Anger – He Said What?!

Aaron’s Prayer

Last week Aaron was extra grouchy every morning when it came time to get out of bed. Nothing I said or did made a difference. Nothing Gary said or did made a difference, either. So, it seemed we were stuck in perpetual morning grouchiness.

Believe me, Aaron can re-define what it means to display said grouchiness. Can he ever!

I have many AAAAAHHHHHH moments when he is on that level of refusal to get out of bed. Aaron can be very verbal, and not in a nice way, when he is tired and sleepy at the beginning of his day.

Therefore, I sometimes tell him that I am done and then I disengage. I don’t respond to his words or his demands, and I tell him that the decision about his day is his to make. He eventually settles down and all is well.

Last Thursday, our Meals on Wheels delivery day, saw Aaron once again very angry about getting out of bed. I quickly decided to get off that path, telling him that I would go without him and proceeding to get ready to leave.

Aaron could not bear that thought. As we drove to the senior center a while later, Aaron’s mood improved. His music made him happy as did the thought of eating lunch at a restaurant after our deliveries.

Aaron was very helpful and he enjoyed seeing our clients, as well as the various dogs and other animals that we have come to know.

“Mom, did I do good today?” he asked as we finished at our last house.

I assured him that he did just fine, and he smiled happily as he rubbed his hands together.

Soon we were at Jose Pepper’s being pampered by Emily, our server that we have come to know. She loves Aaron and is excellent with him.

We were munching on chips and salsa, along with a free espinaca, when Aaron’s salad arrived.

“OK,” Aaron said, “let’s pray.”

I love it when the praying part is his suggestion. I also love it when he agrees to ask the blessing, which he did on this day.

Now Aaron’s prayers are always two sentences, and they are always thanking God for things. He might say, “Thank You for the food and thank You that we got to go to Meals on Wheels.”

But on this day, as we bowed our heads, Aaron got completely off script in a very wonderful way.

“Dear Lord,” he said, “next time on Thursday will You help me do better about going to Meals on Wheels?”

I seriously cannot remember Aaron praying like that in a very very long time. Maybe ever. My heart was so touched and warmed by his simple yet heartfelt prayer.

Aaron does feel things much more deeply than we usually know. It’s hard for him to process his feelings and thoughts in a controlled way when he’s frustrated. Hard for him to let us know what it is he is feeling without hurting OUR feelings.

We enjoyed our lunch so much, even if Aaron wasn’t totally sure what he was eating.

“Mom? What’s this green stuff?!”

Being color blind makes Aaron’s life even MORE interesting…and ours as well.

Green food and a great prayer.

Thank you, Lord, for those blessings.

It Was a Trip!

Well, we are home from our trip to Gary’s beautiful Smoky Mountain hometown. Days have been busy as we settle in, with Gary and I getting ready for another trip next week…this one without Aaron…so time is short for all the writing I would love to do.

As many of you know, our trek home was to help Gary’s sister, Sandra, when she returned home from having knee replacement surgery. So, in a sense this was a working trip, and one that we are very thankful we could take. A big thanks, as well, to all of you who were praying for us and for Sandra!

We brought Aaron with us, much against his desires…and at times, our better judgment. 😊 But we know that he needs to travel some with us, and that this will occur more now that Gary is retired. Plus, family wants to see Aaron, even if Aaron is less than enthusiastic.

There is so much about traveling that is a struggle for Aaron, but the biggest issue is his autistic need to have his life in just a certain order. Sorting and packing and stuffing things in a car is NOT Aaron’s definition of order. I work hard to have his DVDs in one tote…his music CDs in another…his snacks in a snack bag…his sweater…his Handy Answer Garden Book…his computer that Gary packed in a box… You get the picture.

Aaron does not.

We had already decided to take his stuffed snake and his very most favorite blanket. Yet on the morning we were leaving, downstairs he came carrying a game system that did not even work properly and that he never uses. And two extra Handy Answer books that I knew he would not touch. These became his hill to die on. No amount of persuasion worked to make him relinquish these suddenly all-important items, so in the car they were also crammed and away we drove.

Gary and I were exhausted before we had even left our circle.

Aaron settled in his seat behind us, alternating mostly between watching a movie or listening to music, whooping or clapping way too loudly until we objected loudly and he quietened down until his next burst of excitement. We saw cows and horses and sheep and rivers and lakes and interesting buildings. But the buildings that Aaron loved most were ones where we stopped for gas, for inside those buildings were LOTS of snacks he did not have in his snack bag and slushies and hot dogs and all sorts of other possibilities.

I had packed separate bags for our hotel stay that first night in order not to lug in all our heavy luggage. Of course, Aaron’s arms became full of his two extra Handy Answer books that he did not need in the hotel room and his blanket that MUST go on his bed.

Sigh.

Later, after a frustrating dinner at a REAL restaurant – as Aaron calls it – we were in our hotel room for the night. The two Handy Answer books were on a table not to be touched again until they were carried to the car the next morning.

And Aaron was snug in his bed reading his Handy Answer Garden Book with his blanket on top as it always is and always should be.

This blog would be way too long if I included details of everything. I’ll try to be brief by saying that Aaron really did do amazingly well considering all he had to handle. He was bossy at times, but we knew he was just trying to control his surroundings. It’s actually very interesting to watch but requires us to pull back and observe without our frustrations obscuring our view.

We got to Sandra’s house the night before she came home from the hospital, so we had time to get situated and organized. Gary got Aaron’s computer hooked up on the desk in his bedroom he used. I got all his other things put in place…his star lamp we had packed, his Handy Answer Garden book within reach of his bed, his other two Handy Answer books off to the side to remain untouched, his music and his movies, his monitor on the nightstand, and finally his blanket on his bed just right.

I got my part of the monitor plugged in and like we always do at night, I pushed the talk button and told him good-night one more time. Getting everything all set up and plugged in was a bit of a challenge, so when I told Aaron good night I added:

“We’re up and running, Aaron!”

Aaron: No, I’m not.

Me: You’re not what?

Aaron: I’m not up and running, I’m in bed.

A laugh was a great way to end the day! 😅😅😅

It was a blessing to be there to help Sandra, who is doing very well in her healing and progressing with her walking. We got to spend time with lots of other family, which was wonderful!

Like I said, Aaron had so much change to handle and all of us were proud of how well he did. All of us, too, were recipients of his anger and frustration that at times got the best of him.

One evening Aaron was upset and very out of sorts. Nothing calmed him and no one could reason with him. But the person who helped him the most didn’t even realize that he held the key which set Aaron back on the right track. Gary’s cousin, Bob, let Aaron talk about Star Wars this and Star Wars that. Bob listened and commented and asked questions, and Aaron slipped back into his happy place where he is at home though he was not at home. Aaron needed familiarity and having someone let him talk about a subject that was so out-of-place for all of us but Aaron was exactly the solution to ease his unsettled mind.

The last day and a half were particularly rough. Aaron was done. He was overloaded and spent and just so ready to go home. He didn’t want to come out of his room. He lay in his bed with the covers pulled over his head. When he did emerge, he was defiant and angry.

He focused his anger on Sandra. I felt so badly for her.

Sandra was his target because he knew we had come to help her, so in his mind his misery was her fault. Nothing could dissuade him from that skewed perspective.

My brother and sister-in-law came that night to visit, and somehow their attention…and their gift of a West Virginia Mountaineer cap that Aaron loves!…broke the angry cycle. Jeanie’s great interest in those Handy Answer Books sealed the deal!

The next morning, we re-stuffed the car and said our goodbyes. Aaron was happy as he could be, of course, as you can see in this picture with his Aunt Sandra and Aunt Mary Leah.

We soaked in the beautiful views as we drove away through those gorgeous mountains.

We smiled at Aaron wearing his ever-present sweater at a rest stop, no matter the warm temperature.

Now Aaron is home where he belongs. Home where he is once again finding something else unique in the produce section at Dillon’s.

Home where he can settle in to watch a show with Mom and eat his snacks, with his blanket over him as it should be.

We’ll let the dust settle before we mention a possible Thanksgiving trip!

In the Eye of the Storm

Life has been pretty tempestuous and I’m not just talking about a whirling mess out in the Gulf by the name of Laura. We’ve had our own commotion under our roof. Hurricane Aaron has been building for several days and the other night we were inundated with his storm surge. Honestly, though, my outburst was stronger than his by a long shot!

Ah, the wonders and joys of autism. Aaron wants…needs…routine and predictability and all his things in all their proper places. Upheaval of any kind creates stress for him, and stress for Aaron inevitably creates stress for Gary and me as his parents and caregivers.

The stresses around us that cause us angst do affect him because his level world is easily tipped by what Gary and I are going through. Aaron expects us to stay as level as he needs us to be, but we all know that life just isn’t that way.

When Aaron sees Gary and me off kilter, he will then seek to identify what is bothering us. Then that person or that event becomes the enemy because they have affected him. Aaron doesn’t mean to be narcissistic. That delightful character trait is part and parcel with autism. We know that fact in our heads but sometimes the understanding doesn’t transfer to our hearts during the turmoil.

Several events have impacted us over this past week. A hoped-for trip to Indiana to see our son didn’t happen. Disappointment over changed plans crept in.

Then last week we grieved with our daughter and son-in-law, Kyle and Andrea, over the sudden serious health issues of one of their beloved dogs. Aries started having seizures. The next week was heart-rending as he declined drastically. So, this past Friday they made that awful end-of-life decision. Gary and I were so sad, but I also think that seeing our children’s grief increased our own. We loved Aries, and we love Kyle and Andrea, so our sorrow was two-fold.

This is the prayer Kyle prayed the night they said goodbye to Aries:

Aaron really can’t handle seeing us cry but try as we might he did see our tears over the loss of Aries. We now had the double whammy of changed trip plans and heartbreak over Aries.

However, we were only halfway done with disruptions. Out in the ocean, Tropical Storm Laura was brewing. Kyle and Andrea live to the east of Houston, near the water. Kyle works on a fast responder ship, and those huge vessels don’t stay in the harbor during a hurricane. Fast forward to today: Kyle is now on the ship up in one of the channels and will stay there indefinitely. Andrea is home alone with their other 3 doggies. She knows she is welcome to go to Kyle’s parent’s home a little further inland but it’s not best to leave your home if you can possibly stay. So, Gary flew to Houston yesterday and is there with her, which is such a comfort. His retirement a month ago is a blessing!

Aaron senses our concern about all this hurricane business. He usually likes to watch the progress of hurricanes, but not this time. Why? Because Gary and I are spending too much time, in Aaron’s opinion, monitoring Hurricane Laura…wondering about Kyle and Andrea…planning Gary’s sudden trip…and talking on the phone. No matter how calm we are, all this time and talk is unusual to Aaron. Sometimes it takes time away from Aaron.

On Monday evening, as I finished looking once again at the Weather Channel, Aaron became rude and I became undone. I lost my temper and lost my cool, and Aaron reacted, and we had our own tempest in the family room. These things do happen, especially when we are stressed, but then the tension and guilt are increased. It takes some doing to un-do it all.

Aaron paced in and out of the family room where I still sat. We tried to watch a Little House episode but he just could not settle down so he chose to end it and go to bed. But he kept coming back to me with one more word of anger. Then he finally stood in front of me.

“I know what I’ll do!!” he belligerently said.

And with that, he stuck his tongue out at me.

I tell you, I just had to laugh. He didn’t mean for it to be hilarious, but it was. I kept my laugh to a minimum and somehow he didn’t get more angry, but it was just really funny.

I knew when Aaron was finally OK by what happened soon after. He came bounding once again into the family room, stared at me, and then said:

“Mom? Do you know what a sea mine is?”

A sea mine?! But I was actually quite relieved to be talking about sea mines. Aaron is playing Battleship on his computer, so talk of sea mines was perfectly normal for him. It showed that he had at last moved beyond our anger and beyond the unsettled surroundings of his world, and he was back to his normal. I didn’t care one bit about sea mines but trust me, at this point sea mines were a very welcome reprieve!

Aaron’s normal rarely involves human emotion or important life events that impact us. These issues cause him distress, so he quickly reverts to talk of battleships and sea mines and gun turrets and whatever else comprises his focus at that time. Gary and I so often shake our heads, but we know we must jump on board with Aaron in order to preserve our peace. It’s both very frustrating and very fascinating to see how his mind works.

There is one more thing going on. Aaron’s bedroom remodel begins tomorrow. Gary and I had to empty it before Gary left for Houston. That caused some anxiety, to say the least. But beyond that is the fact that now Aaron is in another bedroom where all his things are NOT in their normal place.

“Mom!! This bed isn’t like my bed!!”

“Mom!! I like my lamp better!!”

“Mom!! I don’t like this hard floor!!”

“Mom!! I hope I’m not getting a hard floor!!”

“Mom!! I want to keep my carpet!!”

“Mom!! My chair doesn’t work right on this hard floor!!”

Shall I continue?

No. But Aaron will, trust me.

I took Aaron to Outback yesterday after we dropped Gary off at the airport. Aaron was in his happy place…a restaurant with his choice of food! As we munched on the warm bread and butter, Aaron looked down at the two pieces left on the cutting board.

“Mom,” he said, “you can have this one and I’ll have the other one.”

I laughed because the one he generously gave to me was the much smaller piece while he got the bigger one. And it just reminded me of how life is with Aaron. He doesn’t mean to be this way, but he does require the bigger part of our time and of our understanding and of our attention.

Therefore, Gary and I require a bigger part of God’s grace and God’s understanding and God’s strength on days such as we have had this past week.

And God’s forgiveness when we blow it.

I’m so thankful that He understands.

And I was so thankful to see Aaron smile yesterday as I was able to restore some of his normal. It’s my responsibility, yes, but also my joy as his mother and his caregiver.

By the way, in the eye of the storm there is peace. God’s peace, which never fails, is there for me.

I’m thankful for that, too, during each storm!

Magical and Maddening

“Aaron, look!!” I exclaimed one recent night as I closed our family room blinds. Aaron walked over to join me at the window. There, emerging from the grass in our front yard, were dozens of fireflies. Lightning bugs, we called them where I grew up in West Virginia.

Aaron thought they were very cool! He insisted that Gary come to the window as well, and so we stood there together for a minute, enjoying the sparkling little bugs.

A few nights later, Gary and I sat on our front porch after the stifling heat of the day had subsided somewhat. It’s nice for us to enjoy a few moments of quietness and of being together, just the two of us without Aaron’s loud interruptions. As dusk fell and darkness was encroaching, up from the grass once again came those beautiful fireflies.

It was captivating watching their glow, so many of them combining into a magical light show right in front of us. So peaceful.

Then…BAM!!

Out on the porch rushed Aaron, who is rarely quiet. There went the peacefulness of our front porch evening!

“MOM!! Are we watching a Little House tonight?” he asked, knowing the answer.

I assured him that we would watch an episode, as always.

But, as always, that wasn’t enough for Aaron.

“When?” he asked. “Can we do it now?”

I knew what was ahead but wanting to remain in the magic of firefly glow I told Aaron that I would let him know when I was ready. This answer never suits Aaron.

One of the very hardest things for Aaron to do is to wait…on anything. He especially finds it nearly impossible to wait on me to watch a program with him when HE is ready. He escalates quickly into anger at those times, no matter what I say or how well I prepare him for the inevitable wait. That night was no exception.

Our evening was quickly reverting from magical to maddening.

Such is often the life of a caregiver.

My blogging friend, Cheryl, is the author of a caregiving blog written out of her experiences as she cares for her husband who has Parkinson’s. Our situations are very different but also very similar. I have loved her insights and her godly wisdom.

In one recent blog…linked here… (https://parkinsonscaregivernet.wordpress.com/2020/06/13/similar-yet-different-but-really-similar/) – she wrote:

“But we live for the moments of joy: seeing our loved one smile, hearing them recount experiences from the past, watching them respond to family and friends, hearing them tell a favorite joke. Those moments may be brief, so we hold them sacred in our hearts and bring them to mind when the times are difficult. Another is the joy of knowing we are doing our best, that we are doing the right thing, that we are doing God’s work here on earth by caring for our loved one. Let’s not forget that, especially when the moments are difficult or uncomfortable.”

The difficult moments with Aaron often involve his autistic behaviors…his demands that life revolves around HIS order and expectations of how things are to be. During those times, no one else’s desires or needs are considered by Aaron to have importance.

Maddening.

On our firefly night, we told Aaron that he needed to wait. We tried to get him to enjoy the magical lights in our front yard but he was blinded by his own frustrations and cared nothing for the beauty around him. Only one thing mattered. And he wanted that one thing NOW.

Anger intruded into our evening and stood on our front porch, as opposite in its effect as could possibly be when compared to the earlier joy of time together with Gary among the little sparkles in our yard.

Later, the anger was gone as Aaron and I watched our show. Aaron is usually oblivious to the effect he has on us during those times as he brushes off the recent outburst and is happy in his bubble again, where all is well.

Oh, that it was so easy for me to do the same!

Like Cheryl said, though, it’s important to hold the moments of joy sacred in our hearts and in our memories. And to know that we, as caregivers, are doing God’s work here on earth.

My heart this morning was heavy as I helped Aaron during his second seizure…knew that I would have bedding to wash later…canceled my hair appointment…and tried to still my worried heart about other matters.

I had finished my normal Bible study and so I opened my Bible randomly to see where my eyes fell. I love doing that! It’s like opening a treasure box that I just unearthed, excited to see what’s inside!

And look what God gave me!!

“But ask the beasts, and they will teach you; the birds of the heavens, and they will tell you; or the bushes of the earth, and they will teach you; and the fish of the sea will declare to you. Who among all these does not know that the hand of the Lord has done this? In His hand is the life of every living thing and the breath of all mankind.” (Job 12:7-10)

It’s all in God’s hands!

Aaron…me…Gary…others I love…our world…

All life and breath is in God’s hand. All of creation declares that truth!

Now it’s up to me to trust our loving God and to rest in His hand. And to…most importantly…trust Aaron into His hand and know that God put Aaron into our lives for a purpose I may never know on this earth.

But may I trust God’s knowing. Trust and know just as much as the beasts and the birds and the bushes trust and know Who has done all this!!

Fireflies know, too, I am sure.

Maybe that’s why they shine their magical lights for all to see!

May I do likewise.

Photo by National Wildlife Photo Contest entrant Radim Schreiber.

MERCY!! AARON!!

I’m a southern girl. Well, from southern West Virginia – born and bred – so no matter what the Civil War folks say about my home state, I still consider myself to be from the south.

I guess that’s why sometimes I just want to look at Aaron when he’s being a particular form of disagreeable and just say, “MERCY!! AARON!!”

And then tell him that he just needs to hush!!

When I talk to Andrea or Andrew on the phone, Aaron invariably barges in the room and wants to talk. This happened on Saturday evening as Andrea and I were gabbing away. I knew Aaron would persist until I caved, so I finally put the phone on speaker and off Aaron went.

He was particularly fixated on Luigi’s Mansion 3 – his newest Nintendo Switch game. And he was even more fixated on going over Luigi and Gooigi. I think I spelled that right.

He wanted Andrea to know who Gooigi is. What Gooigi is made of. What color Gooigi is. What Gooigi looks like. What Gooigi does.

Andrea, ever patient with her brother, commented on everything Aaron said. She even asked questions…good questions…which fanned Aaron’s flames and off he blazed.

Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.

It took me awhile to put out the flames. I usually have to end the talking by telling Aaron to say goodbye, after he has pushed me away several times from taking back the phone.

Never once does he ask about Andrea or Kyle, or Darcy or Oakley or Aries or Siggy…all dogs, by the way. 😊

For some reason on Sunday evening, Aaron kept referring to that phone call. He declared that I only wanted to talk to Andrea…that I never talk to him (REALLY??!!)…that I would hardly let him talk to her…and so forth and so on.

Everything is bad to Aaron when he gets like this, including the fact that I am a bad mom. I eventually shut down when this happens, meaning that I do not fan the flames of Aaron’s anger by things I say. Even my eyes – “Don’t squint your eyes, MOM!!”…or my voice inflections, can increase his anger.

Nothing that I say helps. Nothing that Gary says helps.

Aaron’s lack of empathy and his inability to connect the dots like we do is a most frustrating part of his autism.

The next morning, weary and bothered, I thought of how my friend – a manager at Aaron’s day group – deals with these issues on the day after they occur. Aaron often doesn’t want to go to Paradigm on that “next day” after he has blown it, but Barb always reminds him of an important truth.

“It’s a new day, Aaron,” she says. “We just start all over and don’t let yesterday bother us.”

Thinking of that…of a new day…reminded me also of the wonderful promise in Lamentations 3:22-23:

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness.”

God’s love and mercy to me, no matter how much I sin, is new every morning. And I know that I must also face every new morning with Aaron in the light of God’s loving-kindness to me.

If God is so loving and kind to me, how can I be any less to Aaron?

That next morning was still a little rough on Aaron’s part. And then when I picked him up in the afternoon, as I watched him approach the van, I saw him stop and turn, running back into the building.

He returned, holding a paper that blew in the wind as he ran toward me again, his face all smiles.

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“MOM!!” he said as he got in the van. “I colored this for you!”

With great delight he handed me this picture:

I was so touched. So amazed.

Amazed that Aaron sat still long enough to color.

Touched that he wanted to mend our fences in such a sweet way.

And both amazed and touched that it was a cross he colored for me.

You see, it’s because of the cross that I can even begin to love Aaron as I should, especially when he is at times so unlovable.

It’s because Jesus died for me, and because He is my Savior, that I AM loved and that I CAN love.

And I love how the old King James Version says that verse I wrote earlier. “It is because of the Lord’s mercies that we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not.”

I am not consumed by hatred and sin or God’s judgment, but only because of God’s love and mercy.

Love and mercies that are new every morning.

Like I said, how can I love Aaron any less when I am so loved by God?

One more thing. The cross is also the reason that I can bear the sadness and fear of Aaron’s 3:00 a.m. seizure today, and another one later. The reason I can see him sleeping again now and know he may likely seize again.

The reason I can bear up under the disappointment of our doctor day being canceled…because doctor day means, to Aaron, eating out day. And he does LOVE eating out! It’s always a fun and happy day, but not today.

Aaron goes through these disappointments and rough days often, which means I do as well.

But like the verses above said, great is God’s faithfulness. He doesn’t leave me to handle it all alone. He is right beside me, my best friend, with His mercies and love that give me His peace that passes understanding.

Speaking of understanding, I won’t even go into all the detail of having to wash Aaron’s favorite fuzzy blanket today because he spilled coffee on it…and how it’s the only blanket that he wants to use on his lap when he’s at his desk…or on the couch.

About trying other blankets.

Rejecting those blankets.

Checking his blanket in the wash.

Observing me putting it in the dryer.

Following me around the house because without a blanket he can’t sit or lay.

MERCY!!! AARON!!!

Fixing the Broken

Last night I felt like this:

Mangled. Broken. Greatly in need of repair.

These were Aaron’s glasses a couple weeks ago after an incident at his day group. Mixing all the various special needs can at times be volatile. Even I, who have dealt with many pairs of broken glasses, was surprised at the level of damage done to this pair. I honestly wasn’t sure that they could be fixed.

I took the rather hopeless mess that used to be glasses into our eye doctor’s office a couple days later. I hoped that maybe, just maybe, they really weren’t beyond repair. The kind technician couldn’t hide the look of surprise on her face, which didn’t fill me confidence that anything could be done for them.

Imagine my surprise, though, when before long she returned with this:

WOW!! Talk about a miracle re-do of what I thought was hopeless! She received my profuse thanks with a smile on her face and the comment that she loved a good challenge. I’m thankful that she did, indeed!

Being the mother and caregiver of an adult special needs “child” with behaviors can be exhausting…physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually. I believe that about covers it. And while I don’t want to come across as complaining, facts are facts and truth is truth.

If there’s one thing I’ve wanted to be on this blog, it’s truthful…truthful without being unkind to Aaron in my honesty. Talking about being truthful, Aaron is just that…at least in his mind. He has few filters, and totally does not get social norms. He is often unaware of other’s feelings. He gets stuck in his own mind about certain issues and is truly stunning in his inabililty to switch gears and judge those issues with good reasoning. His own comfort is paramount to him, most of the time, so if his comfort is interrupted or his wishes unmet, we are often met with his anger.

And I get tired. I get angry. I did last night, when Aaron who had been happy decided to be rude just before bed. He and I didn’t have our normal cheerful bedtime routine. He was still out of bed, on his computer, when I went to bed. I didn’t even challenge him. I have no idea when he went to sleep.

I spent time with the Lord this morning, reading about the compassion of Jesus and knowing that I needed that same compassion for Aaron. Somehow, it’s easier to show compassion for ones I seldom or only occasionally see. Showing that similar level of compassion for Aaron can be very hard to do over the long term, day after day.

I was very surprised this morning to hear Aaron’s floor creaking before 7:30. Most mornings I must roust him out of bed…very unhappily on both our parts, I might add. I thought this morning he would definitely be a hibernating bear, but no, he was awake and downstairs early.

He knocked politely on the bathroom door, and when I opened it with some dread, I was so relieved to see him with bright eyes and a sweet smile. He even received the hug I offered! We were off to a good start!

We sat in the living room, enjoying the warm fall decorations and soft twinkling lights. I had intended to sit there and pray, but sitting with Aaron was important, I knew. We talked softly about some of this and some of that. Then Aaron decided that he could take his pills, but I reminded him that it was too early. He wondered why, and once again I explained how he really should take them about 12 hours apart.

“So, Aaron, it’s nearly 8:00 right now,” I began.

He immediately looked at his left arm, pushed up his sweater sleeve, and gazed down at his wristwatch perched halfway up his arm. I just watched with a smile on my face, waiting for what I knew was coming.

“It’s not 8:00,” he blandly stated as he stared down at his watch.

“Well, I just meant that it’s ALMOST 8:00,” I explained.

“It’s 7:41,” he flatly continued.

Gone was the lesson on the 12-hour rule. Gone was my caring at all at that point about the 12-hour rule! In its place was my laughter, deep from inside…much needed laughter.

And Aaron tolerated my laughter, even though he had no idea why the time of 7:41 made Mom laugh. Many times, Aaron gets angry when I laugh, so I don’t…until he is out of earshot. But today Aaron let me laugh. This was a gift.

Later, we sat at the table where Aaron ate a plate full of fried eggs with the yellow hard the way he likes them and where he talked and talked and talked…about separatist droid armies and Trandoshans and commandos and clones…and anything but heart matters. Or the 12-hour rule.

But it was good. Very good.

It was our normal.

And it was a gift. A gift from the same God Who also fills our hearts…my heart…with love and compassion for our Aaron.

I know all too well that we’ll have this again:

But I also know that we’ll have this:

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Thanks to God who fixes our broken!

“He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.” (Psalm 147:3)

Mom, Don’t Be Sad

Blah! Bleh! However you want to spell it, it’s how I feel right now.

If we’ve learned one thing about Aaron, it’s that we’re always learning about Aaron. The autistic brain, as well as the brain changed by seizures…and let’s not forget the brain impacted by so many meds…is indeed a complex mess at times.

Aaron’s mess often makes me a mess.

I also feel like a Yo-Yo. Up and down…up and down…up and down.

Aaron had a cold last week and was home for a couple days from his day group because of it. On Friday he was out of bed and reluctantly ready for Paradigm when I looked down the hall and realized that he had gone back to bed.

Oh well, I thought. I guess it’s another home day for Aaron. I had a must-do trip down to the air base scheduled, so off I went, minus Aaron. But I was barely down the road when my phone rang, and there was Aaron, out of bed and ready to go to Paradigm. I turned around, picked him up, and off we went – his current CD of choice playing and a smile on his face.

What a relief to me to see him happy!

I told him about the pizza lunch that was scheduled, being careful not to use the word “party,” because Aaron doesn’t care for parties. I definitely didn’t tell him about the planned dance, either, because Aaron not only doesn’t like parties, he REALLY dislikes parties with dancing. It’s all just too much sensory overload for Aaron, despite the fact that Aaron himself causes plenty of sensory overload for those of us who are routinely living in his world. Go figure.

Aaron was still pleasantly happy when we pulled up to Paradigm. He was still happy when he called me later to give me a report on his day. And happy still when I picked him up later…an early pick-up just for fun and so we could make our Friday Wal-Mart shopping trip for weekend treats.

Aaron came to the van looking like this:

Chris, one of the staff, jokingly put some tape on Aaron’s mouth…and I can surely guess why…and Aaron loved it. He wanted to go into Wal-Mart that way, but stuffy mom said no!

Aaron immediately asked me in Wal-Mart if we could buy him an Xbox and I immediately told him no…as always. I reminded him that an Xbox is too expensive to buy for a weekend treat. Aaron asked if he could go to the electronic section to look around since he had no interest in looking at hair spray and make-up, so off he went with a reminder from me to NOT run!

I should have also reminded him to not bother any of the associates since I know that Aaron invariably finds an unsuspecting associate in their blue vest, and invariably asks them questions. Friday was no exception, as Aaron told me later what happened.

“Hey!” Aaron said as he pounced upon said associate. “Do you sell any CHEAP Xboxes?!” 😊 😊

Once home, Aaron helped me carry bags in the house. He helped me make spaghetti for supper. Never mind the broken noodles all over the stove-top. He was trying his best. He helped me make brownies, looking down at the bowl of batter and asking, “Is that the WHOLE brownie?!”

He set the table, took the recycling items to the garage bin, and learned a funny song to sing to Kyle the next day for his birthday. And after supper, he crammed spaghetti in his mouth and mumbled, “Send a picture to Andrea!!”

On Saturday morning, we called Kyle for his birthday and Aaron happily sang his funny song that he had practiced over and over in his monotone voice while on his computer: “Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you! You look like a monkey. You smell like one, too!”

And Aaron, who is often jealous of his new brother-in-law, rubbed his hands together in delight after he sang his song, and ran upstairs after laughing loudly.

That afternoon, while Gary worked on our extremely frustrating messed-up internet, Aaron and I went for a walk in Swanson Park. We saw beautiful Kansas prairie grasses.

We saw lots of very old, dramatic trees.

Aaron even happily posed for a picture.

But best of all, we got up close and personal with this gorgeous deer.

What a very fun, relaxing afternoon!

We finished the day watching a movie while eating supper, with Aaron totally delighted to eat his egg rolls as he watched a huge volcano erupt.

After church on Sunday, Gary had to get busy on our internet repair again, so Aaron and I scooted down to the grocery store for his favorite Cheddar Pasta Salad…and chicken…and drinks…and then doughnuts at Paradise Donuts down the road. But as the day went on, and especially while I was on the phone with Andrea, I noticed that Aaron’s happy brightness was fading. And after another movie that night, and one of his favorite television DVD shows, I knew that our happy time was over.

I just wish I knew why.

I really wish that Aaron knew why and could talk about it.

Asking Aaron to talk about his feelings or to verbalize his thoughts about these things would be like me asking him to walk up the stairs if he had Cerebral Palsy and was in a wheelchair. That’s how impossible it is.

And even though I kept telling myself that this very happy time would no doubt end, I still realized that deep down I dreamed that maybe it wouldn’t end…that maybe Aaron would see how much fun it is to be happy and compliant, and would want to stay that way.

It was like Aaron crashed. Like he went from being manic to being angry again, for whatever reason. He was just upset for no reason that I could see.

He said he was not taking his pills, but he did. He said he was not taking his CBD oil, but he did. He said he wasn’t going to bed, but he did. He said he wasn’t going to brush his teeth, and he didn’t do that. Of course. 😊

I just shut down, trying to stay flat and unaffected in order to not escalate Aaron’s unhappiness. He noticed my change every bit as much as I noticed his. He didn’t like it and wanted me to be happy even as he was anything but.

“Mom!” he said. “Don’t be sad!”

But if I tried to explain why I was sad he did not want to talk about it or to hear me talking about it…talking about how he had dramatically changed so quickly. No talking allowed. But no sadness, either.

Aaron was worried that I wouldn’t participate in our nightly routine, especially talking to him over the monitor from our bedroom after he was all tucked in his bed.

“Mom?” he asked over the monitor. “Are you going to say goodnight?”

So I did, half- heartedly, and he knew…but he thought that he should just be happy with what we had at that moment. And so did I. But once more before we were done, he said it again.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

My tears came then when Aaron couldn’t see them. Tears of frustration and sadness. Tears due to the realization of how very much I loved our fun days, without any stress, and how much I wished they could last forever.

And having those happy days, only to have the anger re-emerge, showed me just how stressed I often am. I was so relaxed and content when Aaron was happy, but the instant stress again was a real blow.

Many of you reading this, in your own particular context, know exactly what I mean. The ups and downs of life take a toll. The good news and the bad news. The hope and then the dashing of hope.

Long term care-giving mamas, though, know it all too well. Balancing the moods, the environment, the activities, the meds, the decisions…and most definitely, the guilt for not thinking we’re doing it well enough.

Gary was right beside me last night, as always.

And so was God. He reminded me as I laid awake for a long time of His love for me and of His unending grace. Grace upon grace. Grace for me and for Aaron…and grace to give to me so I can give it to Aaron.

God’s strength is made perfect in my weakness. He never lets me down or leaves me to my own resources. He is forever there for me with that tangible comfort that only those who really walk with Him will know and understand.

In a real sense, these hard times…this Yo-Yo life with Aaron…keep me experiencing God in a way that I might not otherwise. For that I am thankful.

“Mom, don’t be sad.”

Aaron has no idea of how God uses him to teach me so much.

The Turn Signal

A few months ago, as I headed out of our neighborhood taking Aaron to his day group, I noticed that my right turn signal didn’t sound right. The second time that I pushed up on the turn signal lever and heard that very fast clicking sound, I knew what it was. Either my front or my rear turn signal was out. I drove across town, dropped Aaron off, and then before leaving I got out of the van to check the turn signals. Sure enough, the rear signal wasn’t working.

Bummer! Of all the days to have this happen, it had to be on the day I had several errands to run instead of just going straight home. One of the places I had to go was McConnell Air Base…and they are super picky there about things like the speed limit and vehicles working correctly. Imagine that!

I drove under the speed limit the entire time I was on base and was thankful that I only had to use my right turn signal once. But I was sure that this one time would be the one time that an MP was behind me!

I had also promised Aaron that I would take him to one of his favorite stores, Big Lots, after I picked him up. Our local Big Lots had closed, so I had to once again do some extra driving in my defective van. I never knew how many times I needed that right turn signal until it wasn’t working! And I decided a possible conversation with a police officer was a better choice than the conversation I would need to have with Aaron if I told him our Big Lots trip was cancelled.

I wanted to paste a sign in the rear van window that explained my situation…to let others know that I knew my light wasn’t working…to tell them that I really DO know how to use a turn signal. How many times have I said that very thing out loud about other drivers who don’t use their turn signals? I was feeling a little guilty, wondering how many of their signals were broken, too.

Sometimes we just can’t see and don’t understand what a person is going through, do we? We look at the outside and think things look fine, but the inner workings of a person are far more complex than what we outwardly see. This fact is very true for every single one of us but is very VERY true for our Aaron.

To be clear, I am not saying that Aaron is broken. What I AM saying is that Aaron’s responses and handling of life situations can manifest outward behaviors that are extremely frustrating for others around him to understand and handle correctly. His brain is wired way differently than typical people, and so his turn signal often doesn’t let anyone around him know the direction he is getting ready to take until he’s turned that corner and there’s no going back.

Karen Williams wrote in a paper years ago concerning students with autism: “Rage reactions/temper outbursts are common in response to stress/frustration. Children with Asperger’s Syndrome rarely seem relaxed and are easily overwhelmed when things are not as their rigid views dictate they should be. Interacting with people and coping with the ordinary demands of everyday life take continual Herculean effort.”

Williams was writing about young students, but this same description also applies to adults with autism…to our adult with autism…our Aaron – who definitely flipped his turn signal on last week at the theater.

First, the set-up: Aaron had been home for three days this past week due to our severe weather chances and flooding concerns. Aaron loves being at home where he is totally relaxed and able to do all the things he enjoys. But when he must re-enter normal life, like going back to his day group at Paradigm, it is often a huge struggle for him. And therefore, for everyone around him.

On Friday, Aaron was reluctant to go to Paradigm. Even the thought of Friday movie day didn’t really help him. He decided not to go to the theater, despite having his nine dollars in his wallet for popcorn and the prospect of a fun movie to see. I encouraged him to go to the theater, and his staff encouraged him to go after texting with me. But no one MADE him go. However, that is not at all how Aaron saw it. His anger was getting deeper.

Second, the incident(s): At the theater, Aaron took a behavioral turn that everyone could see despite his lack of a working signal. I don’t even know all that happened there, and don’t really want to know. I believe, though, that his day group staff was told by theater staff that Aaron needed to leave. No matter what I know about Aaron and what I understand about his autistic outbursts, these times test my love and my patience. I’m a normal mom who is terribly embarrassed when Aaron blows it, especially in public.

I wonder what all he did there. Who saw him? Did anyone we know see and hear our son acting that way? Now what?

Third, the repercussions: When I went to pick Aaron up at the theater, he was sitting in the Paradigm van. Aaron emerged from the van with a very unhappy face, and I knew something not-so-good had happened. Athena, his kind staff, gave me a very brief update, but Aaron’s still-angry mood told us it was not the time to discuss it.

He and I talked about it on the way to Wal-Mart, and again inside the store. But Aaron was saturated with frustration and guilt so I knew I could only say so much before I would push him over the edge again. Two repercussions that initially happen with Aaron, when that angry turn he took is over, are regret and guilt. He truly wishes that he hadn’t gone so far in his anger.

Aaron was totally compliant in Wal-Mart, overly so. This is his way of making up for his angry actions. At the self-checkout counter, Aaron was super helpful. He held my coupons, helped unload the cart, and couldn’t say thank-you enough to the clerk who assisted us.

“Am I being good, Mom?” he asked at one point. “Am I helping?” And he looked me square in the eyes, waiting for my response and my affirmation. It would have been so easy for me to say, “Yes, Aaron, but I sure do wish you would have been this nice in the theater!”

But when I saw his eyes, tired from the bad day and hopeful that he was finally doing something good, I nearly cried. Right there in the check-out lane at Wal-Mart with holiday shoppers all around me, I wanted to burst into tears for Aaron and for me. For Aaron, because I fully know that he can’t repair his broken turn signal in time to avoid that wrong turn. And for me, because I love him and I want to “fix” him, but I really can’t.

I turned away quickly and finished paying. Aaron helped gather up the bags out of the cart and we walked to the van, happy that the rain had stopped. When we got home, another storm was coming. Aaron was concerned about the lightning while he was on his computer, so he wanted me to be sure and tell him if he needed to shut the computer off.

“Mom,” he instructed, “come up and tell me, or call to me from downstairs, OK?”

He waited for me to respond.

“I’m giving you two decisions,” he finished.

I always smile at how he says that…two decisions instead of two choices.

But I thought of how true his saying was at that time. I did have two decisions regarding more than lightning and his computer. I also had two decisions about that turn signal issue of Aaron’s. I could be angry and berate him, or I could be loving and instructive at the same time. The decision is mine to make, despite how difficult it sometimes is. It’s easier to lash out at Aaron, honestly, but harder to be loving and patient with instruction thrown in. Yet the first decision only brings more anger and hurt. The second decision, hopefully, helps to fix Aaron’s hurting heart and show him a better way to handle his anger.

Back to my van’s turn signal – Gary was able to pick up the correct part and repair it that evening. Aaron was beside him the entire time, at one point using that moment to show Gary some scrapes on his legs. Aaron is so oblivious about how he looks in public, and at times it’s really funny.

But at other times, like the theater incident, it’s anything BUT funny. How we wish that we could install the part that would make Aaron’s turn signal work correctly and avoid all the damage that’s done when it doesn’t!

How many times do I wish I could paste a sign on Aaron’s back that explains his behaviors?!

I can’t, though. We just keep driving down this road with Aaron, trusting that some people understand and not worrying about the ones who don’t. Easier said than done! But God does give grace and He gives us wisdom to make that right decision…and He redirects us when we don’t!

Aaron’s turns aren’t easy when his signal’s messed up, but we’re there to repair the damage and pray it works better at the next turn.

And sometimes hang on for dear life!

My Special Needs

I hate Mom.

Those were the last words I heard Aaron mutter softly as he lay in his bed after a very rough evening. I heard those words on the baby monitor that I keep on my nightstand so that I can hear seizures. I would rather have heard a seizure, honestly.

And I was so frustrated at his hurtful words that I picked up the monitor, pressed the talk button, and nearly…very nearly…spoke angry words that would have only exacerbated the situation on so many levels. I am glad I didn’t.

Earlier in the evening I had written another funny clip about Aaron on Facebook. I love sharing the very unique and humorous ways that Aaron speaks. His take on the world can be side-splitting hilarious and so refreshing.

But he has another take on the world as well, and that take can take a huge toll on me and on Gary…and take every tiny ounce of patience that we have left in order not to erupt ourselves into verbal onslaughts that will match Aaron’s, word for word.

I knew that we might be in for a rough night when Aaron was still playing a game on his computer after 9:00. He’s usually downstairs long before then, hovering over me, waiting for me to finish whatever I am doing so that we can watch one of his TV shows on his DVD set. But 9:00 came and went, with no return of Aaron who had previously asked me to assure him that we would watch a DVD at his precise, set time.

Upstairs I went, only to find him playing one of his favorite Lego Star Wars games on his computer. When Aaron plays a game like this, he has a very hard time stopping it and saving it. He must reach a certain point in the game, and in his mind, before he will turn it off. For over an hour he kept repeating the same phrase, loudly: “I’m coming!!” Over and over and over.

I knew better than to rush him, but I also knew that the clock was moving toward bedtime and not TV time. We were in for it, I knew it…and I was right.

Aaron finally rushed downstairs and barreled into the family room, eyes wide and words rushing out.

“Can we watch Bones, Mom?!! Can we??!!”

I reminded him of the late hour, but he didn’t care one bit about that. He was in such a tizzy. And he could tell that I was tired and didn’t want to stay up late. His whole nighttime routine was a wreck now, due to no fault of mine, but Aaron refused to take responsibility.

Mom was mean. Mom was dumb. Mom didn’t care. On and on.

He turned his DVD on. Turned it off. More yelling. Turned it on. Turned it off. Asked if I was crying, over and over and over…for Aaron does NOT like to see me cry. I wasn’t crying, but he didn’t believe me, so he stared and stared at me. And he also does not like for me to make funny eye or facial movements, so he stood in front of me as I sat on the couch, demonstrating to me with his own face the looks from MY face that he would not tolerate.

It was just too much. He looked so funny, really, that in my tiredness I did the forbidden…I laughed. Aaron thought I was laughing AT him personally. He erupted and we traveled even further downhill than we already were.

It was a wild hour after that. He was in and out of his bedroom…in and out of bed…in and out of our bedroom. He was calmer talking to Gary…angry talking to me. Say goodnight, Mom…no, don’t say goodnight, Mom. I don’t want your goodnight kiss…OK, I do want your kiss.

He calmed when Gary came upstairs. He let me hug and kiss him goodnight. And then the soft, muttered words that I heard on the monitor…words that showed he was still upended and very frustrated.

My calmness during the whole episode only seemed to fuel his flames. The realistic, upset words I did say seemed to appeal to him more than soft kindness. So strange how that works. So strange how that complex brain of his works.

Seizures are honestly easier to handle than are the behaviors. Seizures are scary and sad. Behaviors are exhausting and often hurtful. People feel sorry for seizures. But behaviors…what do you do with behaviors?

And behaviors leave me feeling like a very unfit special needs mother. I am not above the anger and the lost patience that Aaron’s anger and lost patience trigger in me. Then comes the guilt and regret.

I lay in bed last night, Gary’s calmness and nearness giving me comfort. But my tension was strong, too, and sleep wouldn’t come. My tossing and turning was keeping Gary awake, too, I knew. I would relax and then thoughts would wash over me. I would relax again and Aaron would stir, seeming to be restless as well.

There are so many thoughts and emotions that go through my mind after these episodes, infrequent though they have been lately. How could I have handled it differently? What should I have said? What should I have NOT said? Guilt for not liking Aaron when he’s out of control. On and on.

What I do know is that God is always there for me. He heard me last night, there in the dark, praying and confessing and praising. He knows my form. He knows that I am human and that I am weak and that I need Him, totally. He knows that I get frustrated and tired, and that I do love Aaron with all my heart. And He knows that though I love Aaron, sometimes I don’t like him when he’s angry and full of hurtful…and hurting…words.

Being a mom of a child with special needs is never easy. Some days…and happenings…make it harder than others.

But then I think about God, and how often I am that child with special needs and how much He gives me His love and His grace.

That’s the kind of parent I need to be with Aaron. Forgiving him…understanding but not condoning…and opening my heart and my arms with love.

I have no superior wisdom or strength. I mess up…I give up…I look up. And there I find God, always understanding and giving me grace.

God’s a good Father to me, his special needs daughter. I need all He gives to me and does for me, for I have nothing of my own. He certainly didn’t choose me for this parenting role because of anything I have to bring to the table. He chose me because…well, I don’t really know. But what I DO know is that He is all-knowing about what is best, and that in all of this I see MY special needs every bit as much as I see Aaron’s.

And in the seeing, I am shown God’s great love and great grace and how His arms are always under me, bearing me up when I am at my weakest. Which is often.

God loves me, His special needs daughter.

And He will give me all that I need to do the same for Aaron, His special needs son that He entrusted to my feeble care.

The Rat

It all started one recent night when our almost-broken DVD player became the totally-broken DVD player. Aaron and I were watching the next Blue Bloods show that was in Aaron’s rigid schedule for the evening. Aaron kindly paused the program while I went into the kitchen. Something about that pause became the something that pushed our ailing DVD player into its grave. Even Gary, our go-to he-can-fix-everything guy, came but could not fix. And as I watched Aaron’s frustrated reaction, I rightly guessed that he would also be very difficult to fix that night.

I was very correct on that one.

There are times when Aaron handles life’s interruptions of his routine with amazing calm and grace. That night was not one of those times.

I didn’t help, either. When Aaron became more belligerent, I became more frustrated. I don’t do end-of-the-day meltdowns very well, especially as I get older. I finally told Aaron not to be a bully. But I didn’t end there. I also told him not to be a bully brat. I thought it had a nice ring to it, you know.

Aaron did not think it had a nice anything.

Now we not only had to go to bed without finishing our Blue Bloods show, and knowing that the DVD player was dead, but we also had to walk up our stairs for our goodnight routine harboring anger. I could have made amends and gone right to bed with no problem.

Aaron could not.

And so began an age-old bedtime dance that we hadn’t done together in a long time. It basically consisted of Aaron refusing to do what is normally done and insisting on doing what is unacceptable.

His angry comments included:

“I am NOT helping put the oil in the diffuser!”

“I am NOT taking my medicine oil!”

“I am NOT saying goodnight to you!”

“I am NOT going to bed!”

“I am NOT letting you kiss me goodnight!”

“I am NOT a bully brat!”

I stayed as calm and flat as I could be in my reactions as I went about my own bedtime routine. Aaron continued his fuming by going into his room and closing his door, only to open it seconds later. He would stomp up the hall and come into my room, hurling another angry comment at me. One time he closed his door normally, but immediately reopened it so that he could slam it shut the second time. I had to smile at that one.

But I wasn’t smiling at any of the rest, for sure. I was sorry it had come to this…I was very tired…and I was totally aware that Aaron’s outrage could continue for some time. Therefore, I just went to bed, pulling my covers up and acting as if everything was normal. Gary had not come upstairs yet, so I left my door open.

Sure enough, Aaron clomped up the hall again and came into my bedroom. He didn’t even seem to blink as he saw me in bed and so changed his direction, standing on Gary’s side of the bed. He glared down at me under the covers and continued his verbal barrage. Then he was off, slamming his bedroom door before soon reopening it, and repeating the same action again and again. In my bedroom, hovering over the bed as he angrily talked, and off again. I don’t even know how many times this occurred.

Then all of a sudden, the next time Aaron hurried to my room to glower at me, he didn’t. He didn’t hover and glower, but instead he sat on the bed beside me. He started rubbing his hands together and then he said, “Mom, do you know what Nanomites are?”

Really. Nanomites.

And just as seriously as I possibly could, with no hint of surprise or laughter or tiredness, I told him that I did not know what Nanomites are. There we were, in the dim light, talking ever so diligently about Nanomites. We didn’t talk about our anger…our hurt…our frustration with each other…our disappointment in the dead DVD player…or our needed apologies. We talked about Nanomites.

And all was well.

Aaron went back to his bedroom. I stayed in bed, waiting. Soon he was headed back up the hall, but this time he came around to my side of the bed.

“Here Mom,” he said. “I want you to have this.”

A couple days earlier, I had taken Aaron to Dollar Tree. You would have thought I had let him enter heaven for a few minutes. He bounced from aisle to aisle, SO excited by his many finds, but definitely the MOST excited by this big, plastic, long-tailed, red-eyed rat!

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I rolled over in bed that night, and there on my night stand was that long-tailed, red-eyed rat. I knew as sure as ever, then, that things were right with me and Aaron. He had given me what at that moment was most precious to him…his black, plastic rat.

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He laughed and bent over as he rubbed his hands together…a sign of his pure joy. And I thanked him. I thanked him as sincerely as if he had placed a huge vase of roses on my night stand.

Aaron wanted me to come and say goodnight in the way we always do, so I did. Then as I was in my bathroom right after that, I heard Aaron once again walk up the hall. He knocked on the bathroom door, and when I answered he said, “Mom, I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Aaron,” I replied. “I love you.”

“I love you,” he mumbled as he hurried off and back to bed.

I kept that ugly plastic rat on my night stand for a couple days. It reminded me of so much. It was an unusual picture of my relationship not only with Aaron, but also with God.

How many times have I been angry with God over a problem or a situation in my life? Maybe not even full-blown anger but frustrated and not trusting Him totally. How many times have I held onto hurt, or worry, or fear, or whatever else it may be that I want to harbor close to me. Things or people or events that I don’t want to relinquish to God?

All the going back and forth with God doesn’t accomplish a single thing. It’s only when I yield to Him and to His control in my life, tell Him I’m sorry if I need to do so, and then give Him my thing that to me is precious…that I want to keep and coddle…only then will I have true peace. Also, only then will I have open communication and sweet fellowship with God again. Only then will I see what’s on the new path upon which He has set my feet.

Who knew what that silly red-eyed black plastic rat would teach me?

Leave it to Aaron…and to God…to take the bad times and make them full of good.

	Patty hesaidwhatks on Unto The Least
	Cindy Dawson on Unto The Least
	Patty hesaidwhatks on Aaron’s Prayer
	indianeskitchen on Aaron’s Prayer
	herrychiccounsels on Aaron’s Prayer