No More Words

Words have incredible power. My son had limited verbal ability the first few years of his life. When he began speaking shortly after he had ear tubes placed, it was a glorious miracle. He understood how words can change the world. As he has gotten older, and closer to the teenage years, he is learning how sarcasm can have power over whether or not he will be grounded. Words can either hurt or heal.

When we speak, we are sharing our power. If we use positive words, we are sharing positive vibes. Negative words equal negative power. When you constantly say that you don’t have x, doesn’t it seem like that’s all that shows up? It’s the same thing with money. When you go around saying I don’t have enough money, I’m so poor, I’m so broke, blah blah blah you are giving your financial world view negative power. If you go around saying that you’re fat, have no willpower and can’t lose weight-guess what? What you think is what you get.  The Big Man always tells me that he is incredibly practical and a realist (which is most certainly is, to a fault), and doesn’t believe me when I remind him to think positive. I go so far as putting books like the Secret and the Power of Positive Thinking on his nightstand.

I wasn’t born a little ray of sunshine. My grandmother especially, always looked for the other shoe to drop. I remember whenever someone shared good news or a compliment, she would go “tut tut, don’t say that”-basically negating the compliment. That is basically telling God that you don’t want those blessings.  No one in my family of origin is a positive person. To me, it’s exhausting to constantly be looking at the dark side of life. It’s so much easier when you see the good in everyone and everything.

Fly to the Angels

There are at least seven archangels, depending on who you are referencing. Most sources consider eight, possibly nine, with the inclusions of Metatron and Sandalphon. Some consider them to be ascended masters as they were said to have lived as the prophets Enoch and Elijah respectively. I consider Metatron to be an archangel in terms of my belief system. He is considered to be the angel of life, recording our deeds in the Book of Life. Most of our understanding of Metatron, comes from the Kabbalah and the apocryphal Book of Palaces.

 

Metatron is part of new age philosophy with his cube. It is a figure made of 13 equal circles with lines going from the center of the circle to 12 other circles. It is considered the most sacred piece of sacred geometry and is considered a representation of the tree of life.

 

Metatron is the angel who holds the link between human and divine. Many go to Metatron for help discovering personal spiritual power. I spend time with him in hopes of making the world a better place and bring glory to God.  

 

He is the patron for Indigo and Crystal children. Indigos are considered strong willed, headstrong, creative,  probably diagnosed with ADD or ADHD and were born after 1978. Crystals are easy going, most tend to be vegetarian, usually non-verbal until 3 or 4, have issues with chemicals and environmental pollutants, and tend to be placed on the autistic spectrum. Several of my new age friends have told me (one is quite persistent about it) that the Little Man is a Crystal child. Without going into much detail, he and I do have a telepathic type bond (I think all moms develop that, especially living life on the spectrum)

Complete Control

The Little Man is not very little anymore. In fact, he’s almost as tall as I am! 

He is officially done with grade school, 

and off to middle school this fall. Now that he’s “grown up”,

 there are a lot of changes happening at home. I can no longer send him to the couch or naughty corner for time out, because he’s an incoming 6^th grader.

 Taking away toys or ipad time isn’t always effective, and sometimes I think it’s not really teaching him anything. I am fortunate that he’s a really good kid. My son rarely if ever lies. If he comes across something questionable on you tube or on line, he will bring it to our attention almost immediately. We try to keep the lines of communication open and no topic is really off limits.

That being said, he can still be naughty-he’s still a kid and still learning and exploring his world. Add to it, autism and that can just amp up things. Over the years, we have tried a variety of parenting methods  and styles, but wind up in the same place most of the time-frustrated and dealing with the same behaviors and issues over and over again. Part of the problem is how he sees and interacts with the world. Nothing can ever completely overcome sensory challenges, but we can do our best to limit them. As time has gone on, I for the most part, can figure out what is a kid being a kid vs. autism/sensory behaviors.

One thing that has worked for us, and continues to work is using Beyond Consequences. It is a parenting methodology designed for families dealing with reactive attachment disorder. I am not comparing autism to RAD, but there are some commonalities with the rages and meltdowns and behavioral concerns. Being able to divorce myself from my own emotional state at the moment I can help him  understand why what he did was the wrong choice. Much of the time its either we are asking him to make a transition from one activity to the next (transitions are super hard for him) or to do something he doesn’t enjoy (like homework or cleaning his room). By validating his feelings, we are letting that connection take place and even solve the problem at hand together.

I am not saying this happens all the time, but when it does, its magic.

 

Here’s a real life example of just how awesome this exchange can be:

 

Scene: hanging out in the living room, little man is playing on his ipad. I am reading a book and listening to music. I remind him he needs to practice piano. [this is a transition from one activity to the next]

 

Meltdown ensues.

 

I ask why he’s upset. He responds he never gets to have any fun. Lots of crying and yelling.

 

I can either respond in kind or take a deep breath. I choose the latter.

 

I tell him, I understand that you are upset. You got to play your game after dinner. It’s now time to practice piano, and then you can go back to your game. I know it’s hard for you to go from one thing to the next.

 

He continues to be angry and yelling at me. [note: this is common autistic behavior. He is not in control of his emotions and can’t help it] I let him rage for a little bit. He knows he’s safe, and I make sure there isn’t any self harm or anything potentially dangerous.

It can be uncomfortable. It is painful to watch someone you love unconditionally to be that upset over something (that I think anyway) is trivial.

After a bit, he calms himself down and is “regulated”. At this point, we can get to the core of why he is upset. He tells me he wanted to get to the next level on his game, and it would take a few more minutes to get there. At this point, we discuss what would have been a better way to communicate this to me, and he said that next time he will tell me that he wants to finish the level. I get a giant cuddle.

 

I let him finish the level, and he goes on to practice piano for the next 45 minutes (15 minutes longer than I ask him to practice). The next day, we are in the same situation, and instead of a meltdown, he comes across the room, shows me his game. He spends the next 10 or so minutes sitting next to me, explaining the game and including me in something precious to him.  He goes on to finish the level before practicing piano.

 

If I had just forced the issue originally and taken away his ipad, the meltdown would have been worse. It would have gone on for a long time, at a high intensity, and nothing would have been gained. The piano would not have been practiced. I would be spent, he would be spent, our house in chaos.

 

Beyond Consequences doesn’t always work, but even when it fails miserably, we still are able to maintain that connection. My son is learning to reason out his behavior and figuring out what works and what doesn’t. For that, I am grateful.

Oh, and cuddles too.

Rock me Amadeus

I grew up going to the Young People's Concerts at Lincoln Center. It was a wonderful introduction to classical music. I developed a discerning ear and quickly learned what I did, and did not, like. For example, I learned I loved Beethoven, but wasn't excited by Brahms. At the time, I was taking piano lessons and playing violin in school (neither of which I had any talent for) so it was exciting to hear something I could potentially learn how to play (albeit much more simplified). One of the most memorable moments for me was a Mozart concert.

There were pieces from throughout his life, but one that stuck with me all these years was from the Magic Flute.

I don't particular care for the opera itself, but the presentation was visually stunning. I remember two performers, in brightly colored costumes dressed as birds, in a giant cage.

Now that I'm a mom, I realized how important it is to instill an appreciation of the arts. When the little man was younger, we attended the equivalent to the young peoples concerts offered by the South Dakota Symphony. I listen to classical NPR in the car. We volunteer with the Sioux Falls Jazz & Blues Society, so it's a big part of our lives. I probably would have started taking him to concerts earlier, but autism doesn't always allow for attention spans. 

He's at the totally perfect age to go, and the holiday collage concert was the perfect place to start. It was a great night out to help kick the holiday season into high gear. Check out this video for a preview:http://youtu.be/Hz90uyHGWf4. 

The symphony and chorus performed some familiar holiday classics, as well as some newer ones. There are a variety of performing groups within the symphony, including an Irish quartet, brass, string quartet and even a rick band.

The Little Man loved the rock interpretation of My Favorite Things. The show ended with a sing a long of Christmas carols. That was my favorite part.

Like everything else with autism, the symphony presents it's own unique challenges. There is concert etiquette, for example. Even though he's 11, we still use social stories to prepare. We checked with those sitting around us if it would be ok for him to use his iPad when his attention started to wander. Despite enjoying the choral music (click here for a sample:  http://youtu.be/y5aGv6WdTws) it's sensory overload, so he buried his head in my side. 

It was a great, grown up night out and a welcome event during the busy holiday season.

The Rainbow Connection

My son learned to read when he was about 2. By the time he was in preschool, he was reading books on a 2^nd grade sight word level. Despite not really having functional speech, he was able to read books clearly, carefully enunciating each word.  Despite that, he didn’t really talk to us or even with us. I didn’t get bombarded with the typical toddler why questions. However, he knew his sight words. He could recognize shapes and sounds and the world around him. He loved to spell too. He had a spelling toy that he quickly grew bored with because the words were not challenging enough. The most frustrating piece was that he would use phrases from books or movies as his conversation, which is called echolalia. Sometimes what he parroted was related to what the topic of conversation happened to be. Other times it wasn’t even close, and one had to decipher what was being said.  Even today that happens when he’s super excited or very tired. He exhibited all the classic symptoms of hyperlexia, which is defined as:

 

The precocious ability to read words without the prior training in learning to read, typically before the age of 5.

 

It is extremely common in autistic kids. It is thought that somewhere between 5 and 10% are hyperlexic. As his verbal acuity developed, there was less of a dependence on reading, and more on speaking. By the time he was in 2^nd grade, reading was now more of a chore than a desired activity. As part of his homework, he had to read for 20 minutes any day (not just limited to books-it could be anything). We were struggling to find something that would pique his interest and make him want to read. He loves dogs, and I found this great blog called Love Always, Bear. 

It was the original “dog with a blog”. It was written from the dog’s point of view, and always was sweet and adorable. Bear was a golden retriever who was a rescue, who lived with his “parents”, and brothers Oliver and Fuzz (who predeceased him) and his two sisters Rosy and Annie. All were rescue dogs (my favorite breed). The mom liked to dress them up in outfits and take pictures, much like I used to do when our dog was a puppy. The posts were always entertaining, and Little Man looked forward to reading them daily. When the parents went on vacation to New Zealandand there was a several week break, we went through Bear withdrawal. As my son grew, we still looked forward to reading Love Always, Bear together. He especially loved it when we would tweet Bear and get a response back.

 

Sadly, Bear became ill earlier this summer and had a poor prognosis. This past weekend, he crossed over the rainbow bridge. Our hearts break for Bear’s family as they mourn his loss. We are grateful that a dog encouraged a little man to read for pleasure and more. We will always love you, Bear.

Twice as Hard

My son started camp yesterday. 

It was unplanned, as he originally was going to be home with the Queen this summer. However, my mom is still in the nursing home, 

recovering from her health scare. The Big Man went back to work yesterday as his cellulitis has healed. This means lots of changes that for a 10 3/4 little man with autism, are really really REALLY hard. 

Change and transitions are difficult for most people without a sensory disability. For my kiddo, when things get tough, he melts down. Imagine the ferocity of a toddler tantrum in the body of a tween. That's what happens. Add to it the developmental aspect where it's not cool for mom to hug you, it's hard to soothe. I used to be able to hold and rock, but now that we're older, he's decided it's too babyish. Now I have to stand by and observe as he works through a meltdown. 

It's painful.

I wish I could pinpoint triggers, but they aren't always evident. Sometimes it's because he's over stimulated-too much noise or movement in his environment. Other times its frustration over being told no or wait or not now, because the moment is now. It's a very zen concept. 

Yesterday, there were so many transitions and changes. It started with banging his leg. Then he lost the straw to his juice box. It ended with a tearful phone call and me leaving work to go get him. My heart sank. 

All I wanted to do is hold him and make him feel better. I wanted to wave a magic wand and take the trauma away.

Instead, we went to the park.

He ran, climbed and scooted. I watched, observed and prayed. 

We returned to balance.

May today be easier and not as hard.

Gratitude

There is a movement that is the antithesis of Black Friday consumer madness. It is Giving Tuesday, which promotes charitable giving, instead of buying material goods. While I am all for presents under the tree, I am also all for giving to organizations that touch my heart.

My grandmother and I were incredibly close. She was my best friend and my birthday buddy. She also suffered from high blood pressure for years, and as time marched on, developed congestive heart failure and atrial fibrillation. She had a pacemaker and her aortic valve replaced. Eventually, it was complications from a stroke that took her from us in 1999.


Thanks to the Heart Association, more women are aware of their risk factors and what they can do to prevent heart disease (#1 killer of women).



My dad took on the daunting challenge of raising me when he married my mom. He dealt with my teenage years, and made it out alive
. My father in law served as a great role model to his three children and later, our own families. Both are linked by colon cancer.
Even though they both lost their battles
However, their legacies live on. They are both memorialized at the hospitals in NJ where they were treated, as well as here in Sioux Falls.

I have a few difficult to shop for folks on my list. I found the solution several years ago by donating to both Heifer International and Nets for Life, both of which make a difference in the lives of families across the globe.

Another cause close to my heart is autism . My son has high functioning autism, and quite frankly I'm more interested in developing treatment protocols that ensure every child who has it can receive a quality education and have safe, well trained staff.

If you don't want to give money, you can always bake goodies or serve a meal at the Ronald McDonald House as well as give items on their wish list. Every year, my son and I bake and decorate cookies and bring them for the families staying there while their children are in the hospital. They have a wish list that can be filled by a trip to the grocery store.

Please share what you are doing for Gratitude Tuesday-write a comment, post on our Facebook page or tweet using the hash tag #gratitudetuesday. Lets make this a movement! gratitude-the Beastie Boys

Drain You

Tonight was an epic homework battle. I am sure parents of non autistic children experience battles too, but I doubt that they rival an autistic meltdown. It went from 0-100 in a nanosecond, that ramped up anger. Words screamed, doors slammed, feet stomped.
I'm turning my back on you forever.
You ruined my life.
All these hurtful words over a spelling worksheet. My son, who I once prayed would speak, now uses that voice I longed for to cut, wound, stab. It was a simple assignment that took less than 5 minutes to complete. It was 45 minutes to get to the table to do so.
Needless to say, after I got done prepping tomorrow's dinner and cleaning the kitchen, I collapsed onto the sofa.
I had complete control of the remote and stumbled on Nirvana Live at the Paramount. They were/are/will be a favorite band. Something about them and the rawness of their sound brings me back to my early 20's. I was a college DJ and slowly regressing from the hair metal I was playing on my show to more punk and grunge and back to my roots. Underneath it all, I'm still that snotty little (SLC) punk, and grunge let that side loose again.
There was an energy that Kurt Cobain had that was so "I'm too cool to let you know that I'm rocking out". They led me down a wonderous garden path that I'm still exploring.
Nirvana begat Pearl Jam, Soundgarden & Alice in Chains.
They also reminded me to listen to the Red Hot Chili Peppers and Mr Rollins. I shied away from the hair metal that I was blaring and began to listen to music that really moved me. I went to lollapalooza. I even got my belly button pierced. My changing taste in music was the final nail in the coffin of a toxic relationship.
It empowered me.
Hearing nirvana live instantly transported me to seeing them live at Roseland in NYC. I was in my early 20's, and was into seeing bands live. I had seen fugazi there earlier that fall and was so excited to see nirvana. They were the biggest band in the world at that point.
I was at a precipice in my life as well. I had just started dating the man I would later marry. I started a job training new staff for a major corporation. I was embarking on a new post college life.i had one foot in my youth and the other in adulthood but still straddling the fence.
Less than 6 months later, I was heading towards domestic bliss and Kurt Cobain was dead.
The show ended and I snapped out of my reverie and back to reality. Dishes to be done, bedtimes and more. Despite being drained I need to muffle through.

We Are The Body

I had the honor & privilege of presenting at my church's diocesan convention on Rhythms of Grace. This is my baby, my passion and my ministry. Like most ministries, it found me, not the other way around. One of the biblical personalities I most identify with is Jonah. He said no to God, and even ran away (an oversimplified version of the story).
I had a similar, albeit less dramatic, journey.
My religious persuasion is decidedly Episcopalian. Unlike other traditions, mine is quite fluid and non traditional. Different churches incorporate other elements, whether its combining the ethereal of Celtic spirituality or Lakota language. I have chosen consciously to follow this spiritual path and brought my family along for the ride. My ride also includes inclusive worship.
My son has high functioning autism. Certain situations are tortuous to him, causing something akin to physical pain. Church, my sanctuary, my haven, the place where my soul sings and soars, is one of those places. The confines of the pew represent a prison. The longstanding Anglican chorister tradition is torture, punctuated with organ notes.
Church is not a place to find God.my son finds Him in other places.
I searched for a way to reconcile both.
The answer came, surprisingly, in my twitter feed. A female episcopal priest,, and mother of an autistic son, promoted a church service she celebrated at Epiphany, Walpole. Entitled Rhythms of Grace, I had to learn more.
That still small voice screamed in my my ear:
DO THIS.
I wish I could say it started and has been fabulously successful. Sometimes we are the sole souls in the sanctuary. Other months, there Are many crowded together. Like life with autism, it is unpredictable and quite the roller coaster ride.
That still small voice sent me.

For more on my workshop, click here
http://caregivingstinks.wordpress.com/2012/09/23/good-church/

Only Mama Knows

My son has blonde hair, brown eyes and autism. He sees and experiences the world differently than you or I do. He sometimes has odd behaviors that soothe him, and may make you feel uncomfortable. His syntax is sometimes a little strange, other times he struggles for words.
He has difficulties with auditory processing. It's a big fancy term for the fact that if you give him a series of things to do, he doesn't understand. When he's given instructions, they need to be broken down into smaller. Chunks. I can't give him a honey do list and expect it to be done. It needs to be step 1, then step 2 and so on. It's a struggle in school, and even at home.
Due to autism, he sometimes has an agenda radically different from other people. When he starts doing something, he needs to complete it. It. For example, he loves building with Legos. If he's building something, he can't just stop until it's done. This is sometimes at odds with the rest of the family or in the classroom.
His behavior can be puzzling too. He reacts to his environment. When he's overly stimulated, he may run around. He may hide. Sometimes he screams. It's unpredictable, which is not what teachers or coaches want to hear. He doesn't have behaviors to be naughty. When he says he doesn't know why he reacts a certain way, he truly doesn't.
Anxiety is a way of life.
If I could, I'd be there every step of the way, guarding him and protecting him. In reality, I can't. I have to let him out into a world that he doesn't always quite understand. I have to trust that. Those around him support him and have his best interests in mind. I have to trust that my son will try to confirm to society's norms as best as he can., even if he doesn't understand why.
I've made a concerted effort for him to experience as normal a childhood as possible. He has played soccer, basketball and baseball. He starts on a bowling team this morning. He takes art and piano lessons. We do outdoor education programs. But that's all window dressing. I can provide a superficial normal life, but the bottom line is he will never experience life like his peers.
He doesn't see or react to the world as they do. His birth parents, those that were charged with providing unconditional love and support, rejected him because he has autism. As a result, i surround him with more love. It stabs me through the heart when I see him ignored by his peers. I turn into mama bear when I hear about bullying at recess. I ache when he struggles because I can't make it all better.
My son has blond hair, brown eyes and autism.

See How We Are

This is back to school week in my world. My son is going to be in 4th grade this year, which is a rather pivotal year in the grand scheme of things. He is going to have more homework, higher functioning with learning (hello long division!) and more responsibility. I don’t know who this excites more-me or him!
There is a reality flip side to all of this too. Underneath it all, at the end of the day, he still has high functioning autism. I can tick off all his accomplishments-no aide, toilet trained, functional language, makes eye contact, few obvious stim behaviors, no toe walking and more-which are all wonderful triumphs. Sometimes, we even forget about the autism for a few brief shining moments. The quirky behaviors can amuse us, and lull us into thinking that all is swell. However, there is still autism, no matter if you call it Aspergers, PDD, ODD, HFA or whatever alphabetical combination and permutation du jour exists. There is still awkwardness in social interactions. He doesn’t understand why people don’t want to hear every aspect of the 479 Hot Wheels cars he collects. He doesn’t do well on the phone with people since he can’t detect subtle things like sarcasm or voice intonations-he needs to see the body language and pick up his cues that way. Play dates are hard too, because he doesn’t understand why if they are at our house, the friend doesn’t want to play his way. It’s a sincere attempt to be “neurotypical”, but it doesn’t always succeed.
The beginning of the school year is always hard, with new sights and sounds and smells. Having to explain his situation, his likes and dislikes and all that works and doesn’t for him is exhausting. Getting used to how a new teacher does things is a challenge, and my kiddo likes to push the envelope as far as he can. With the increased level of learning and work required, I am already steeling myself for increased meltdowns. I am prepared for tears and screaming and door slamming over homework.
I prepare for the worst, and hope for the best. Reality settles somewhere in between.

Asana of the Week: Shark Pose

Last Saturday was the last class of my Yogi Junior classes until the end of June. I love teaching kids, and it's so rewarding when they tell me they have used breathing techniques in school or before a game or they use a flow at home. It makes it even more rewarding. Yogi Junior is a 6 week series on Saturday afternoons from 12:30-1:15 at East Bank Yoga (8th & Railroad Center) offered on a rotating basis (see the calendar for more details
http://eastbankyoga8thandrr.blogspot.com/p/calendarfees.html?m=1).
Over the course of the class, we spent time learning a variety of poses, starting with basics and graduating to more difficult poses in a fun, safe environment. Each week we have a theme-on the farm, outer space, under the sea and more. We start with a story, then we do breathing exercises, warm ups, play a few games and then get down to business with our flow. Afterwards the kids get a takeaway (stickers or whatnot) based on the theme.
It's so much fun, and yoga is such a great life skill for kids. They learn to focus, stretch muscles and build strength and develop stress management skills. I've seen the difference yoga has made in Little Man's life. For our home practice, we use the Yoga Pretzels deck, which is so much fun to play with!
One of my favorite poses is from our under the sea adventure: shark pose.

To do it, you need to lie on your stomach. Raise your chest and legs off the mat (locust pose) and reach hands behind you. If you can grab them perfect! Hold for at least 2 breaths.

Sanctify Yourself

I'm really exhausted. Fatigue cerebrale en francais. It's not physical exhaustion, it's an emotional exhaustion. I'm really tired of swimming upstream, especially since I'm not a salmon.
Having a child with special needs, no matter how "high functioning", is hard. The levels of tired I feel from just trying to get out of the house in the morning are mind boggling. The levels of tired u feel trying to convince a willful 9 year old to do homework is staggering. Bath time and bed time battles would exhaust Job's patience.
Those drain me. Is it any wonder that the little energy I have left is parceled out sparingly. I try to keep up with the house, but it seems to explode around me. My living room has currently been overrun by hot wheels tracks. My kitchen island is occupied by a Lincoln log village. Lego vehicles are scattered about the kitchen, bathroom and the rest of the house.
My home gym/yoga studio shares it's space with the video game area. I haven't worked out all week mainly because it's a disaster down there. The prospect of tidying up is daunting, even though it should only take 15 minutes. I just can't face it in the morning.
Not to mention the playroom. I feel myself bristling going downstairs. It's frustrating because it seems the moment I clean it, it's a disaster again.
Cleaning up for a neurotypical child is a challenge. For an autistic child, it's as if you're asking them to amputate a limb. The screaming, the stomping, the meltdowns sometimes are enough for me to just wind up doing it myself. It's because I just can't take it another second, and despite wanting to teach my son the necessity of tidying up, I can't face it.
Sometimes you need to just walk away to keep the peace. So I have. Little Man has enough on his plate right now. They are doing standardized tests in 3rd grade. He has struggled all year with the fact his friends are noticing he's different. He's noticing he's different.
I can't make the world change for him. I can't wave a magic wand to make it better. If I could, I would. My house would be spotless. I'd make gourmet meals every night. We would have dance offs and sing alongs. Joy would be the overriding emotion in our house. Laughter would be heard all the time. Wed smile and snuggle and have peace. No one would be exhausted and the fatigue cerebrale would be non existent. Long walks in the moonlight, counting stars would happen all the time.
A girl can dream can't she?

Blue

My son has autism. It is because of this, that he came into our lives nearly 5 years ago.
He is verbal; that is he has functional language to communicate. Sometimes his turn of a phrase is unique, and I chalk those up to little man-isms. He is in a regular class at school, without an aide. He still has his struggles, especially when he doesn't see the purpose of an assignment. The meltdowns are fewer as he gets older, and his natural intelligence shines through.
He has friends, but his social skills lag behind that of his peers. The gap is narrowing, but instead of it being grand canyon wide, it's less of a fissure. That deficit is his primary "symptom". It also is what bullies prey on: little man wants to be friends with everyone. It makes me nervous about the teenage years looming ahead, with peer pressure, but I like to think I've grounded him with a strong sense of morals and values.
My son has autism: when he is excited or stressed out, he flaps his hands. When he's overtired or overstimulated, he has a meltdown. Imagine a toddler tantrum done by a 9 year old, that's what it is. If it happens in public, there are the stares and whispers. Just because my son has an invisible disability, don't judge.
Many years ago, we were in a different church, and he got antsy because the service was long. He wasn't the only kiddo wretching around but he was singled out and we were asked to leave.
I will never darken that church's doorway again.
Despite that, my son has a deep, abiding, sustaining faith. He loves God, and knows that God loves him. He may not receive communion but can explain the doctrine of transubstantiation better than most priests.
He truly has joy in his heart.
He makes me laugh, cry and drives me crazy sometimes. I never knew how much I could love another human being until I became a mother. And he loves me.
My son has blond hair, brown eyes, is a string bean, obsessed with hot wheels, star wars and Mario and has autism.