a good place to lay down

Our pediatrician asked me a few months ago, after Jack was diagnosed, if I thought he changed after he got his 12-month vaccinations.  And I did pause for a moment to think.  Jack was such a happy, mild, easygoing little baby. Then he wasn't.  There was that lead test at age 1 that was slightly high.  Did he have a fever that day he got his shots?  Was it 12 months when things started to look different?  Or 14 months?  Did we miss something early on?  And thus begins the circle of questions that leads us who tend toward the neurotic back to the same place: somehow I did this.  Because to assign blame is a tempting momentary comfort.  If it could be the fault of someone the vaccine manufacturers or something the soil in our backyard laden with clay that he ate by the handful or, the very best, ME yes! now the self-loathing can never die! it would go down.  It would go down sharply, but at least it would go down.  At least it's not crippling helplessness.  At least it's not that something precious was stolen away right from under us and we can't get it back.  It's not a persistent question why? why? why? with no answer.  And this is how I am certain God exists: out of the noise of all my torturous thoughts a quiet choice bubbles up to the surface.  I am not helpless.  I can live the circle or I can embrace another way, put my angst to rest and press into Jesus.

I embrace another way.  I don't know how a person is woven together out of dust and marrow, or what elements influence them to be one way or another, or how those elements even came into play to begin with.  What I know is that Jack is now and has always been Jack.  New seasons blow in, old ones die out, and life always brings the unexpected.  But my growing, rambunctious, funny little boy is the same sweet baby I nursed and the same curious toddler who learned to walk.  It is the same Spirit that lives in and over him and calls him by name, that infuses love and purpose and meaning into ever step of his life:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." -Jeremiah 29:11


Amen.  It's a good place to lay down.

Jack and Chubs also finding a good place to lay down.

a deeper well

Jackie hams it up in the Ped Mall

There is an old Vineyard song that I really love.  It is called "Spirit Song" and it was written by John Wimber. I love the lyrics, especially the last part of the first verse:

O let Him have those things that hold You

And His Spirit like a dove

Will descend upon your life

And make you whole

I feel like autism can easily gain a hold of me.  It is hard to shake.  My mind goes to places that are are uncertain and ambiguous.  What if Jack's case turns severe? How will school look?  Will he have a "normal" life? What will his relationships be like?  How will my life play out in relation to Jack's?  Who will take care of him when I am gone? 

Kimmie does a good job of re-centering me.  Thank God for her. Anyone who thinks God does not speak should get married to a woman like my Wums.  "We are not going to stay stuck," she tells me. "We are going to keep pressing into Jesus - no matter how painful it is." Without her, I start to spin my wheels. I go to  places where autism and worry consume me.  At times, the worry, doubt, and anxiety seem unending and inexhaustible.


Then again, the Holy Spirit is equally unquenchable.  I have felt him by my side, beckoning me to his well - a well that is deeper than my worry, fear, and uncertainty.  Some days I get there quicker than other days.  Some days I don't get to the well at all.  And yet, He remains, constantly calling me towards his living waters.  Help me keep saying yes Jesus...

he gets around

ID bracelet.
GPS tracking device.
Talking carrier pigeon.
Mr. Incredible suit equipped with real homing signal.
Some sort of flexible, invisible, impenetrable force field.
Automatic flame-resistant voice-activated flare gun.

Oh - hello.  I'm just making out Jack's Christmas wish list.

If you've followed our family blog, you'll have read just a handful of stories outlining some of the worst moments of my life, and they all involve Jack starting somewhere and turning up some dangerous elsewhere.  Jack wanders.  And escapes too.  He has MacGyver'd his way out of cribs, strollers, pack n' plays, houses, churches, cars, gymnasiums with one door that I'm sitting right next to...

After sharing many of these stories with them, our autism resource team gave us some literature about autism and wandering. As all parents of little children do, we keep alert to the big "uh ohs" for our under-fivers: pools, lakes, cars, the street.  But I was startled to learn that kids on the autism spectrum are twice as likely as their typical peers to die of drowning or prolonged exposure.  This is in part due to their tendency to wander and their natural curiosity about water (like many other children).  It is a great challenge, we're finding, to keep track of a little kid that often doesn't respond to his name and who is well-versed in "tuning out" people and things going on around him.  He doesn't know he is lost or in danger.  We read that oftentimes these clever little ASD kids are aware when attention has shifted away from them and will take the first opportunity to bolt.  I can't tell you how many times this happens to us.  We lean over to pick up Camille's pacifier off the ground, or help Livvie with her coat, or say hello to a friend standing in line at the coffee bar and he's gone - fast.  And we've noticed that he sort of camps by a door and slips out behind people who are leaving.  Thankfully he is getting more predictable and we have learned the hot spots. But when we're somewhere unfamiliar it is a major issue.

This is just another reason we know we are creatures designed to live in community and not alone.  Hillary was right - it takes a village.  We have so often relied on the watchful eyes of friends and the kindness of strangers.  It is sobering when you learn that you cannot always meet the 'basic requirement' of keeping your child out of a life-endangering situation.  To our amazement, there are actually state funded options that we can consider.  There is even money for improving your home to include special locks, alarms, and even a backyard fence for "runners".  We are looking into some of those options.  In the meantime we thank you for all the times you have found him, retrieved him, and not run over him with your car.  We owe you a talking carrier pigeon.