I spent the afternoon watching my younger daughter play with some of her friends on our big trampoline. The bouncing, the giggling, screaming at bugs and high five culture for the bustling girls. After a while, my son with autism wanted to jump with them. He is an accomplished jumper and he wanted to join in at something he excels at. He mounted the round surface a confident boy among a swarm of girls. He jumped high, with split kicks and rips of laughter. In this he is like them, but he can't speak. So they ignore him, not so politely. "mom, does he have to come up now?" Never mind that its his trampoline and you nor your friends even asked him. "He just wants to show off something he's good at too." my encouraging reply. After about 5 minutes, they dismounted and left to my daughter's room. Mumbles of "what's wrong with him, anyway?"
I note to myself that I need to help my kids learn how to answer their friends' questions. I need them to see his strengths and talents first as they try to explain their brother's autism. I want them to live the habit of seeing him with their hearts first. He will need us, his family, to know how to teach others to see him in such a human way. His autism creates barriers to a typical childhood paradigm, but I find myself grateful for this. He is so sincere in his actions. He lives the daily trials of trying to belong, trying to feel competent in a world that is materially competitive and emotionally punitive to those who are different, differently-abled. When I watch on a play ground, how he tries to keep up, to fit in and he is often ignored or worse chastised, my heart breaks. But not for my son; he is steeped in love and surrounded by a fiercely loyal family. My heart breaks for the other children; whose hardened minds and perceptions are narrow and shallow, lacking the spacious capacity to appreciate his gifts. Kids who, at such a young age, are already glued to media driven brands and commercially defined ideologies. In this domain, my son has a mission. He will do more to enrich the development of many of these children than any paid assembly the school can offer. For the kids who will grow up with my son as their classmate, fellow scout, 4-H clubber and citizen, they will have enjoyed an unconditional gift from him. When they are older, wiser, parenting their own children, I hope they will remember how he helped them become better humans. It is a daunting task before my blue-eyed wonder boy, not to overcome his autism but to overcome the rigid minds and occluded hearts of sheltered children. I hope that they will remember him when they feel content in their lives. Will they recognize his gift of autism?
luv and peace ~ el
this post is for my son's tireless love of life and for those of us who have yet to learn what makes us happy
please enjoy the attached PSA from ARC of Virginia and Blueberryshoes productions... the r word
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