Wordless Wednesday

Mini-Vacation

Given the particular circumstances of our life at this time, our family vacation this summer consisted of 2 1/2 days at the beach in Ocean Shores. My husband's wonderful grandparents have "retired" there and graciously allow us to on occasion take advantage of their home (ie take over) when they are out of town. Given the particular circumstances of our life at this time, it was just right! Our eldest spent quality time with his one true love -- water, our youngest happily dug in sand as far away from the water as he could get without leaving Mommy's side, and Mommy and Daddy shuffled barefoot between the two. We also were fortunate enough to have my parents join us for a day and a half, which was a treat for everyone!

A Belated Birthday Message

Yesterday was not a good day in our home. Ironically it also happened to be my wonderful husband's 30th birthday. He deserved so much better! All our money is going towards medical/therapy bills and the adoption these days, so there were no presents to be had. Even getting to watch the Mariners on TV was unpleasant, as they continue to lose and lose badly. And the boys were just plain naughty. Fortunately we had taken the opportunity to go out to eat the night before and had a remarkably peaceful meal.
In spite of it all, I want to say that I have a most terrific husband. He is a devoted father and a godly man. He's compassionate, but brave, hard-working, but loves to have fun with his boys. My opposite, my compliment, he's selfless when I'm selfish, engaging when I'm reserved, and logical when I'm an emotional wreck. I'm so very proud of all that he has been able to accomplish -- especially because it has been a long, hard road.
It seems that on every occasion in which I set out to buy him a card the card I choose always bears the same message: despite the craziness and challenges that we face, I'm glad we're doing it together, there is no one else I'd rather be with, etc. And that really is the truth of our relationship.
We've been through a lot in the 8 years we've been married and I really could not imagine anybody better suited to encourage me through it. Technology, specifically cell phones and instant messaging, have allowed me to bother him a million times a day when I feel that I can't go on, when I need to vent because someone is rude to me or the boys, or when I find a great deal at Target. He's always patient and always faithful to point me to the One Who really has all the answers. So, he's not only a great husband, he's my best friend.
This year, his birthday card said simply that my favorite thing in the world is spending time with him. And, in the end, that's how we spent his birthday. Together...watching the Mariners lose, but together none the less.

Photos from the Convention

Below are the best shots I was able to get of my husband (left, with hair) and his brother (right, without!) signing books at the ICRS Convention in Orlando. These particular ones are from the signing of their children's book. My photos from their second signing -- of their young adult novel -- turned out blurry. (New camera, bad lighting, exhausted wife/photographer.) They signed close to 600 books, 300 +/- each of the two days. There was a lot of excitement around the release of their novel. People were lining up over half an hour before the signing -- a big deal at this event. They got a lot of press and a whole bunch of spoiling at the hands of their publisher, Warner Press. I'm so proud of these guys and how the Lord has blessed their work!

Here are the guys with George W. Bush. Well, okay, maybe not. But he impersonates the President and wrote a book about it. More importantly, he speaks on the imitation of Christ.

This time its the real deal. The guys got to shake hands and briefly meet Ben Stein, who was there promoting his controversial movie, Expelled.

And just to prove I was there, a shot of me. With an alligator. It was Florida, after all.

Ugh

Dear friends, I ask for your prayers on our behalf once again.
It is becoming increasingly evident that we are needing to step up our search for more help with our son. This is such a frustrating process (especially as a believer) because it is so difficult to sift through all the people, the "experts" that are out there. Our OT (occupational therapist) is encouraging us to seek the help of a behavioral psychologist who specializes in ASD. This doesn't necessarily imply a BF Skinner behaviorism-type approach, for those of you who know what that means. It would ideally be someone who could help us decipher the dynamics of our son's particular behavior given his diagnosis. I don't want someone to throw some theory or approach at us. I just want someone who understands autism and is willing to sit down with us and help us discern our son's motivations and needs and then give us the tools to work with him to help us all be successful.
I am personally torn in regards to the field of psychology. Those of you who have known me for a considerable amount of time know that I hold an associate's degree in Human Services, with most of my training in the area of psychology. I was also just short of my bachelor's degree in psychology/criminal justice when life changed and I ceased attending college. Recent influences in my spiritual life have led to a sort of "reasonable doubt" in my conclusions regarding psychology as a whole, however. And now I'm left unsure of just what I believe -- and frustrated by the fact that I don't have the personal time and resources to figure it out. Yet, here I am trying to determine where to turn to help my son -- and my increasingly messed up family.
Please pray for wisdom for my husband and me as we tackle this issue. Pray that we would have the time to even talk about it together. Pray, too, that I will discipline myself to be more spiritually prepared to battle the cancerous despair that stalks me every day.
Thank you to all of you who serve as a constant source of encouragement to me, even in just reading what I share here. As always, I will keep you posted.

A Fine Jumbled Mess

My child is single-handedly shredding my heart into a million pieces. Its something I didn't think I would experience until his teenage years. I certainly didn't expect a five year-old to wield this sort of power. My husband once told me that I shouldn't let the boys run my life. They are my life, I angrily retorted. In reality though, I get his point. Its the same as letting my life be controlled by my emotions.

This week held the challenge of his first time at Vacation Bible School at our church. (He was old enough last year, but that was pre-diagnosis and I was scared out of my mind about what would happen. I'd like to say I'm braver/wiser now, but honestly I think I've just concluded that we don't have anything to lose.) He wasn't the slightest bit excited by the idea -- a little intrigued, perhaps -- but mostly indifferent.

Indifferent is an excellent term to describe his attitude about all things spiritual right now. And that's okay. He is only five, after all. The difference is that he's not the slightest bit moved by entreaties to behave one way or the other based on pleasing an authority figure, even God Himself. I would venture to guess that even the most hardened of very young children, when given a steady diet of Sunday School, Wednesday night Bible club, Children's Church, etc would at least be persuaded to behave in a certain manner when in that environment -- if for no other reason than to please the adults that are present and reap whatever positive response may result. To my son, and I assume to most other children who fall in the same location on the autism spectrum, pleasing someone is just not important. But I digress...as usual.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I mostly hoped that he would at least be immersed enough in the environment to understand the love of Jesus a little bit more. On a more basic level, I just wanted him to experience something "normal." The irony with my son is that he always has all the answers -- his teachers are impressed by his wisdom -- but its only ever facts to him. Its like the classic Christian joke about the children who answer "Jesus" to any question they are given. He knows his Bible stories through and through. He knows the gospel and that Christ is the only One who can make us clean. The tough part is that he doesn't really care. And the really tough part is that, given his mode of processing, he may never care.

From what I've read, most believers with high-functioning autism have reached a believing state only through years of rational thinking -- ironic because Christianity hardly seems rational, on the surface. As with everything else in life, this is something which I am going to have to leave to the Lord. In gatherings like Vacation Bible School, however, I am bombarded with thoughts about the hopelessness of it all -- my powerlessness as a mom. I am also reminded, however, that I have as much power as any other mom, with any other "normal" child. I just do my best to teach him, by word and deed, and then pray my heart out.

This week he came home spouting spiritual rhetoric, all of it truth. He had all the answers, he knew every detail. When I tried to use these same pieces of wisdom as an application in real-time circumstances, he was unfazed. On more than one occasion -- several occasions, in fact --his cruel, defiant behavior instead came close to tearing my heart out. (Oh-so-often I have foolishly longed for a "lower-functioning" autistic child, if only to be spared his violent anger.) Again, I feel powerless.

Our pastor has graciously supplied me with a foot-high pile of wisdom, in the form of about six books! Little by little, I am piecing together a fragile web of truths to which I'll cling. My husband was right. (!!) Letting the ironies of life, the unraveling of my expectations dictate my ability to cope is simply going to destroy me. I DO mourn the events that transpire in my life, as far as the loss of dreams go. But I am learning to no longer see them as cruel punishments with the ability to shatter me. As far as my son goes, unfortunately he still has the power to drive me to tears -- of joy and of sorrow. To a certain degree, that's what it means to be a mom. The rest is a work in progress.

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Please pray for all of us as we go our separate ways tomorrow evening, the boys to grandma and grandpa's and hubby and I to Florida. Speaking of an emotional wreck, I really hate leaving the boys and I hate flying even more. It is, however, a much-needed break and with very good reason. My wonderful and talented and all-around good guy husband will be signing books (Not always as glamorous as it sounds! Last year they -- hubby and his brother -- stood for nearly three hours, signing three-hundred books. That's a lot of people to schmooze with! And this year they'll be doing it twice!) and meeting with different publishers to find someone to take on their newest projects...which also happens to be our livelihood. If I'm lucky, sometime during the three days I'll be with him I might actually get to see him!

And now that I've spent way too long hashing out my feelings in an incoherant mess for all to read, I should probably go pack!

Happy Little Workers

As we put the boys to bed tonight, their father and I sprawled on the floor beside their bed, I jokingly suggested that the boys go downstairs and do the dishes and cleaning and that we would go to bed. To my surprise, the youngest starts to head for the stairs. His older brother declares his willingness as well and follows him.
Out of curiosity, hubby and I decide to let them go and wait to see what will happen. After about seven minutes, this mother who knows nothing good can happen when the boys are left to themselves -- especially around breakables -- decides to sneak down and see what the little darlings are up to.
I found the youngest putting away toys in the living room, albeit in very strange locations, and the eldest happily pouring dish soap on every dish in sight. Both are singing. I kid you not.
I slip back upstairs to their father to share the details of my discovery. He is still sprawled on the floor. He is both unmoved by the news and unmoved in general. His advice is to let them continue. I wait it out a few minutes more and finally convince him to join me downstairs.

This is what we found:




Granted, despite the use of nearly an entire bottle of dish soap the dishes were nowhere near clean and we did suffer one casualty in the form of a drinking glass, but all parties were pleased none the less.

PS Our eldest tried to send us back to bed, saying, "You go back to bed. When we're done you can come out and watch your movie." Apparently he believes that because he has come out of his room on more than one occasion and found us to be watching a movie, that this must be the marvelous reward that awaits us every night after he has gone to bed.

Up the Creek

With Chinook Pass finally open, we were able to make our annual pilgrimage to Boulder Cave this past Saturday. The weather was beautiful and very warm. The crest of the pass still had a decent amount of snow and the boys were eager to walk around on it. The littlest one fell on his bum, however, and quickly discovered that despite the 82 degree weather, the snow was still quite cold. The eldest adventurer trekked far up the slope, only to find that his crocs had filled with slush. Panic ensued and both boys needed to be rescued by their intrepid father and faithful puppy.

We did eventually make it to the Boulder Cave trail head and began our hike. The littlest darling made it about 5 feet before determining that it was not to his liking to have to progress on his own and let this conclusion be known to all in a five mile radius. After a great deal of coaxing, dragging, and the promise of a snack halfway up, we successfully made our ascent.

Last year it was a little too chilly to take advantage of the waterfall and stream, and the cave itself bordered on cold, but on this hot day it was a refreshing reward for all.
Since the occasion for our outing was in fact my being one year older than the year before, hubby insisted on capturing my picture, something akin to snapping a shot of Bigfoot in its rarity for our family. I have included it in the spirit of being a good sport.
By the by, while we celebrated our reaching the cave/stream by taking in its beauty/coolness, the couple behind me in the photograph marked the moment by breaking out their cigarettes. Nothing like fresh mountain air and second-hand smoke to revive the spirit!

Both boys succumbed to exhaustion and slept most of the ride home, so hubby and I were granted the freedom to hold an adult conversation...or just ride in silence!...for a pleasant conclusion to an enjoyable day!