A forgotten population? Invisible to the world. Hidden away in day habilitation programs, and their parent's homes.
I wondered one more time about the vast population of thousands upon thousands that so few SEE.
Does the world pretend that our children don't even exist?
Today I was reading the story of Jesus walking by the pool of Bethesda. My heart lept when I read that Jesus made a beeline for the man who had been disabled for 38 years.... I wonder what it felt like for that man to be seen? Really SEEN! A man who had always been invisible...38 years he sat beside that pool, but then he had a miracle...he voiced his hopelessness to the savior of the world.
"I have no one to put me in the pool..."
"I have no one to put me in the pool..."
Jesus saw him when no one else cared that he existed. When no one was willing to help.
Maybe he was born that way, or maybe he was injured? Maybe he was angry overall he had endured?
We don't know the answers to any of those questions, and yet...what we can all agree on...is that the vast majority of the population looked the other way.
"Now a certain man was there who had an infirmity thirty-eight years. 6 When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he already had been in that condition a long time, He said to him, “Do you want to be made well?”7 The sick man answered Him, “Sir, I have no man to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up; but while I am coming, another steps down before me.”8 Jesus said to him, “Rise, take up your bed and walk.” 9 And immediately the man was made well, took up his bed, and walked.
Those of us sitting by the pool, rarely glance up at the rest of the world. I wish I could say our families always see us, that all churches see us, but... in general, we are the heavy baggage, the difficult population that needs so much.
Sometimes in my prayers, I agonize..."Is this just the way it is...or should I refuse to accept it? Demand equality? Scream to be seen?"
I remember doing that, back when Britton was entering into the Early Childhood program. I wanted him to be just as important as every other student. I was that naive young momma who loved my boy and couldn't imagine the school system, not caring properly for him. If I could go back in time I would give my younger self a giant hug, and ask if I could pray for me.
I'd pray that God would give me much thicker skin, faster. That I'd open my eyes sooner, and not constantly refuse to accept what my eyes clearly told me was true. The years did bring thicker skin and I did accept the things I couldn't change. (Though I still believe most of it can be changed. Yes I'm stubborn.)
The things I cannot change are hard to swallow...sanding away year after year at my hope.
I wonder when I stopped screaming that my son deserved to be seen? I don't remember honestly, but I do know that somewhere along the way my voice became an echo that only those by the pool could hear.
I'm glad I didn't know any of those things back then. I just loved my son, and I thought the rest of the world would love him too. I often fall in love when I meet a new autism momma who has not yielded. The vibrancy and commitment to making the world better for her child infuses me again...and we lock arms and we keep on pushing.
Recently a young momma came to me describing her son's classroom. How it was not set up with the proper equipment. How her son needed more space, and the stress of it had caused him to be covered in eczema. I understood I understood it well. More than 18 years ago, it was the inadequacy of the classrooms for those with special needs that were one of my first big shocks. (One year they made a classroom for him out of a storage closet. You can't make this stuff up.) I will never forget the principal looking at me in shock. She then explained in small words she hoped I could grasp, "your son is not "entitled" to a great many things that you want for him. You cannot expect him to be given the same education as a "normal child. That is very unrealistic." Lucky for her I was in shock, and my heart had not grown the callouses, nor the armor that would come over the years. Ten more years of rejection under my belt and that conversation would've gone very differently.
I became my son's voice.
I watched the news and the country lose its mind over the brutal, ugly, pointless murder of a black man, George Floyd.
It sickened the nation and we all grieved over the injustice, and a lot of folks couldn't believe their eyes. The truth was difficult to swallow. It was murder and horror and so we all ugly cried, as a nation...grieving we wished to do something!
But I remembered barely a week before --when another unthinkable situation appeared on the news.
A woman by the name of Patricia Ripley...a momma who had a son with autism. Her fifteen seconds of fame...she murdered her autistic son.
A woman by the name of Patricia Ripley...a momma who had a son with autism. Her fifteen seconds of fame...she murdered her autistic son.
He was only 9 years old. I'd like to say that someone else saw the story. That the world was outraged and people rioted, and held signs and screamed that "Vaccine Injured Lives Matter," or "Autistic Lives Matter!"
But none of that happened. Even those of us who are living the same life in the shadows knew that nothing would be done. We would lay by the pool, and no one would see us.
As a momma who has wrestled the world of indifference towards autism for more than 29 years,
I might have some idea of why she did what she did...
I may raise more than a few eyebrows when I suggest that perhaps...if someone SAW HER, she would've made a different choice? If someone offered a respite day or even a sympathetic ear? If someone acknowledged
the intense burden that she struggled to live every moment of every day. (Lots of long nights too.) If the government that is totally complicit accepted any responsibility...if friends and family didn't run?
I guess we all manage our lives with autism aka vaccine injury as best we can. I have friends that stay angry a lot. Most of them become warriors on the front lines, demanding that people SEE the ugly truth!
Some of us fight...by speaking out when we are asked... I write as much truth as I think I can get away with. Pulling back the blinders on what it is like to live with autism. Trying my darnedest to give a real-life glimpse into my son's brutally difficult life.
The truth that there is an entire population laying by the pool, with no hope of being helped.
The truth that there is an entire population laying by the pool, with no hope of being helped.
I do realize that that outside of this tribe will struggle to digest most of this.
The world has told them that those laying beside the pool deserve to be there. It's best to look
the other way. But maybe, just maybe...some of them will open their eyes and see what they were
once blind to?
Those of us who call ourselves Christians are supposed to be Jesus to the world.
We are supposed to SEE, and we are supposed to ask the question. "Do you want to be made well?"
As the world continues to pretend to be blind to the plight of a great many things...
the numbers of those diagnosed with autism grow and grow. It will be hard to look the other way when
there are more of us than there are of them.
When there are no longer more normal children than vaccine-injured ones.
there are more of us than there are of them.
When there are no longer more normal children than vaccine-injured ones.
When the vast majority's voice gets louder and louder...
the roar of the pain of dismissal will reach a crescendo and it will shake the earth!
Vaccine Injured Lives Matter, especially when it's someone you love.
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If you have procrastinated until now to get your copy of The Choosing....
HERE is the most recent FIVE STAR REVIEW
"Reading this book, while reminding me all too well of what little regard others have for our "Britton's"
and "Brandon's" - has also rekindled the absolute truth and justice we must continue to believe in.
and "Brandon's" - has also rekindled the absolute truth and justice we must continue to believe in.
That while evil runs rampant, it is not in control.
That the worst thing our enemy can do to us, is make us be like them."
Buy the book. Read it. Share it with someone who isn't affected by autism so they can be enlightened.
Thank you, Britton Holman - your story has raised me from my own ashes of late.
PSSSTTTT - (I'm whispering) The sequel NO CHOICE will be out in November... I promise you guys the first four chapters BEFORE
