When you have Asperger’s you wake up every morning in a strange new world. You scan your room to make sure you still have four pillows. You look to see if your books are stacked neatly the way you left them. Your lampshade is tilted just enough to shine the light at the bedroom door. Your cars you lined up on the window sill are now neatly put in your blue bucket not the red one because that one is for your legos. Ok, it is now safe to climb out of bed. I watch Caleb walk over the dirty cloths and miscellaneous toys to go to the bathroom. It is the one certainty in the morning. He has lists in the bathroom, bedroom and kitchen to help him get ready and prepare him to leave at a certain time. His head stills spins widely out of control. We pick out his cloths the night before but he still forgets to change his underwear. The first time I told him to put on deodorant he proceeded to rub it on his entire body, face and all. He has a bucket with deodorant in it but he doesn’t remember to put it on. He has to make his bed but he forgets. Since he has already checked his pillows, to him his bed is complete. He has to pick up his room but he only sees his buckets are in order and lined up. He does not see the trash and cloths that I see. He forgets to brush his teeth so we have a toothbrush in the kitchen so it will remind him.
Being an Asperger’s mother makes me proud. I love his attention to detail. I love that he puts all of his energy into something he is passionate about. But with the teenage years creeping up on me, new problems are now arising. He has learned hopelessness. He lacks self-confidence and is beginning to act out. He has developed poor problem solving characteristics because he can’t handle situations. He has to be taught through every problem. He needs to know how to handle it and work through it so he can function with confidence and competency.
These children do not have a choice. We are their voices. At times they are truly victims of their circumstances. We are so tempted to lose our patience. But, to have mercy we need to have mercy on ourselves. All they need is encouragement and the love to persevere in any situation.
Italo Calvino said: The more enlightened our houses are, the more their walls ooze ghosts. Image credit: “love Don’t live here anymore…” – © 2009 Robb North
I look at this house and see the western sun filling the windows with a warm amber glow. I see the loving family embracing the children running in and out. I also see the family very rich in love while only providing the bare necessities of life. My 10 yr old sees sadness. He cannot see passed the dilapidated house with no windows whose previous owners cold not have enjoyed the supplementals of life.
How could I as a mother have failed so much? I thought I had taught my children about selfishness, and having a proper attitude. Not to see things from the outside in but to look at a person’s heart to find their true identity. I write this as I hear my boys fighting in the next room as they are playing on their newest hankering, their “precious”. My husband calls the xbox the “precious” because if left up to them, my boys would play on it day and night. They began to plan their days around it. If I call them for dinner they eat as if they are mesmerized by the hum of the power button in the next room.
I begin to think though why not love this game? My son does not have to change who he is to play it. He does not have to please a loving member of the family so that he can hear them say I love you. He does not have to face the pain and rejections that occur when we are around family that may not have the patience to see him for who he really is. He sees this old house as a self-portrait. A strong sturdy shell but hollow inside.
My job seems to be a little harder at times. Every day is a challenge to keep him from slipping into a depression that others see as controlling and demanding. It hurts to be alone. It also hurts to walk into the lion’s den. Imagine the fear he feels not being able to spend time with family because he is afraid of what might be said to him. My younger son just knows that something is not right. But each of them know about sharing and love. We have a unofficial cookie ministry for their friends. If someone is sick or in need, we bake. I have one that cooks and one that gives them out. I truly have the best of both houses.
Plane Crash. Bags flying everywhere. The captain standing at the front of the plane telling jokes in his Dallas cowboys pajamas. What a vivid imagination for a 10-year-old flying by himself. Through the eyes of a child life seems so unbalanced. These mystical experiences can seem so dangerous but, are they?
As a child our perspective is simple. It is life that messes it up. There is an intimate purity and love that can only be seen through a child’s eyes. At this time of year lights sparkle. Neighbors and friends give out cookies and cards. So why as adults are we so dismal? We are reminded of the loss in our lives. We try to replay the past holidays as if we can perfect the details of those gingerbread treasures.
We also hear the story of the birth a baby born to a virgin that ultimately grows up to die in a tremulous way. This story can be frightening for a child who hasn’t learned the power of sinful forgiveness. But he shines in everyone. He gives these little ones companionship and virtues. His intimacy guides them through experiences no mortal influence could.
Your substances belong to Jesus. Let no one defeat you… “little ones to him belong, they are weak but he is strong”.
Sisters are the pinnacle of sacrifice, responsibility, purity and love. There is no place in the heart of my sisters for hatred since all have fallen to sin and been forgiven. We each show a sense of security and well-being that has been rooted in us by the stability of home and family.
My seasoned sister radiates self-control, human kindness, and respect. She has a marvelous magnetic personality that demands control.
My mezzo cohort has a gift to turn struggles into solutions. She is a companion that will cheer me to the greatest heights. She will stand hand in hand with me for any biblical truth.
My puerile peach has a jovial, jaunty sparkle. Her days shine with thankfulness and empowerment. She is a visionary that sees the world with a formative, hip edge.
The glue that holds it all together is a spiritually protective mom that unites us with the power of prayer. Her sacrifice and love helped heal our family but she never forgot who gives us true companionship.
LOVE YOU ALL!
There was an old man with a vast art collection. It grew year after year with van Gogh, Picasso, Matisse, and Monet. He loved collecting art and loved the beauty it brought into his home. After his son became old enough to delight in his father’s work he began collecting also. For years the two employed a vast assembly of art pieces and objects, The pieces hung magnificently displayed in the house. The son soon went off to college leaving the man to tend to the art himself. As he walked by the paintings he was reminded of his son.
Shortly after he was informed that his son had died in action. He was visited by a solider who knew his son. The soldier presented the man with a painting he made while the two were stationed together. The painting was far from professional but it became the man’s favorite. He displayed it proudly and bolder that all the priceless art. Soon after the man died. He left his collection to be auctioned off. The auction started with the painting of his son. All brokers from near and far came to get a glimpse of the priceless paintings so they were shocked when the auctioneer started with such a simple painting. The bidding started with no gavel raised. Finally a man in the front row raised his hand and bought the painting for $10. When asked why, he said he knew the boy growing up. The auctioneer closed the gavel to the astonishment of all the collectors. In their amazement they asked what about all the other paintings? The auctioneer said the man made it clear in his will whoever got the son’s painting got the whole collection. No one comes to the Father except through me…….. compliments of Heritage Baptist Church..
My eldest son is very protective of his little brother. I will find his brother on the floor in his room after a nightmare. He is loving and very sensitive but at times you would not know that because it takes him longer to process directions. My younger son just hangs on to his brother’s shirt tail as if he is feeling out the situation before he acts. Are they scared of me? Saturday morning brings the normal traffic. The smell of coffee and pancakes.
This is my happy. It trickles out of a crack like a slow leak. It is not completely filling up but it immersing just enough to feel favorable. As valuable as I feel right now as a mother my peacefulness swiftly changes.
I begin to navigate the day. I sit at my desk with an expectation I await for daily. It is a little piece of accomplishment but every day I wait. I have no control over it. It haunts me as every day passes. I let it consume my animus like a black cloud that hovers over desenegrates and fills me up again with dark ash. Just as peaceful as it began it ended. I am now sensitive to every noise that encompasses me. The boys running in and out of the house. My husband tinkering with whatever is on his agenda today. We are now going to start the pumpkin carving. My controlling nature does not mix well with their screams and gentle laughter. I know they feel my tension through the fun. I still have my cloud but as my activities change and increase the trickle of glee might start to drip again. I am controlled by my surroundings and the things I cannot change.
Slaves used to sing a song “Follow the drinking gourd.” It was a code to follow the north star to the underground railroad. Frederick Douglas although an escaped slave himself, criticized the movement. He felt it would allow slave owners to be more aware of these escape attempts therefore making it harder for the slaves to escape.
A Domestic violence Hooligan is aware of all these past devastating tools. These slave owners will hold on to every ounce of your spirit. They will recite their criticism reiteratively. Many of us look back and feel inside our timid little hearts, descriptions from a person who has chosen to withdrawal from a family instead of giving the unconditional love the family needed for survival. This is a devastating blow. Words can be the most camouflaged thing in a house. They can pull a child apart and leave her empty. The only happiness she can feel is when words of criticism are spoken. “Her” words make her comfortable.These are the words she is familiar with. They pull her into a dark space in her mind. She feels powerful and rapacious there.
She will stay there. Her misery will grow and develop in more spaces where she will save her sadness. Look for God in your difficult places. He will never leave you or forsake you–Hebrews 13:5. We never have to question his words.