Somedays you sure don't see it coming.  I had struggled through the morning, which is what usually happens.  Britton wakes up, runs down the stairs, and wakes us all up before the alarm goes off.  Man I'm tired.  It has been over a year now that he hasn't slept past 5, usually it's more like 4:30am.  Yes that includes Saturday and Sunday, autism doesn't care what day it is.

But today as I struggled, we did our usual routine.  Once out the door, we head to do some Mom and Britton time.  Sometimes we grocery shop, sometimes we walk at the park.  We spend about an hour and half together before I head to the school.  Today we stopped by Walgreens, because it is one of his favorite bathrooms.  Yep, I said bathrooms.  Britton is a bathroom connoisseur if there is such a thing.  He prefers them clean, and secluded.  That way he has it all to himself, and can use each stall, and each urinal separately with no interference.  It makes him happy, and calm.  Walgreens is always kind to us, and I always buy things.  He picks out snacks, and he opens the drink refridge repeatedly begging for a coke.  He rarely gets coke, and now that I know he can, he only gets a coke if he SAYS COKE!  Which is rare, as a matter of fact until today he had only said it once.

We stood at the snack/refridgerator aisle and he went back and forth.  This feels like and hour, but it takes about 15-20 minutes.  I rarely notice if anyone is watching, only if we get in their way.  Today there didn't seem to anyone in the store but us.  It was super early.  Britton blurted out "COKE!"  I was so stunned that I stopped what I was doing and hugged him and tears ran down my face and of course he did get a coke.  We took the coke, and all the things I buy, (e.g. light bulbs, dish soap, toilet bowl tablets) and went to check out.

The lady at the counter says to me, "You don't know how I look forward to when you come to the store."  I was busy watching Britton organize the gum and the candy at the check out.  He doesn't buy them, but he makes sure they are all in the right slots and neatly stacked.  I looked up and said, "Oh goodness, why is that?"  She says....

"When you come in here, I am always reminded of God's love for me."  Of course I was taken aback.  I said, "that's awesome, how do we do that?"  She said, "It's because you are so patient and kind.  Your love for your son radiates from you, to him.  No matter how difficult he is, you patiently redirect him, and help him do better.  So I know, that if there is a human on earth that can do that, that my heavenly Father will always do that for me.  He always whispers to me about you."

Well now, if that isn't some kind of morning I don't know what is.  It's only Wednesday and it's been a very hard week.  Britton is struggling with some physical ailment of which I can't seem to put a finger on.  (No surprise there)  So he is stimming and wild, and agitated.    My sons caregiver of nine years will be leaving us in less than 6 months.  I have no idea how to replace her.  The pressure, because I have to work more now...we have so many changes going on at work.  With Obamacare crashing down, we have so many overwhelming changes that don't even seem possible to make.  But you see, our clinic is not OUR clinic, it belongs to God.  Trying hard to remember that, and rest in my faith. Then there's all the employee changes as my office manager, (and daughter) heads off to Law School.  The grief I feel is overwhelming, because I know I will never see her.  (I know this because my oldest went to Medical School, and it's been ten long years and she is just NOW heading home, next month.  TEN YEARS!)  Not one birthday, very few holidays, every vacation, she missed it all... Now the 2nd daughter will miss it all for years to come.  sighhhh    God keeps reminding me, THERE ARE NO COINCIDENCES!  NONE, ZERO!  There's so much more, but you'd stop reading if I told it all to you.  :)

So here I am, standing in the Walgreens, crying like a baby.  Britton is stimming and jumping, and laughing.  The lady is saying, "I didn't mean to upset you.  I wanted you to know you are a blessing."
It's hard to believe that the struggle, the difficulties, the impossibilities of my life, matter.  You too?
Well I guess we never know what God has in mind.  We never know, who God is pointing us out to.
My mind shifts to Job, and I'm certain that he never had a clue that God had bragged about him.  Given the choice, none of us choose difficult situations.  But at that moment, the blessing that I felt come over me was worth it, at least for a moment.  I felt so loved, so bragged about... by God.  I can't imagine it.

I drove Britton to school, and he reached over and wiped a tear from my face and kissed me.  Then he grabbed his backpack and went hopping into school.  My God is an awesome God and He knows when we can't go any further without at least a word of encouragement.  This life, this horribly difficult life that we battle through, does matter.  If to no one else, it matters to God.  He watches, He brags about you and me.  He is apparently, at moments even proud of His Warrior families. So pick up your sword again, and "run quickly to the battle line" my friend.  God is watching, and he might just point you out to someone else.

Hiking the world with Autism

I know it's been a while since I blogged.  Not really but since I posted one.  Some are not fit for anyone's ears but the good Lord.  Besides that, I've been crazy busy with Britton being home since May.  Also, we got to go to Kauai, again.  I know what you're thinking, "those lucky dogs, they always get to go!"  Ahhhh the peaceful, wonderful, perfect weather, it's totally paradise. We are lucky, or rather blessed.  It's so amazing... we feel do feel lucky, grateful, amazed, blessed... every time we get to go.  God has given us this gift.  I am beyond grateful.  He knows this about me.  :)

The thing is even in paradise, autism is autism.  It's stimmy, and touchy, and refuses to sleep, and always demands it's own way, refuses to swim in the ocean for the entire vacation.  Demands to go to the bathroom in every place we go.  There's no relaxing on a beach, reading a book, walking down the beach hand in hand looking at the sunset.  No doing the kind of things that we and of course you would do on a vacation.  Nope, autism's needs, do not cease to drive my son, and subsequently us, completely batty no matter where we are.
We work all year, we save and save for that vacation.  We build it up in our minds and then... autism has its own plans for us.  But we have the good moments, the huge smiles, the words he is able to speak while we are there, his comprehension increases to almost a normal level it seems.  So, we take Britton to Kauai, for those understandable reasons, sadly autism has to come too.

I want to tell you about one of the hikes we did while we were there.  It was our last, long hike along the ridge line of the Napali Coast.  One of the most beautiful places I've ever seen.  It was an amazing, hike, in Kauai's perfect weather that feels like constant air conditioning.  Briton was enjoying this day, and I kept trying to get a picture of him, skipping, and smiling, and enjoying the hike.  He would skip, and hop along, (while we panted and climbed) he would bend every fifty feet or so,  and touch his knee to a rock or a tree.  I have no idea why, he just enjoyed it so much.  Super fun to watch him enjoy himself.  It is a rare thing on a daily basis.  Mainly because, Autism not only drives us to our wits end, it is a cruel master to Britton as well.  Taunting and tormenting him, all while he is trying to adapt to this world that rather ignores his existence.  sighhhhhhhhh  No vacation from autism for him either.  :(

As we hiked I began to think about how similar a difficult hike is to navigating a life with autism.  About how the trail is "unmaintained" and how the reality is, (for our family, and hundreds of others Britton's age) no one has gone down this trail before us.  Every time I came to a neon orange flag that was a reminder that "you're still on the trail"... I was thinking... oh how I wish for trail markers on this "hike" through life, but there are no markers, no one has been here to mark it.
That means I'm to tie the streamers and leave a path for the next family.  God and I talk a lot on these walks, I think and think, (like Wiennie the Pooh) and God and I "reason together."
Watching Britton, hike, and hop, and skip happily up the trail, I decided that I'd not done a horrific job with him.  I mean, how do I know if I've done really good or really bad?  I spend far too much time condemning myself for all I haven't been able to accomplish.  (Masters Degree in Self Condemnation)
I spend hours regretting when I've gotten angry with someone who definitely acted STUPID.  Somedays I default into the mentality of "pawns and puppets, and realize that I'm trying to decide whose victim I'm going to be."  I start telling myself how powerless I am, that God is going to do, what God is going to do...and hey being God's victim is better than being anyone elses, right?  But by the time I think it all the way through and try to imagine God being okay with me being even His victim, I realize that God always replaces victim, with victory and I look up and realize I've made it to the summit.  How fitting.

This past week we had a "fun" incident in the Hobby Lobby.  Britton's obession with bathrooms may be the end of me.  It seems he MUST go in EVERY bathroom, in every place we go... at least once.  TWICE is my absolute limit.  We had come from lunch and although I NEVER go when we are out together, I had no choice.  I told him if he came out and I was not there, I was in the Ladies Restroom, and would be right out.  He went in the mens.  I hurried into the Women's, and barely got in position, when WHAM he comes running in and scares an elderly woman as he whirls by to the last stall.  OH NO!!!  I hurry, and go out and get him to wash his hands and out we go.  The woman, has gone and gotten the manager.  They accost me as we exit, and the manager is very hateful.  He says that "If I can't control Britton, he should not be in his store."  Fabulous.  It makes me really sad, and then...really mad, so...I say, "well you have no "Handicap" restroom, where I can take him by myself?  I am sorry this woman was frightened.  BUT... he did not touch her, he did not hurt anyone, he only went in the wrong restroom."  I just kept standing there thinking,  "How many of us are faking that we aren't dying inside?"  I kept looking at the woman wondering what feelings prompted her to do this deed?  So many times I've wished I was invisible.  But do I really want to be swallowed alive and dropped down a cold, black hole and no one notice?"  Yep sometimes it's not a pretty place in my head.
 
So like hiking a really long, big incline, out we went with our tails tucked between our legs, heads down in yet more shame.  (Remember that cloak from last blog? )  Such is life with autism.  Talk about a square peg in a round hole... autism is a bizaare shaped peg that fits NO HOLES!  Where do we fit Britton?  I wish I knew.  I wish I was a better guide on this trail.  I don't know the way, and I don't know what's ahead.  I wish we weren't in complete darkness.  But we have to keep hiking cause we can't stop here, keep putting one foot in front of the other.  It's all I know to do.  I close my eyes, put my hands in Gods and I take another step, praying I'm not stepping off a cliff, believing that I'm on the right trail.  So far, only a few near death experiences. :)  It's at these moments I wonder if I should leave the outrageous faith to the Christians who haven't been beaten up by life yet.  I'm pretty sure that's not how this whole thing works though.

Autism is a condition NO ONE wants to deal with, heck no one really wants to even know it exists.  From it's extremely unpopular, controversial cause, to it's nearly impossible ability to manage, it really gets almost no sympathy, or understanding from the masses.  If you're thinking, "wow she's in a mood, throwing herself a pity party."  Maybe I am.  I'm just so worn down.  Let's be honest, I hate autism far more than you can imagine.  I hate watching autism ravish my son's brain and destroy his intestines.  I hate that the future that God planned for him is stolen.  I hate that no one on this planet gives one rats ass for all the suffering that the PHARM whores have caused so many families, and then allowed our courts to give them immunity for what they have done.  I hate that the "respectable mothers" just walk like sheep to the slaughter with their tiny bundles of joy in tow straight to the Pharm Slaughter.  All the while, they look at me with condescending eyes, not realizing they are one vaccine from crossing over to this relentless life.   Yep, trust me, I hate autism far more than you do.  Hate really isn't a strong enough word.  I'll go with loath.
Still with me?  Impressive.  Well then, I'd love to tell you about another hike, our favorite hike, the one we look forward to every trip back to Kauai.  We hike a trail called, Kalalau.  It's considered a "difficult hike" that requires proper foot wear, enough water, and that you should be in good physical condition.  Let's just say the first few times we did this hike, we were clueless as to what proper gear really was.  It's a hike around a volcano.  The first time we did it, we had no idea that you should not get caught up on the mountain after sundown.  Take the pitch black of night and compound that with the pitch black of volcanic sand, and you seriously can't see your hand in front of your face.  That's not a good idea, when staying on the trail is a difference between life and a 2000 foot plunge into a crater.
Yep, just like autism.  We walk that black trail, in the dark, wishing that someone, anyone could shed some light on our climb....  The first time we hiked it, we took our good sweet time, having no idea we would end up in pitch black at 5pm.  It's hard to navigate in the light, with the best hiking shoes.
It's an eleven mile hike with lots of climbing up for miles, only to have you lose all that elevation the next mile. The views a long the way are beyond spectacular.  Something that you almost have to see to believe.

Much like autism, you work and work and you think you're about to make a huge break thru, you get a behavior under control.  Maybe you even get a word or two...and bam, some physical illness surfaces, and your son's behaviors leave you on the floor crying again.  What to do next?  Keep on climbing?  Yep that's all there is to do.  Get back up and take the next few miles, hoping to gain back all the elevation you just lost.
This particular hike, is one of our favorites because after four miles, you end up at a beach.  So all the elevation, and then you descend into a valley that has a beach that is only accessible on foot, or by boat.  We walk down the large black lava rock, to the white sand beach.  The waves roll in and take our breath away.  It's hard to ever leave.  This year, we didn't continue the hike.  Britton sat down, right at the ocean edge, and watched the ocean for over two hours.  He had the biggest smile on his face.  Two hours, he doesn't do anything voluntarily for two hours.  This was one of those magic moments.  A moment when all our hopes for his future come soaring up and fill our hearts with hope and joy.  We allow ourselves for those few seconds to remember peace and happiness.  To remember that there is a "Hope" for our son's future too.  That the God who makes oceans and sky like these, can deal with autism with but a single bat of his eye.  ahhhh peace for a moment.

People crack me up about our trips to Kauai.  They will insinuate how rich we must be.  It's hard not to laugh, really hard.  We aren't even sort of rich.  We are desperate.  We just know, that taking him there helps him.  He loves to go.  He loves to hike.  He loves to sit and watch the waves.  Always, every time we go, we get some language.  Sadly, we look forward to those few words we get, every single year.  So, we are willing to sacrifice for it.  We sacrifice past good sense.  We go and it costs us more than can be imagined.  Picture yourself on an 8 hour flight with a young man with autism.  Now picture yourself, the caregiver of that young man.  YOU are responsible for his behaviors.  Scary isn't it?  If I've said it once, well you know the cliche', but autism is always a wild card at best.  You never know what might happen.  Worse than that, you never know how other people are going to respond to what he does.  Getting him there, has never been easy. This year however,  is the first time he had a meltdown on a plane.  It wasn't a wild, crazy, "Oh MY GOD,  this is nuts meltdown," but it involved growling, biting, and demanding for something we couldn't give him at that moment.  (bathroom during turbulence)  I think I should tell you that only one person stared nonstop.  Almost everyone, was kind, and caring.  The flight attendant tried everything she knew to help us.  God Bless you Alaska Airlines.  I will fly you every chance I get.  They were amazing to us.  It was a long flight, and I could've kissed the ground when it was over.  But that is a small price to pay to have him free of autism for a few hours.  Free to watch the waves with a big smile on his face.  Free from his damaged body for a brief moment.  I'm just willing to do whatever I can, to give that to him. 

People often ask us why we don't move there.  Goodness, if I could figure out a way to make a living, I'd leave skid marks in the drive way.   I may figure it out someday, and if I do, Aloha!

  

What do you see?

I know it's true... I'm socially impaired.  Oh no, don't go thinking I was born this way,  I wasn't.  It came from the twists and turns, and molding of life with Autism.  I use to be able to chit chat about, ohhhh the latest fashion, or someone's new hair style.  But no more.  I decided after attending a small party thrown in my brother's back yard, that I probably should not attend without a list I hand to anyone who would like to attempt small talk, they should be warned.  Like mutes I have encountered, who hand me a note about the item he is selling for $5 in a restaurant.  I'd hand out a list of possible topics of conversation.
This list would say something like this... I can engage in adult conversation, outside of using the PECS system, and/or the Proloquo on the IPAD.  However, my ability to stay on topic will be limited to the following subjects.  First and foremost, #1. Autism.  We can discuss it's many causes, treatments, controversies.  As long as Autism is the main topic, I'm good with that.  #2. Biomedical Interventions for Autism.  I realize that really falls into #1, but trust me, I can talk for hours on end on more than maybe a thousands choices for treatments.  So it warrants it's own number.  #3 Nutrition for autism, and those with various seemingly unrelated conditions, (e.g. ADD, ADHD, OCD, etc etc)  See, I'm branching out, not totally autism related?  #4.  Politics, and you guessed it, as related to Special Needs and/or Disabilities.  #5.Genetically modified foods and how they affect the physiology of most humans, specifically those who have been vaccinated and still have live measles living in their guts,  I know you guessed, those with autism.  #6.  Hormone Balancing, not specifically related to those with Autism, more for those caring for those with Autism, whose systems have burned away all their hormones from lack of sleep and proper nutrition for many year.  (But possibly for those with Autism if they are old enough to need that type of intervention.)  #7  I'm particularly proud that I can add this one, My Spiritual Journey because of.... (drum roll)  AUTISM!!  #8. Fitness - It only gets a nod because I had a whole life before Autism, although I hardly remember it.  I also hate mentioning that I know much about it, as my life with autism has certainly not been conducive to doing the things that keep ones body fit.  Something I gave up kicking and screaming, but eventually yielded and raised the white flag. Let's just say I'm NOT willing to discuss my body fat %.   #9.  Chiropractic - because I work at my husband's clinic about 20 hours a week so that I may still be capable of conversation and function apart from autism...(my eye twitched for almost a decade before I got out a little) and last but not least #10  Kauai - because my son LOVES this island beyond anything I've ever seen, and almost without fail, he talks a little when we take him there.  So although I can discuss at GREAT DEAL about Kauai, I have to say, I might have known very little of it, if Autism hadn't taken me there, again and again each year, praying for one word of communication from my son... He is imprisoned inside a body that just refuses to function well enough neurologically, to allow words to come out.  sighhhhh  And as you can see, I discuss Kauai as it relates to Autism.  I don't know if that will ever change.  I don't know if it's suppose to change.  Tragedy changes us all.  It carries us down a different channel that we never would have dared venture into if our life had not been changed so permanently.  So suddenly.
It's funny, today I sat in church and listened to a sermon about "Spiritual Eyes."  I couldn't help but think of how often I have compared having a child with autism, with waking up with a new pair of eyes.  Everything has changed!  It's not a choice that you see things you never saw before, you just do.  There is no changing what you see and how you see it.  Your "new eyes" see so many things you were blind to before.  How the disabled are "seen."  What their world is like.  How doctors view your opinion of things because so many of them assume you blame the vaccines.  Things seriously are a different color, shade, huge.  Who am I kidding, they are totally different.    Today my pastor talked of "spiritual eyes."  Eyes that see what God sees, what is real.  My new eyes are a lot like that.  they see things that God sees, or maybe has decided to show me.  There are those who like me, are given new eyes, following a tragedy, and then I have met others, who were just born with those eyes.  Truly amazing gift, or curse, depending on which eyes your currently looking through.  (I have also met others who experience tragedy and refuse the new eyes, the saddest condition of all.)  

As our pastor spoke of the story of Elisha saying, "there are more with us than are with them..."  I wondered when Elisha received his Spiritual eyes?  Was he born with them, or like me, did some tragedy happen, and he wake up seeing things he had never seen before?  Are mine "Autism eyes", or "Disability Eyes," or are they just Spiritual Eyes that need another tragedy to see yet even more?  I have journeyed through this life processing, dealing with, trying to understand so much of my experiences with autism.  Certainly not without complaint, but with unfailing perseverance that is not likely to change.  I have learned to love, to truly appreciate the gifts of a "normal" child's learning.  The kindness of strangers, who are just kind because they choose to be.  What angels they are, so important to those of us struggling each day.  The tolerance of extended family members, who just love us, although so very difficult at times. They don't understand really, but they love, and that's all we need.  
I see with these eyes, that love really MUST cover a multitude of imperfections.  I also know that unless one of those family members inherits these eyes before I leave this earth, that there will be no one left to SEE my son for who he really is.  A whole person, made in God's image, loved enough by my Savior to die just for him.  New eyes.  I never knew to pray for them before, I never truly SAW before.  I have not appreciated my new eyes much.  Not until recently.  I see so many things that I'd rather not see.  But, I can't UNSEE them.  Like Elisha, who knew what he saw, because w hat he saw, was truth.  I know what I see in this world of autism.  Others may not see it, may not wish to see it.  But it won't change the fact that my son is Vaccine damaged.  Go ahead and pretend it isn't true.  It's okay, it really is, I understand why you do it.  It's seems so much safer in the world with the old eyes.  I don't judge you for what you see, or rather what you can't see.  I use to have the same eyes.  It's hard not to feel old, worn, maybe even a tiny bit wiser.  I have finally learned to embrace my new eyes.  These eyes help me see my aging parents, and really SEE their suffering and realize that I am next.  I see other disabilities, children with cerebral palsy, who are so imprisoned inside their own bodies with not much more communication skills than my own son.  I see my niece with diabetes since she was 8 months old, saddled with a pump and a slave to the insulin that she must have in varying doses to keep her alive.  I see her mother, who also has new eyes, toiling away at a labor of love because she will give her child the best life possible at the cost of well, everything.
I don't know that anyone would volunteer for new eyes.  I recently read this quote...
"The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes."  
I decided that it may well be true, and yet "new landscapes" has a whole different meaning when looking with the new eyes.  Never did I know that my new landscape would involve showering, dressing, hair brushing, shaving, toe nail clipping and even occasionally cleaning the backside of an adult son.  Not something that my old eyes could've ever seen myself doing.  Not many of us could... but my new eyes, well they show me that I do what is necessary to make my sons life doable, livable, tolerable, and pretty much just possible.  
The real question is, what do my sons eyes see?  Does he see a world that resents his very presence?  Does he realize that so many see him as nothing more than a "leach on society".  (quoted from a member of the PTO when he was 6)  Does he know how many people just ignore his existence because they choose not to see him?  What does society look like to him?  
More importantly to me, what do I look like?  A mother who tries to stay awake all the nights that he can't sleep, but is now over 50 and it isn't possible anymore?  A small woman who can't possibly control him in public, and yet, I put on my game face and pretend.  (Sometimes he laughs at me.) Does he see the hours and hours I spend researching, preparing, planning, trying to find new hope from some doctor across the country who just might have finally unearthed that missing piece of the puzzle that will open the door to his mind?  Does he see a woman who takes constant verbal abuse from a school district who has attempted to do nothing more than groom him for a state school existence? Yes they pretend otherwise, but we both know the truth.  Please know that that's not his teachers, his aides, the ones that SEE him, the real him.  They see him FIRST, autism second. (thanks for that Michelle)
It seems I've spent my life trying to keep him from seeing what the world in general really sees when they look at him. 
The ultimate question is, what does God see?  What do you see?

A Cloak of Shame

Have you ever worn a cloak of shame?  I guess I didn't realize I did until recently.  I've always said that I've been hiding under my giant "autism rock."  But the real truth is, I've been wearing a cloak, and when anyone got too close, I'd yell in a loud voice, "UNCLEAN!"
Hard to believe after 22 years I'm just figuring this out.  Just a slow learner I suppose.  I had a pretty rough afternoon with Britton this week.  Oh not because he did anything unusual, it was just that a group of young girls wouldn't stop pointing and whispering, etc.  We had gone to the movies and he was super excited.  Jumping and flapping, and running back and forth.  Sometimes when he's super happy, and there is hardly anyone around, I just let him BE WHO HE IS.  Perhaps I shouldn't, but we all need moments of freedom.  He has so few.  Well these teenage girls were just excited to have someone else to gossip about.  Someone else to be the target of their pointless teenage drama.  BUT.. they followed us into the theater, and sat on the same row as us.  (The theater had TWO people in it besides us!)  I got up and asked Britton to move up a few rows not to bother them, and so they promptly got up and followed us.  NOT okay with this momma bear.  Britton is autistic, he is NOT STUPID.  He realized what they were up to, and so he tried to sit lower in the chair.  He eventually took off his sweat shirt and covered his head.  That's right, HE COVERED HIS HEAD!  This just gave these young ladies more fuel, and they laughed and pointed.  I was done.  Yep, here goes...
I slid down the aisle of chairs to them, and said,

"The truth is, YOU ALL should put your jackets over your heads!  The Shame you should feel for what you have done today is so sad, and so disappointing!  The hard part is, to believe that your parents haven't taught you better!  To believe that somehow abusing someone who cannot defend himself makes you laugh, and makes you happy.  Something is seriously wrong inside all your hearts!  Tonight, Britton and I will pray for you.  We both hope that Jesus has a long talk with each of you.  He could've been your brother, your best friends brother!  Then would you still make fun?"
Two of them jokingly put their sweatshirts over their heads and continued to giggle.  I hope the popcorn gave them all horrible belly aches.  :(

Yeah, I know... I'm sure it only made them laugh harder as we left the theater.  Britton wouldn't take his sweat shirt off his head all the way home.  ALL THE WAY HOME!  He went to his room and cried for about an hour.  I'm going to say for the millionth time, If only he was REALLY retarded we'd be so much better off!!!
 I opened my bible for some comfort only to read the story of the ten lepers.  "UNCLEAN" they had to yell, as they were always "outside the city."  They weren't allowed in.  They were required to wear a shawl over their heads and even wrap it around the lower half of their faces.  Cloaks of shame were required.  As I thought about their forced isolation, I thought about my life. It's exactly what I have done for so many years.  When you try to be part of our lives, I pick up my cloak and push you away.  "UNCLEAN" I scream, to keep you back, to keep you away, to keep you at a "safe distance."  But the real truth is... I'm protecting myself from your judgment, from your painful words.  If I keep you far enough away, you will never be able to really judge me.  When strangers judge, it's no big deal.  I chalk it up to ignorance and move on.  But when someone I care about, or wish was my friend judges, that requires the cloak.  I read in Leviticus 13:45 "The person with such an infectious disease must wear torn clothes, let his hair be unkempt, cover the lower part of his face and cry out, "Unclean, unclean!" I suppose I just scream, "Autism, stay back!"  As the years have past, I have become far more comfortable with everyone else who is also "Unclean" or at least have children with Autism.  Our tragic plight gives us far more in common than any of our other differences.  Like lepers in a colony it's the only place we feel truly safe.  I have had the privilege to be friends with many parents who deal with autism everyday, who never once felt unclean because of it.  God bless you my friends, you have taught me much!

When we judge each others disabilities, (even levels of disabilities) or perhaps each others sins, aren't we just like lepers counting spots?  I love that Jesus told them that they would be "made clean."  I know it's sad, and it's just how I feel, but it's also how many of us feel.  We feel unclean, unacceptable, unreachable, untouchable, unfixable.  As I talked to friends about the situation in the theater, about what the "proper response" should've been.  Each and everyone of them said to me, "There have been times in my life that I felt so unclean.  Times I would've given anything to be able to put my sweatshirt over my head, and yell, so everyone would go away and stop judging!"  Wow, so it's not just autism, it's life.  It's whatever your sin, disability, fear, worry is.  It's the thing that makes you want to put a sweat shirt over your head!
The good news is, none of us have to count our spots.  There's this amazing children's book called, "You Are Special" by Max Lucado.  It's one of Britton's favorites.
It's the story of these small wooden people who were made by Eli, the woodcarver.  All of the Wemmicks give each other stars for being beautiful, or smart, or talented. When you're covered with stars you parade around so everyone can admire you.  But, they also gave each other grey dots for being well, ugly, dumb, crippled, etc.  Then you cower in shame, and hide.  The story is of one small Wemmick, Punchinello, who is covered in grey spots.  He eventually meets a girl who has neither spots nor dots.  None of them stick to her.  She sends Punchinello to the Wood Carver, (their creator) for answers.  The woodcarver says, "Who are they to give stars or dots?  They are Wemmicks just like you.  What they think doesn't matter Punchinello.  All that matters is what I think.  And I think you are pretty special."

So back to the story of the ten lepers.  Remember how there was one leper who was running to the priest, and realized he was healed? He immediately turned around and ran back.  He dropped to Jesus feet and thanked him over and over again.  Jesus says, "Were not 10 cleansed?  Didn't any return to give glory to God except this foreigner?"  Where were the other nine?
The thing that keeps going over and over in my mind is... I wonder....if this leper, the only thankful one,  was HE the leper with the most spots?
After meeting Jesus, no dots, no stars should ever stick again... I don't think I'll put anymore sweatshirts over my head.  :)

Autism Awareness Month?

So here it comes ..... Autism Awareness Month.  One month encouraging all Americans to pause a moment and think about Autism. What is Autism like, or maybe even what would autism be like in their own families?  I don't know that people can really go there... But it's awareness month, and it might be something to consider.  What if YOU, or your child woke up tomorrow, and one of you were struck with autism?  What if? 

If you look at Britton at 5 months old.  Bright eyed, normal, happy child.  THEN,  If you look at the next photo at 11 months old, you see a confused, in pain, very frightened child.  A child
who has been injected with mercury.  A child whose immune system could not process the toxins.  I show you these pictures, so that you too can realize... he was NOT born with autism.  By the time you see the bottom picture he had quickly regressed to less than 10 words.  My beautiful, perfect son, is almost lost here.  I seriously hate that picture.  

I remember about 20 years ago, sitting in a medical library, trying to find just one case similar to what had happened to our son.  (There was no internet back then)  I would sit Britton in my lap, and while he did all this strange hand flapping, whinning and begging me to squeeze his elbows... I would scour every published medical study that even vaguely resembled our situation.  A perfectly normal child, who has a low grade fever for several months and then after his second MMR,  BAM a grand mal seizure and never the same again.  He stopped walking for a few months, and really rather quickly lost all of the language he had developed.  500 words, just gone!  What happened to my baby?  No one knew.  It would be almost four years before I found a doctor who had ever seen autism, and actually knew the word to diagnose him.  I was told it was 1 in 100,000 in 1994.

Twenty years ago, there was no awareness of autism at all.
As much as I hate being one of the first families affected, I am beyond grateful for all we've learned.
Doctors use to make fun of families who even talked about the possibility of recovery.  Now it happens all the time.  Not easy, and not with one magic pill.... but with perseverence and unrelenting dedication of parents who do all the things that just might be the key to breaking into their child's locked and poisoned mind.  Through combinations of detoxing, supplements, diet change, and behavioral therapies, there is a light at the end of this PIT that most of us were thrown into.  A pit made of greed, lies, and disregard for your child and mine.  The Big PHARM machine owns our Congress and money and power is their goal.  Call me bitter, that's certainly how I see it.

Most the children with autism we see now, are not nearly as severe as my son,  The reason?  We really KNOW what caused autism in the first place.  (Yes I'm pointing all my fingers at vaccines.)  Knowing the "enemy" gives us the right weapons to fight.  If your child is not autistic, you are perhaps rolling your eyes over my comment of what causes autism, but with my son, he was normal and then he wasn't.  One day normal, a vaccine, the next day not normal.  It's not rocket science.  Over the months of that fated moment when I felt my pediatrician twisted my arm and demanded that I "catch Britton up"on his vaccines (inspite of his low grade fever since the last vaccine,) I'd give anything if I'd even suspected what I'm telling you now.  AWARENESS!  I'm not trying to scare you, I'm trying to help you make an educated decision.  A choice, and awareness I didn't have.
We aren't the only family that it happened to.  There are thousands of us.  One in 50 children to be exact.  Now it seems, that everyone knows someone who has a child with autism.  Don't you?

If you've met one child with autism, you've met ONE CHILD with autism.  They are not that much alike.  They all certainly have varying degrees of disability, most self stim (that's things like hand flapping, humming noises, walking on tip toes, etc) Truly the list is endless.  I can only speak for my son and say he "looks normal." Unless you watch him more than a few seconds.  A second glance, and you're quick to realize something just isn't quite right.  "Looking almost normal"  can be a benefit and a huge detriment.  When he was small I sometimes was grateful, but there have certainly been moments that people didn't understand (because remember no autism awareness?) and they would tell me how I just needed to apply a little better "discipline."  I lost it once, and screamed, "I'd beat him to death if it would make any difference."  It worked, the person RAN from me.  (I shouldn't laugh, but it's funny NOW)  It was the first time he ever bit me.  We were in Sams Club.  A place I later learned not to take him.  He would duck at the high ceilings.  I have NO IDEAwhy.  Which tells us that there are visual disturbances as well as all the other strange sensations that his senses apparently torture him with.  Sams drove him crazy.  I just stopped taking him there for years and years.   I always say if there's anything common with autism, it is certainly that they all suffer from sensory disorders.  They don't really hear the same, feel the same, see the same...They truly are dealing with things we can only begin to imagine the difficulties of enduring.  I read once of a girl who could hear so well that she heard toilets flush for miles.  Can you imagine that?  Me neither...

Is is any wonder that so many parents have a trust issue with the CDC.  It took them years and years to remove thimerasol (mercury) from vaccines.  And it's a fact that it is POISON, even they don't deny that.  It destroys brain cells, and they admit it!  (Side note, it is NOT gone out of many vaccines.  It is in the largest quantities in the flu shot.)    Other countries removed it years ago, and the CDC can say they that they "voluntarily" removed it, but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with unrelenting pressure from so many parents, screaming and threatening in front of Congress.  But just to add insult to injury Big Pharm decided to leave all the vaccines out there that still contained thimerasol til they were all used up.  Knowing it would destroy more children, KNOWING it was poison.
It's despicable.
My son was not so lucky.  No one except the pharmaceutical company that makes the vaccine knew that mercury was in them back in 1990.  Maybe you're one of those parents who insist that there's a miniscule amount of mercury in each vaccine.  Let me just give you a CDC fact.  If your child receives all their vaccines on schedule til only just the age of 6 months old, he would get a mercury dose up to 87 times higher than the maximum daily consumption of fish that is allowed.
There's no doubt that lots of kids are able to handle this kind of assault to their immune systems and their cerebral anatomy.  (They may end up ADD, ADHD, etc.  But no one is counting them.)
But... 1 in 50 ARE NOT!  My son is one in 50.  How I pray for a test of some kind that will separate out the children who are not capable of handling such a giant toxic load.  It's VERY possible to do.  I bet every parent in America would be willing to pay to have their child tested. Better yet, I bet every insurance would be willing to pay as well.  It's so much cheaper than life long medical bills, for seizures, gastrointestinal diseases and behavior therapy, to name a few.  THAT is not rocket science.  Oh how I wish that some of the big Autism Organizations would research that!  Stop spending all your donated dollars on BLUE LIGHTS and tee shirts with blue lights, and do something that really HELPS all us warriors on the front lines?!  But alas, they too seem to have been bought by the Big Pharm and now spend all their time on genetic research.  (Attempting to prove it's the parent's faults)  The thing is, with it now being 1 in 50, you tell me how it can be genetic.  I guess it is, if you're human, you can't handle neuro toxins injected into your blood stream at two months old.  I guess we humans are just flawed that way.  pshhh
                                      This is Britton now.  Still nonverbal, but at least he has
       made a truce with the fact that he will never be what he could've been...what he was meant to be
                                              By the way, he definitely knows the difference.
                                                He is the bravest person I have ever known.
                       This picture was taken on his favorite hiking trail.  He had just SAID, "Hurry Up!"
                        Randy and I, both flipped out, and he KNEW that he had spoken.
He can't/doesn't talk, but once in a blue moon, all the swelling goes down, or the wires connect,
                         or God intervenes, we don't know.  But it's always a great moment.

One of the things about autism that I'd love for people to be AWARE of... autism parents are not against vaccines.  We are against injecting poisons, neurotoxins, fetal DNA, and various other forms of poisons into our babies.  I know that vaccines have saved lives.  But I also know that they have killed thousands, and maimed millions.  Perhaps that's just the "surplus population" to some, but to me, it's my only son.  Please don't placate me with your, "If I was you, I'd feel the same."  Well you aren't me, but keep vaccinating your child and you or someone you love might be.  Think I'm just trying to scare you?  Well, I am.  Scare you away from being ONE in FIFTY!!
I'd like you to be aware that we have lost almost an entire generation of young men.  Gifted, intelligent, strong, handsome, young men.  Men that God had other plans for.  We have injected future doctors, lawyers, writers, musicians, and preachers.  We have done our nation a horrible disservice by destroying much of our future, and for what?  Greed would be the answer.  With our eyes NOW wide open, with the truth accessible with a few clicks of a computer.  The truth is out there.  If you choose not to put in the effort to even research something so serious, or you choose to bury your head  in the sand because it's easier... you have a 1 in 50 chance...You should be aware of it.  

And the Thunder Rolls...

There are times in life when everything a person thinks he/she knows is challenged.  Undercurrents suck them under and threaten to pull them into a bottomless sea of despair.  It can sweep away every trace of reason in a matter of seconds.  That's WHY the wise man built his house upon a rock.
But what happens if you pick the wrong rock with the best of intentions, only to discover that the foundation is about to crumble?
I had a nice family.  2.5 kids, a 3 bedroom house, mini van, decent job.   I thought I had built my house upon a rock.  With all those items piled high up on top of my rock, I never thought my foundation could crumble.  But over the years with Autism, I've found that my "foundation" wasn't always built upon the rock that never fails.  Often it was built on endless other "rocks," trusting other people, trying to believe that no one blamed me for my son's disability, trying not to blame myself, or worse God...etc.  The rocks are so endless.  Here we are again, with another tsunami about to blow, and I'm wondering if my rock will hold.

This year we're "aging out" of the schools system.  That means your child/adult is 22 years old and well everyone is wiping their hands of the situation.  They're sighing with relief and showing you the door.  They are so glad they are done with YOU!  The family who brought the definition of Autism to their first ARD meeting, while stunned teachers, and administration stared aghast, wondering what new horror this disability would bring!  YOU, who sued the district because your son HAD TO HAVE Digestive enzymes just to eat!  YOU, who forced a middle school to actually BUILD a classroom, because putting special needs kids in a modified kitchen just wasn't good enough for your son.  YOU,  who taught many teachers and aids, that working in Special Ed was no longer a sit down, "take care of children who can't move from their wheelchairs kind of job!  YOU!  Most school programs and certainly the district treat you as if YOU created this thing called Autism.  YOU brought this to this school, and YOU (and your son) should pay for it.  Trust me, we pay for it, and pay for it and pay for it... But more than that, our only son pays for it!  The tsunami winds have blown for years on our rock!  I often worry that it will be too much to bear.  "I was sure by now, you would have reached down, wiped my tears away, swept in and saved the day.  But once again, I say, Amen, and it's still raining."

I want to attempt to pause my talking about the storm, with some incredible positives about some of the heroes who have withstood many storms by our sides.  There are so many miracles, so much good God has brought into our lives, like when He moves on others to understand, to love, to truly care with their whole hearts.  It is amazing how far Britton has/will come.  I'd like to give credit, where credit is due.  Britton has had some FANTASTIC teachers pass through his life.  Teachers who have more than cared, they have loved him, truly and completely.  They have fought major battles, planned, hoped, even plotted with our family to try to get around so much political bureaucracy.  IMPOSSIBLE to do.  God BLESS the wonderful, precious, AMAZING teachers who have loved my son.  There are no words to describe my gratitude for your selfless love.  May the God of all Mercies reward you for being His hands!  You help me cling tighter to the rock.

To one extremely special woman who has been part of our sons life for the past SEVEN YEARS!  We love you!  YOU are an angel sent from God.  You love our son as your own.  You stand by him, love him no matter what.  God must smile when He watches you.  I know I do.  I tell God should I have any reward in heaven, He is to give it to you.  You are the best of what God created us to be.  That is a HUGE part of what strengthens my hold on the rock!  

Now, here comes my tsunami about "Aging Out.."

We have fought so hard from the first seizure to this moment.  Swimming against the waves and impossible winds!  Randy and I spent the first five years trying to keep Britton alive.  He spent every October til December in the hospital til he was 9!  That is a long, long time to spend at Texas Childrens.  My girls were so young and always praying Britton would get to come home for Christmas.  (Not to mention... their mom too)   He always did get to come home.  Only spent one Christmas Eve there.  I am still so grateful for a God who always hears the prayers of little girls!  Yet another reason to hold tight to the rock!  "And as the thunder rolls, I hear you whisper through the rain... I'm with you."

Then his immune system failed, and we hid him from the world as best we could, so we didn't end up in the hospital even more months.  Repeated bouts of chicken pox, measles, flu, viruses,  we lost count how many times he had them.  We stayed in the house, away from family, friends, school... those were some dark years.  The storm pelted us those years, always threatening to suck us under!   The doctors didn't really know what to do, so they inserted a central line, and we did IV drugs around the clock.  Then we "aged out" of that storm and the rock stood firm.  (Truly God intervened again, and his body began to make functioning antibodies, a real miracle.  There is no other explanation.  "And as Your mercy falls I raise my hands and praise the God who gives And takes away."

One sentence hardly gives justice to each of those phases.  The difficult years, the battle scars the whole family wears.  We are battle weary. So very tired of fighting the storm!   But it doesn't matter because it isn't going to get any easier.  "Aging out" for us just means, (yet one more time) we must figure it out first, because we are the oldest of the "autistic" children.  No one has passed this way before us.  Holding onto our raincoats, batting down the hatches, waiting for the next wave the size of a small mountain.  Praying one more time for the "house on the rock" to be standing after the wave...

This past week I sat in Britton's last ARD.  One more time I listened to the nonsense, thinking how bitter I was.  Every question was really just rhetorical to finish the paper work.  They always PRETEND there is some kind of transition plan.  I'd laugh but it makes me so sad and desperate.  For FIVE YEARS they have been writing that Britton will work at our clinic folding towels. (Feel free to laugh)  I'm sorry it's just so ridiculous.  Even they are at a loss.  This year they asked me, "Is that accurate, is that okay?"  I just laughed and said, "it's not true, it hasn't been true for the five years you've been writing it."  They KNOW it's not true.  They KNOW he can't possibly spend hour upon hour folding towels.  But as they say every year, "We have to write something."  Again, ridiculous!
Is it that the TRUTH is too hard to bear?  It is for me!  But they have to write "something" to make themselves feel better, and soothe the states feelings.  Glad to help them "feel better" I guess.
My eye has been twitching for over a week.  It started in the meeting and now just won't stop.  I was thinking how every single parent who has sat through an ARD meeting should receive counseling for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.  It's like being caught in a flood and not one person standing there with a life preserver in their hands, is willing to throw it to you.

The best part of the ARD was that the principal was absent.  Ahhhh relief... I felt a tiny bit more at ease.  (Most likely she was afraid to come, because she believed, I was at liberty to speak my mind without her taking retribution on my son.)  I'm not saying she would, or she has, (well not out loud) I'm just saying it's every parents fear.  Let's be honest, I'm not at liberty, not now, and not ever!  
 It breaks my heart that my son, will not be able to tell his side of what life was like during school,  I'll have to wait for heaven to hear it.  It's not that the principal/administration hates my family specifically. (they do, but that's beside the point.)  If you ever make waves, e.g. sue the district for what your child needs.  You are labeled as trouble and everyone walks carefully around you!  YOU!  How dare YOU!  Try to save your son?  How dare YOU, make sure he can digest what he eats!  How dare YOU, fight like a mother bear to give him one tiny shred of decency!  It might cause others to DEMAND that decency for their own child!  HOW DARE YOU!  The tsunami continues to blow and my family, we cling to the rock.  It is the only real shelter. 
" I remember when, I stumbled in the wind. You heard my cry to you, and you raised me up again.  My strength is almost gone, how can I carry on, If I can't find You?"

I have found no mercy, no kindness, no gentleness when it comes to Administration and Special Needs.  They won't even consider what might really be helpful in the future.  That's your problem alone.  It's too scary to let "those kids" out in the public.  Too risky to do what will have to be done by their parents for the rest of their lives!  "Too bad we could have helped, but it was too much risk..." Nope, no taking risks, after all it's not their child the waves are sucking under, and they just refuse to care that much! Perhaps our district, "Aged Out" when autism showed up.  I did request that they just reorder the comments on his final paperwork.  Talk about the good stuff FIRST!  How about on the FIRST PAGE?  It was so obvious to me, but to them it was like a revelation.  "Oh we could do that. "  We could talk about his accomplishments before we assassinate  his character completely!  What a novel idea.  I felt I could Breathe for a minute.  My rock again, stabilizing, holding me steady.

It's still stunning how little even those who supposedly work with autism, understand it.  It's not easy, it's an extremely bizarre, strange condition.  Because only half of them can talk, we rarely understand their prison.  When Britton gets highly agitated and extremely upset, I always begin the process...What is happening?  Is he sad, is he hurting, is he afraid?  We rarely ever know.  But one thing for sure, as Jesus would have me do, I put myself in his place and treat HIM the way I would want to be treated.  An old fashioned belief our entire society "aged out" of about fifty year ago.  I often picture myself as autistic.  I can't imagine many days when I wouldn't at least try to "chew through the restraints."  Because autism is a sort of prison, and it's a life sentence.  It takes autistic people a lifetime to teach the "normals" what the rules of this prison are.  I will spend my entire life learning, because you see, it's a life sentence for my whole family.  I have a friend whose son is also autistic, and she always says, "Not DEAD, can't quit!"  That pretty much sums it up.  We aren't allowed to die.  On top of the terror of him trying to live without us, how do we "dump" him and his disability on someone else?  HOW?  It's far too much to ask, and yet... the day will come.  WE will "age out" of life, and someone else will be asked to help Britton finish his course.  To help him hold to "the rock."  The storms will continue to rage even after we are long gone.  

"But as the thunder rolls, I barely hear You whisper through the rain, "I'm with you." And as Your mercy falls, I raise my hands and praise the God who gives, and takes away."

I'm praying that much will have changed by the time I breathe my last breath.    That there will be a wonderful place for the kids damaged by so much injustice, and that we will leave behind a lot more understanding.  I am willing to devote my life to build such a place.  What I wouldn't give to open the eyes of "the normals" who would rather not believe the truth because it's just so much easier not to.  I'd like to finish this rant, I mean blog, with a thought you probably never would consider.  I often wish I was "a normal."  I wish I had the luxury of not believing that vaccines damaged my son.  I wish this year he was graduating college...I wish I could live in my perfect little world where my biggest concern was how to pay for college and save for retirement.  Lots of days I grieve the loss of what could've been.  The loss of who God intended Britton to be.  But then I look at my son, and know he paid much to high a price for me to sit here and lick my own wounds.  So until the truth is told, I'll be over here yelling at the top of my lungs over tsunami waves;  "LOOK AT AUTISM!  It's not going away because we "Aged out!!!   It's EVERYWHERE!!"  At the very least 1 in 88!  And the thunder rolls...

Extravagant Gifts

Extravagant Gifts...
The best parts of this Christmas Season, have been so unexpected.  Britton has been working on some mirrors he's making.  It takes a VERY long time for him to complete one.  We cut plywood into just the right size.  Sawing and preparing and making sure it will fit.  Then he carefully applies the liquid nails to the back of each mirror placing it onto the center of each board.  After that, we gently place beautiful tiles, and colored glass all around the outside edges.  He sits so focused and carefully decides which piece goes where.  His eyes squint and he tilts his head, thinking, deciding, creating.  He's quite the artist, this handsome autistic man God has given me.  Two months later, many hours, and many decisions later, you might have one mirror.  He is so careful, he is creating.  Since I've spent so much time beside him, encouraging and "helping" I have so many times been drawn to think of God creating us.  Carefully picking up each piece, matching what only He knows goes together.  Making a very individual masterpiece.  It always makes me smile.
In the beginning I tried to "help" way more than he would allow.  I would "suggest" a piece here or there.  He would sit it back down, and continue with His plan.  Often he would pat the top of my hand, assuring me he had a vision.  It kept me smiling for days.  It made me realize how often I had done that in prayer.  "This would help so much God, please work this into your plan for us."  I know He must carefully listen, all the while moving forward with what He knows was the best fit in the first place...sitting my suggestion aside as gently as possible.
If you received, or receive in the future a "not so perfect" mirror or picture frame from Britton, just know that he worked countless hours, planning, moving, changing, and making each piece exactly what he envisions to be a masterpiece.  When he handed the very first one off, I saw him tear up.  It took all I had to smile, and encourage him to give it away.  All I could think of was the word,
EXTRAVAGANT.  What an extravagant gift, to give of oneself.  Totally something that is so dear.  Of course that brings me to the most extravagant gift of all, Jesus.  How valuable.  How do you put a value on "the pearl of great price?"  The similarities surprised me.  The person who receives or buys a mirror from Britton, has no clue as to the intrinsic value, the care, the meticulous plan it took to bring....a simple mirror to completion.  Do we, really understand the meticulous, care, planning, and love that went into the birth of the savior of the world? Maybe a ridiculous analogy, but God has to teach me from simple things.

As I struggle with Britton's future and what God might have planned for this boy man?  The one thing that gives me any peace, is knowing that God has the right piece for my life, for his life, for all our lives.  I definitely feel like a bunch of pieces of broken glass and tile more days than not.  However some of Britton's creations, that didn't seem to "match" from the beginning became sparkling, pictures of a creator that surprised everyone who had shook their heads from the beginning.

Apart from Autism, I love Christmas.  After all, it's the "most wonderful time of the year."
I was worried that this month's blog would be so depressing having battled back seizures, and so much regression that hope has felt in short supply.
I know, I KNOW, I really do know I have so much to be grateful for...  AND, I am grateful for those things.  Those things, (my precious grand babies, my daughters, my amazing husband, and last but not least, the love and care of the King of the World.) I am truly grateful for those things, those people in my life.  Those are the things that truly keep me from going over the edge.  Where I find myself wavering at the precipice all to often.  Staring down at the impossibility of what the future, and the lack of help could mean for Britton and I.  I admit to crying A LOT in the past few months.  AND I even thrown myself several pity parties.  (No one else attends, but trust me, no one else could bear attending.)
As I attempt not to jump off the edge of other peoples judgements, and criticisms, I am overwhelmed and I just have to shut myself off from the rest of the world for periods of time.  This is what we all do during times of tragedy.  The problem is, if you live in a house with someone who is severely autistic, you're living a tragedy that will continue long after your gone.  What a heritage to leave your other children.
Unlike so many adults with autism that YOU never see, my son wants to go EVERYWHERE!  He wants to go out to eat, he wants to go to church, and grocery shopping.  Now you're thinking, lucky you.  Well maybe... unless, hey, you want to go with me?  Now you get to "enjoy" all the constant grabbing and hugging and demanding that I kiss his hands over and over and over and over.  There aren't enough lines to say how many times he demands it.  If he catches me by surprise he usually busts my lips.  That happens about once a week.  It looks very much like I am attempting to ward off an attack.  He jumps, and he laughs, and he hums and he flaps his arms.  (FYI he weighs 140lbs) People stare,  make comments and snide remarks.  You'd think after twenty plus years I'd be immune.  Or at least I'd have grown thicker skin.  The bad part is, if I hear  them I don't run off crying like I did for so many years.  Now, I turn around and explain autism to them.  They really appreciate it.
Recently I read this, let's call it an admonition...
"Much of what you must forgive others for, and especially yourself, is the ignorance that damages.  People don't only hurt willfully.  More often because they simply don't know anything else; they don't know how to be anything else, anything better."

You can only vaguely, sort of, maybe a tiny bit understand how difficult Holidays are in the lives of people with autism.  They need desperately for everything to stay the SAME.  They need their daily routine to always get up at a certain time...to eat at a certain time, go the same places, do the same things.  The SAME.....SAME SAME SAME!  Autism, the Holidays are not for you!  The rest of us, "the normals" prefer the change.  The chance to sleep in, read a book, watch some Holiday football, or Christmas movies.  The change that helps us get through the rest of the year.  But alas, it is never to be. He just cannot do it.  He ENDURES it.  He HATES it!  And, because he hates it all, so do we.  

Today I took Britton to six restaurants.  Yes, I said SIX.  He refused to use his Ipad to tell me where he WANTED to go.  (Not one of the restaurants can be guaranteed to be GFCF, but I decided to throw caution to the wind.)   Since he is nonverbal let me explain how this goes down.  I pull in, I say, "Do you want to eat here?"  I turn off the car.  If the answer is yes, he gets out.  If the answer is No, he reaches over and restarts the car.  This can feel endless.  Goodness, today it was endless!  I hate it extra during the holidays because EVERYONE is eating out.  No offense to the rest of "the normals" but I'd rather eat with as few of you as possible.  The reason?  I can't trust you to be kind, or understanding.  I can't trust you NOT TO STARE!   I always wonder if his brain injury showed on the outside, (e.g. a giant concave skull, or huge bulging brain out one ear?)  Would i get the same responses?  In some ways I am jealous of those disabilities that LOOK DISABLED.  At least people get it immediately.  They drop their gaze, and attempt to mind their own business.  Not so much with autism.
My son also, tries to constantly kiss my poor husband as well.  I admit that I "lost it" in the mall during a short shopping stent over the holiday.  A man looked at my son trying to kiss my husband, and muttered, "disgusting" as he went by.  I couldn't take it.  I was not exhibiting the gifts of the spirit that day, (I've since repented) and so I chased him down and explained, "WHY Autism isn't Disgusting101."    He was very apologetic, of course, but really?  How necessary was that?  I was only a little ashamed of myself.  My poor husband picked up speed and kept walking, he pretended not to know me.  Somedays he has to endure autism, and the collateral damage of autism as well.
This is the season of LOVE.  Of God's most extravagant gift He ever gave mankind.  Kindness, and gratefulness, and just all out good manners should be at their peak by the last week of December.  Should be.  But we all know that is far from the truth.  As the Season progressed, and I watched one mirror after the next be completed, I realized that God's extravagant gift should be reflected in each of us.
Now every time I look in the mirror, I will wonder, what do you see?