{I am the Child}

I am the child who cannot talk.
You often pity me, I see it in your eyes.
You wonder how much I am aware of -- I see that as well.
I am aware of much, whether you are happy or sad or fearful,
patient or impatient, full of love and desire,
or if you are just doing your duty by me.
I marvel at your frustration, knowing mine to be far greater,
for I cannot express myself or my needs as you do.

You cannot conceive my isolation, so complete it is at times.
I do not gift you with clever conversation, cute remarks to be laughed over and repeated.
I do not give you answers to your everyday questions,
responses over my well-being, sharing my needs,
or comments about the world about me.

I do not give you rewards as defined by the world's standards -- great strides in
development that you can credit yourself;
I do not give you understanding as you know it.
What I give you is so much more valuable -- I give you instead opportunities.
Opportunities to discover the depth of your character, not mine;
the depth of your love, your commitment, your patience, your abilities;
the opportunity to explore your spirit more deeply than you imagined possible.
I drive you further than you would ever go on your own, working harder,
seeking answers to your many questions with no answers.
I am the child who cannot talk.

I am the child who cannot walk.
The world seems to pass me by.
You see the longing in my eyes to get out of this chair, to run and play like other children.
There is much you take for granted.
I want the toys on the shelf, I need to go to the bathroom, oh I've dropped my fork again.
I am dependent on you in these ways.
My gift to you is to make you more aware of your great fortune,
your healthy back and legs, your ability to do for yourself.
Sometimes people appear not to notice me; I always notice them.
I feel not so much envy as desire, desire to stand upright,
to put one foot in front of the other, to be independent.
I give you awareness.
I am the child who cannot walk.

I am the child who is mentally impaired.
I don't learn easily, if you judge me by the world's measuring stick,
what I do know is infinite joy in simple things.
I am not burdened as you are with the strife's and conflicts of a more complicated life.
My gift to you is to grant you the freedom to enjoy things as a child,
to teach you how much your arms around me mean, to give you love.
I give you the gift of simplicity.
I am the child who is mentally impaired.

I am the disabled child.
I am your teacher. If you allow me,
I will teach you what is really important in life.
I will give you and teach you unconditional love.
I gift you with my innocent trust, my dependency upon you.
I teach you about how precious this life is and about not taking things for granted.
I teach you about forgetting your own needs and desires and dreams.
I teach you giving.
Most of all I teach you hope and faith.
I am the disabled child.

Author Unknown

{Put on your Oxygen Mask!!}

Let’s set the scene…
It’s a quarter to 4 in the afternoon and your day started at 5:30 am, you are exhausted. You have been dealing with a very cranky 3 year old with a cold. You have just ended a busy work week and it is finally your weekend. All you want to do is NOTHING. But, you don’t because you are the grown up, the mommy, the wife. The washer and dryer is running, dinner is on the stove, the dishes are being put away , your folding the laundry in the laundry basket, cartoons are on the T.V that you hope are going to keep your 3 year old occupied but, they aren’t because he wants to be in the middle of it all, hacking and coughing because he has a cold, freaking out when his nose runs to the point that he is screaming if you don’t immediately, I MEAN IMMEDIATELY have a tissue in hand to wipe. You can’t seem to move fast enough for it all.
All of a sudden, all the sounds seem to merge into one very loud sound all at once, you can hear it all getting louder and louder, machines running, pots of food are boiling, silverware is clinking, and your child is screaming. The room starts to spin…
STOP!!! THE CABIN IS LOOSING PRESSURE!
Put your oxygen mask on mom!!
“Should the cabin experience sudden pressure loss, stay calm and listen for instructions from the cabin crew. Oxygen masks will drop down from above your seat. Place the mask over your mouth and nose, like this. Pull the strap to tighten it. If you are traveling with children, make sure that your own mask is on first before helping your children.”
I never really understood the pre-flight directions from the airline attendant before having a child. I mean, wouldn’t you instinctively want to put it on your child first….Well that’s what you would want to do but, the fact of the matter is, if you are in that situation you may pass out before completing the task then,your both goners.

In my daily life I think of those instructions often. Taking care of the home, the kids, working, all becomes a little overwhelming, the cabin pressure drops and you find yourself in a cabin emergency. God then drops down the oxygen mask and tells you “Put your oxygen mask on mom and listen to me!!”
That’s when you step back and walk away from it all. Placing your child in a safe place,handing them a tissue, turning down the dinner on the stove so it doesn’t over boil, putting the towels in the laundry basket, and setting them aside for later, turning down the cartoons. Then retreating into your bedroom, bathroom, and garage, what ever place in your home you can escape to go breathe deeply the oxygen provided through your mask. You breathe in and out, in and out. Saying prayers and listening to instructions provided. You say “Oh God! Give me the strength to get through this cabin emergency"and he does.

You find yourself calm,collected, you can breathe, and you can then go back to your noisy {now it doesn’t seem so noisy}, busy activities of the afternoon. You get it all done without casualties.
When life gets noisy, busy, and overwhelming.

Step back and put on your oxygen mask.

{I’ll take the 70’s please…}

If you walk into my home you will walk into a time warp. A sea of pea green, gold tones, burnt orange, glass table grapes, wooden fruit, swag lamps, and gaudy 1970’s oil paintings.
Oddly as it may sound I find peace and tranquility in it all. A sense of being home.
I can remember as a small child going to my Grandma Marlene’s house and seeing the gold veined mirror tiles on the wall.
It was home.
A place full of love, love, and more love. I remember playing hide and seek behind the vinyl tufted bar, and skinny dipping in the pool. I remember how she would always where the most uncomfortable pointy toe heals with short shorts, get her hair done once a week, and pick up after the dogs in her panty hose. She always had a variety of ice cream in the freezer for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
This woman was beautiful; and unique in her own way. I love and miss her so very much. I never went without feeling a sense of belonging, and being so completely loved.
I was her little angel.
As I have become more aware lately. I find myself thinking about her and how my relationship with God is similar.
My relationship with him is unique, not the same as the person next to me. It’s personal. I can be myself, and be so completely loved, and reassured that I have a place in this world, he is my 1970’s.
I have a problem with main stream Christianity, cookie cutter, put on the Sunday best, a smile, and pray in a format as if reading from a script.
Just be yourself! Scars and all.
Do we talk to the people we love like “Oh dearest friend I come before you today .......” NO! We say, “Hey I have something to talk about.” Just be real. He already knows what’s on our mind before it comes out of our mouths.
So why be fake?
I am thankful for my relationship with him. I can go crying to him and say “Hey I had a bad day today I need to talk about it.” Or, “That was so cool that you did____.”
He knows our heart of hearts, He isn’t an idiot, and he doesn’t need us to pray in format.
He wants us to feel like we are home, to feel like we belong, he wants us to embrace life, where panty hose while doing yard work, eat ice cream for breakfast, and be unique.
BE REAL EMBRACE YOUR 1970’S

{Find the humor...It won’t kill you}

This one is dedicated to all my friends in the SBH group.

Today I have been writing back and forth with other parents in an online group we belong to. We all share a common thread. Our children are all very special, they all have brain abnormalities.
One of the common things we all share with this abnormality is autistic behaviors. Over time I have mentioned the difficulty of the behaviors but, I have not mentioned the humor that can come along with it.
Ok, so I am sure you all have seen Rain man. I know those of you who are not in our position may think this a cruel analogy but it rings so true. In fact I love that movie and its very existence so much because it helps me step back and find the humor in it all.

Me “Michael do you want a sandwich?”
Mike “light”
Me “Michael do you need a diaper?”
Mike “light”

Me “Michael do you" …. Me interrupted..Mike “light”

Everything in Michael’s world revolves around a light right now.
When ever he hears an ambulance he yells “light” because they put a light on his finger to monitor his heart in the hospital. When we are watching Grey’s Anatomy everyone on the show needs a light.

Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light, Light

Sometimes I find myself breaking out in song “There’s a light…over at the Frankenstein place” from the Rocky Horror Picture Show. Just because I have to interact with the word so it doesn’t drive me crazy.
I suppose I could sing “this little light of mine” but I find the other more amusing.
Moral of this is, embrace the difference, play with the words, and laugh at it, Its ok go ahead and laugh, it is funny at times and this life is far to short for us to get irritated by all the little tics that come along with our differences.