chastising words were almost out of mouth, but I stopped as I looked at his eyes.

He was sitting across from me, looking right at me, meeting my gaze. He needed me to understand.

I waited.

He said, "Mom, this isn't home."

And there it was, staring at me: Autism.

As my son has matured, the days of constant and intense autism vigilance have lessened. Sometimes we go weeks without facing Autism. But it still lurks in the shadows.

So as my son looked me in the eye, searching for reassurance, he said, "This isn't home. My things aren't here."

And I looked him right in the eye, took a deep breath and said, "I love you. You are safe. But we are not going home. You are going to spend a lifetime making transitions, and this is one of them." 

As I said the words, I prayed them, too. "You will go to college. You will have a career. You will travel with your wife and family. And you will be able to survive it all and sometimes have fun, too."

I'm not sure he believed me, but he seemed reassured. He settled down and enjoyed the weekend. New experiences (transitions and surroundings) are not easy for autistic persons, but we had a good time at the lake. Yes, there were compromises along the way, but he (and his brother) survived and had fun!

As for me? Well, I'm not going to forget looking into those eyes. It's taken years of effort to get this young man to make consistent eye contact. But he can do it. He did do it. And the same boy who (years ago) could not understand what "hunger" was, who could not understand the basic signals of his body, sat down and talked to me and tried to tell me what was going on in his world.

I'm always amazed how God works in our lives. I thought my weekend prayers were simply going to be of thanksgiving for good friends, and a blessed break from the demands of the world. In the end, I was thanking God for so much more: for the strides made over the years, for the reminder of work yet to be done, and for giving hope for the future... to both of us.

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?
Henry David Thoreau

A Declaration of Independence

A few days ago, I made the following post on Facebook. Yes, it's a testimony, but it's more than that, for it's also my declaration. Life is different. Life is good.
Change.
Hope.
Thanksgiving.
Peace.

"There is no way we can be all things to all people. There is no way we can make everyone happy. There is no way we can do all things on our own. 

Being a Survivor nearly killed me... took me to a deep, dark place inside where my only champion, my only hope, was Me. Failure was not an option. I fell further away from God, and deeper into myself. My vision was clouded by despair and hopelessness, hurts, stress, exhaustion, and loneliness. And where did that lead me? No where good. I set myself up for failure. I am imperfect, like every soul on earth.

But this summer, my life took an amazing, miraculous route. At a time when I felt I had hit rock bottom, when I fell on my knees, when I took off my Survivor charm, when I truly understood: "I Cannot Do This On My Own.... I Give It All to God" then Love and Peace took over!

My life changed. My job changed. My focus changed. More time for my children and I. More prayer and meditation. A life truly focused on God and His word and His ways. I said, "Lead me, Help me."

It's been an amazing ride these last 7 months. He has taken me places and changed things inside of me. I am actually stronger and more at peace from letting go of the negatives that held me down. I am healing, getting stronger, focusing on what really matters. That doesn't mean it's "easier" but I do have peace.

I'm not sure where exactly He's leading me, but I now know, I'm really not alone. Those negatives and past hurts that haunted me are gone. I know He will be with me. And I know he's put some amazing people in my life to help me (as I pray I can help them) when life's trials weigh me down.
Thanks for letting me get this off my chest. I know this isn't the popular type of facebook posts where folks spout off about politics or drama. But it was heavy on my mind today. I just wanted to say "Thanks for loving me, Thanks for loving my children, and Thanks for being with us on this journey." 

 

 

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!