Autism Spectrum – Page 4

She Took It All

One of Aaron’s favorite things to eat is a Cheddar Pasta Salad from the deli at Dillon’s. The name has actually changed to Cheese Pasta Salad, but to Aaron and to me it’s still Cheddar Pasta Salad. Aaron always gets a large size, watching carefully to see that the container is filled to the brim. We go so often that we’ve gotten to know some of the deli workers, who can always guess what we want when we walk up to the counter.

Yesterday afternoon Aaron asked me if he could have a Cheddar Pasta Salad, so off we went to run an errand before the Chiefs – Titans football game, and then end at the Dillon’s deli. Things were going smoothly, and I was happy that we would make it home in time for the game.

It doesn’t ever seem to matter how carefully I plan our entrance into Dillon’s. Aaron always seems to somehow get ahead of me as we make our way to the deli counter. He is definitely on a mission!

The problem is that he will often push in front of people if there are others standing at the counter. Therefore, he and I are in a foot race as I try to head him off at the draw, before he offends the others who were there before us. Aaron doesn’t care one bit about waiting his turn when it comes to his Cheddar Pasta Salad. He doesn’t notice if people are staring or are angry, if they sigh or if they edge closer to the counter. He only has eyes for the food behind the counter window, looking quickly to see if there is any Cheddar Pasta Salad.

Yesterday there was a mom there with her very cute little girl who was maybe four years old. I made it to the counter just a few steps behind fast Aaron, just in time to touch his arm and remind him that someone was before us in line.

Aaron was very happy to see that there was some Cheddar Pasta Salad in the tray. “Look, Mom,” he said. “They have Cheddar Pasta Salad!”

“That’s what we’re getting, too!” said the friendly mom. “It’s her favorite!” she added as she looked down at her smiling little daughter.

In an instant, I knew that we were in a dilemma.

In an instant, Aaron had figured out that there was NOT enough Cheddar Pasta Salad for both him and the little girl.

And in that instant, Aaron’s face fell.

“Oh boy,” I thought to myself.

The mother was telling me that her little girl just loved the pasta…that she never ate the broccoli…that the mom ate the broccoli…

“There won’t be enough for me!!” Aaron blurted out.

“Yes, Aaron, there will be some for you,” I assured him, while I felt dread creeping up my spine. How far would Aaron go in his disappointment? Would he become angry?

The mother also told Aaron that they weren’t taking all the salad, but Aaron could see that there would not be enough for his large container.

He stared down toward the floor, not making eye contact, as he tried to process the fact that these interlopers were taking HIS Cheddar Pasta Salad!

Their transaction done, the mother told us to have a good day and told Aaron to enjoy his salad.

“Shut up,” Aaron softly replied as he continued looking down at the ground.

I was horrified!!!!

The mother and cute daughter were walking away as I sternly told Aaron to say thank you to them.

He refused.

I told him through firm lips that he would NOT get his salad if he didn’t say thank you.

The girl behind the counter, new to us, was waiting on my order. I fumbled out that we would take the rest of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” Aaron flatly said.

My face was flaming.

The mother and little girl were a short distance from us. The container…the medium size and not the large…was being filled with the last of the Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“THANKS!!!” Aaron suddenly bellowed.

And the mother turned and smiled at us. I wondered if she could see the distress on my face, and on Aaron’s as he processed taking home a medium container.

Not a LARGE!!

Then the mom and her daughter turned and walked right behind us. I touched her arm and whispered to her.

“I don’t know if you heard what he said, but I’m so sorry,” I told her.

She said she didn’t hear anything. I softly told her that Aaron has autism, but I could tell she knew.

“Don’t even worry,” she kindly said. “My older daughter works at Open Doors with autism all the time, so I totally understand.”

Relief washed over me…partly because they hadn’t heard Aaron’s comment and largely because she was so kind.

I thanked her, turned back to Aaron…who was staring dejectedly at his medium container…and then she said to me:

“You’re a very good woman.”

I was so surprised! I thanked her.

And I blinked back tears and swallowed the growing lump in my throat.

I was so happy that now Aaron was holding a jar of Chili Fig Spread, excited about his new find, moving on to the next thing as he always does.

He is so oblivious to other’s emotions. So clueless as to the stress he inadvertently creates.

SO unaware of how embarrassing and wrong it is to tell someone to shut up!

But he did just that.

And he will do it again.

So, we give the lectures and we live the example, but none of that can permanently re-wire his brain.

I picked myself up off the floor, figuratively speaking, as I gathered my wits about me and picked up the pieces of my shattered motherly pride.

Yes, my son is the one who told you to shut up.

But this is our life with Aaron.

Aaron, who wants life to fall into place his way and when it doesn’t, is hardly able to do anything but to tell the offender to shut up.

But he DID say thanks!! I’m so thankful for that!!

I DID give him his Cheddar Pasta Salad. Look at his sad face, though.

His medium…not large…Cheddar Pasta Salad.

“She took it all,” he said over and over as we walked through Dillon’s.

“She did NOT take it all!” I reminded him over and over.

We actually got a lot in return at that deli counter.

A large serving of kindness goes a long way!

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.

IMG_1900 (002)

“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!!!

Hanging Off – Or On?

Aaron has a way of repeating what we say but changing just one word or even just one letter, and so making us laugh or pause in thought. He has a uniquely Aaron way of expressing himself.

That is, after all, the reason I started this blog and the reason I named it He Said What?!

For instance, yesterday we had some rough weather move through our neck of these Kansas woods. Aaron was concerned, asking about the storms and wondering if he should turn off his computer.

I’ve often shown him the radar and pointed out some storms headed in our direction. I sometimes refer to them as a clump of storms coming our way.

So, as he followed me around the house and fretted over his computer being hit by lightning, he said, “Mom! Is that lump of storms going to hit us?!”

Two words, so similar, yet somehow the difference was enough to make me laugh.

Aaron has become a fan of the television show Chicago Fire. In December the fall finale had the typical…and very unrealistic…cliffhanger. Aaron has talked and talked and talked and talked about those canisters in that basement, surrounded by fire, and whether they would blow up or not!!!

I told him that this was a cliffhanger. Aaron, who is very literal, saw no cliff in that fall finale. He also saw no one hanging from a cliff in that basement.

I therefore…and not for the first time…explained that a cliffhanger is when the show’s producers leave you hanging on after the last show of the season in order to make you come back and watch the first show of the new season.

Hanging ON.

But here is Aaron’s take:

“MOM!! I can’t wait till January 8^th!!

Then he waits for me to ask why he can’t wait till January 8^th.

“Because that’s when Chicago Fire comes back on!!”

Then he waits for me to show excitement. I am a good actress.

“Remember how they left us hanging OFF??!!”

Then I laugh. He thinks my laughter is an expression of my excitement over Chicago Fire resuming.

But my laughter is really about the way he changed my original phrase.

Are we hanging ON…or hanging OFF?

His change-up of that one little word has had me pondering over the past few days.

Hanging OFF a cliff is a scary situation, to put it mildly.

Hanging ON, to me, conveys hope.

In life, when I am hanging off a cliff of fear or dread or disappointment…or any number of other scenarios…I must remind myself to hang ON.

I hang ON to God and to the hope that He gives me.

How often our life with Aaron changes! We can so quickly go from enjoying life:

To the suddenness of seizures:

The above picture was right after Aaron’s third seizure on Christmas Eve, just as we were getting ready to play Christmas Bingo as we Skyped with Kyle and Andrea from Houston.

It’s a stretch for Aaron to want to play games. My first heart reaction was to wonder why. Why must he have a seizure when he was actually willing to sit with us and play a game?

Sometimes his seizures keep him from participating in something that he really wanted to do. That makes me sad for him. Disappointed.

He did arouse enough to play Bingo, but I played his card because he was uncoordinated and shaky…and grouchy, which is typical when he plays Bingo.

Every day…every situation…can be a cliffhanger with Aaron. Will we have seizures to manage? Behaviors to handle?

I do feel like I’m sometimes hanging off a cliff, holding on for dear life, afraid of what’s next and afraid of falling…of failing.

But then I must remind myself that I’m not alone. I know and trust God.

And I hold ON to Him.

I don’t understand everything.

I don’t even like everything.

But I love God, and I know He loves me.

So whatever cliff it is, I do know that I’m not just hanging off.

I reach up and I hang ON to God.

He lifts me up and He rescues me…not from the situation, necessarily…but from the danger of despair and hopelessness that can so easily overwhelm me.

After all, look at what God says about Himself in Psalm 91:15:

“He will call upon Me, and I will answer him;

I will be with him in trouble;

I will rescue him and honor him.”

May I remember, every day and in every cliffhanger, that I don’t need to just hang off.

I can hang ON…to the God Who rescues me.

Ever Long

Patience is a virtue, so someone said, but I can tell you that it is not a virtue that Aaron typically possesses.

On an average weekday morning, when Aaron is waking up to the smell of his coffee that I bring to his room, he is also waking up to the reality that he will soon be going to his day group, Paradigm. Hope springs eternal, though, that he can stay home. It’s not that he doesn’t like Paradigm. It’s just that he likes being home more.

I fully expect each morning to be the same and am surprised if it isn’t.

Mom, I have a headache.

Mom, my stomach hurts.

Mom, I didn’t sleep much.

Mom, mom, mom…followed by various stay-at-home excuses.

I leave him to his coffee and his conniving as I go about my own getting-ready morning routine…a routine that Aaron knows all too well.

Eventually, almost always, Aaron comes around and decides on his own to go to Paradigm. The problem is that when Aaron decides to go, he wants to go now.

Like, NOW now.

If Aaron walks into the bathroom while I’m drying my hair, he knows that after drying of the hair comes fixing of the hair.

After fixing of the hair, comes applying of the make-up.

Applying of the make-up may be short…meaning only a dusting of powder and a swipe of blush…and mom is good to go.

But sometimes, after the powder dusting and blush swiping, Mom moves to the dreaded eye make-up.

Eye make-up takes way too long in Aaron’s book on a morning when he has resigned himself to his Paradigm fate. He wants eye make-up to go away…to not be applied. He knows that if Mom moves to her desk in the other bedroom, where she seems to like that light from the window, then her eye make-up is really going to happen.

And now is not NOW!!

NOW must wait.

Waiting requires patience…that virtue that Aaron rarely possesses.

One recent morning, as Aaron hovered behind me in my bathroom watching me in phase one of my getting-ready routine…drying of the hair…he decided to broach the dreaded subject of my make-up amount.

“Mom,” he began, “so when you DO put on make-up, are you going to do it ever long?!”

He sounded positively Shakespearean!! 🙂

On many mornings, however, his impatience with my make-up routine can make him very angry. It’s not that he has a thing against make-up. It’s that he has a thing against waiting.

Just like I often begin my days with Aaron’s lack of patience, I also often end my days with that same impatience brewing in Aaron’s mind. This time his testy attitude surrounds the fact that he knows we will watch a show just before bed. We are working our way now through the series “Dr. Quinn: Medicine Woman.”

Last night, being New Year’s Eve, Aaron thought a great way to celebrate would be to watch TWO episodes. He came downstairs at 7:30 to find that I was watching an end-of-year special that I had no idea I would watch and that I had not run by him for his approval.

This was not good. Not good for me or for Aaron.

He let me know that he wanted to watch Dr. Quinn now.

Like, NOW now.

I told him no.

I told him that we would watch Dr. Quinn at 8:00.

Waiting for 8:00 was ever long for Aaron. And he let me know, as he went up the stairs to his room and down the stairs to the family room…over and over and over…that 8:00 was unacceptable.

I stuck to my guns, but not without facing Aaron’s wrath.

In fact, I finally marched to my bedroom…got my purse…put on my coat…and told Gary that I was going out for a drive, in order to clear my head.

Aaron just watched, not saying a word. I do believe he was scared. While I was gone, he stayed in Gary’s study. Gary was a captive audience with his leg all bandaged and propped up from his recent foot surgery.

I talked to God while I drove. I told him that I feel a little blank anymore, wondering what He wants to show me or teach me in this life I live. I told God that I want to be patient with Aaron, and that when I’m not, I don’t want to sin in my impatience and anger.

That’s the tough part…not sinning when I am also the one not exercising that virtue of patience.

While I was out driving, I saw a section of beautiful lights still on full display in a neighborhood. I went home, got Aaron, and together we drove through the pretty lights.

No lecture. No mention of his anger.

Just enjoying the bright beauty around us.

It was calming to us both.

And it was surprising to Aaron, I could tell.

Surprising to him that I wanted to simply show him something pretty…something that he loves…when he had just been so mean to me.

Aaron needs to learn to wait. It’s hard on both of us as I continue to try to teach him that virtue.

I read this morning some of my old notes from my Genesis Bible study I recently completed. In talking about how Abraham had to wait on God to give him a son, Joyce Baldwin said this:

“God’s delays are not God’s denials.”

A delay doesn’t mean no.

To prove His promise to Abraham of a son to come, God had Abraham look up into the heavens. God told Abraham to count the stars…the bright shining stars. He told Abraham that so would be his descendants, innumerable like the stars up above.

But the promise wouldn’t happen now.

Like NOW, now.

But Abraham, while watching others have sons and grandsons, had to wait on God to fulfill His promise in a most unlikely way and time.

Abraham had to believe God…had to trust God…and it was counted to him as righteousness.

God did fulfill His promise to Abraham, in His own time. Not in Abraham’s preferred time.

And this is where and how Abraham grew in his faith. As Baldwin says, “Faith rests on the fact that God is faithful, and when we take God at His word, we prove for ourselves His faithfulness.”

Aaron needs to learn to trust me and to be patient when he must wait on something.

I need to learn to trust God and to be patient when I must wait on Him as well.

Waiting on Him to show me what I need to learn…to give me grace for life with Aaron…to not compare myself to others…and a myriad of other reasons and ways that I must wait on God.

Bright lights calmed me and Aaron.

Bright stars calmed and settled Abraham in his faith.

Because God is faithful, I can have faith. Faith in God even during the hard times.

Faith to wait, even when fast answers don’t come.

Aaron and I did watch two Dr. Quinn episodes. It took ever long, but we did.

I kept my promise…and so does God.

1852-lec6-1536x865

I Love This Place!

For the past few weeks I’ve felt like I live in a snow globe. I’m a figure that’s not fastened down, so when the globe is shaken I just fly all around with the snow. Crazy, to say the least!

Gary and I knew that this was going to happen:

Thankfully his foot surgery was planned and on our calendars many weeks ago. We had time to prepare, even throwing in some minor things like having two bedrooms remodeled. You know how that is. Emptying the rooms of everything; deciding on what supplies to purchase; purchasing supplies; going through drawers and shelves and making multiple donation trips to Goodwill; the remodel itself (great job, Distinctive Designs!!); cleaning; putting everything back in the rooms; and heavy furniture up the stairs or down the stairs (thank you to our son, Andrew, home for Thanksgiving!).

Then there was decorating and preparing for Christmas with all the shopping and wrapping and mailing and cards and cooking yet to do.

Oh, and let’s throw in cleaning our big storage room two days before surgery! Why not??!!

In the midst of it all, there is Aaron. Aaron…trying so hard to maintain his normal.

Aaron’s normal is very vital to him. His normal is as vital to him as breathing or eating. Normal gives him stability and predictability, which he needs to maintain his balance.

Gary and I can roll with the flow, stressful as that flow may sometimes be. Aaron…not so much. When his normal flow of life is redirected…shaken like the snow globe…Aaron most often will react instead of handling the change. Then whatever is causing his life change, as he sees it, becomes the enemy.

The enemy may be an event. That’s why holidays, parties, trips, or other out-of-the-norm happenings can rock his world. Aaron’s world is what he makes it. His world is set and settled in his brain, everything in its place. His days flow with an established pattern. Can we all spell “ROUTINE?!”

The enemy may also be a person. Any person who disrupts his pattern of life or his way of doing life becomes a huge problem to him. Just ask his siblings about our Christmas family time every year. We all know to expect at least one “Christmas Meltdown” every year. The meltdown often involves some aspect of our family Christmas Eve Bingo game, which combines a party atmosphere with a lot of crazy thrown in from the annoying people who are on his turf and messing up his routine.

Autism at it’s finest, let me tell you!

When Gary and I arrived home the day of his surgery, Aaron was so very happy to see us. I saw him scan over Gary’s huge wrapping with his ever-observant eyes, but Aaron never asked how the surgery went or how Gary was feeling.

Instead, Aaron talked up a storm as we got Gary settled in bed. He ran up to his bedroom, returning with a soft blanket of his that he wanted Gary to use. He ran outside in the dark and brought in our trashcans that were at the end of the driveway. He kept looking for ways to help and was just SO happy to have us home. I’m not sure how much of that happiness rested on the fact that his dad was all right or on the fact that we were home, at last, and now life could be back to normal.

Normal! Right?!

Wrong.

Dad was in the guest bedroom. Mom had to make trips down to Dillon’s for meds and food that sounded good to Dad and drinks to settle his stomach. Dad wasn’t talking much and Mom was distracted. People were calling. Or coming to the house.

The morning after surgery, Aaron was getting edgy. We knew it. And Gary, bless his heart…in the shape he was in…managed to ask Aaron about his game he was playing. Aaron was off and running then! Talk, talk, talk!! Talk about what he loved and what he understood and what mattered to him.

Honestly, Dad’s foot and leg all propped up on the living room couch didn’t matter to Aaron at that point. How Dad slept didn’t matter. Dad’s possible pain didn’t matter.

It seems heartless to us, but we know Aaron. We know how autism is often defined by a narcissistic way of viewing the world.

We had some storms that first week. It got rough. My reactions weren’t always kind and loving toward Aaron.

Then after the snow would settle in our upside-down snow globe world, Aaron would look at us and immediately launch into talk of aliens and outer space and his latest movie and anything…ANYTHING…but real life and feelings and concern for us. Then his anger would erupt if he sensed our lack of interest in what he was saying.

Just so exhausting.

One night after going around and around, Aaron regrouped quickly and stood by Gary in the living room talking about what show he was watching or game he was playing. This was Aaron’s happy place with his captive audience.

This past week, our second week post-surgery, Aaron came down with the crud bug. Fever, cough, sore throat, aching all over. A doctor visit, some meds, and he is better. But again, a sick Aaron was a touchy Aaron.

Until he thought of Christmas lights.

“Mom?” he asked on evening. “Can we go look at the lights on the big white house?”

It wasn’t necessarily what I had time or interest in at that moment, but I saw the hope on his face and so off we went. We saw the lights and then drove on to look at some other lights close by in several neighborhoods.

A couple nights later, after our neighbor mentioned a near neighborhood that was all decked out in lights, Aaron and I went out again. House after house was glowing and flashing and bright and fun. Aaron was mesmerized, leaning forward in his seat and very still, with a smile on his face.

“I LOVE this place!!” he finally exclaimed.

It warmed my heart so much for him to express such joy.

It warmed my heart to be the one who showed him this place he loved.

I’ll admit that sometimes I don’t love this place where God has us. Life with Aaron can be very tiring. He requires or demands things from us that we at times have no energy or interest in giving.

This place isn’t always bright and pretty and rewarding and fun. Sometimes we wonder why we’re here and what we’re doing.

But this place is where God has put us.

Aaron is God’s gift to us.

Sometimes we don’t feel that sentiment. Gary and I get weary…lonely…at the end of ourselves.

I’m sure the man Jesus…God’s Son…felt all that and more, thousands of times over, as He walked this sad earth.

And because Jesus walked with us, He also understands our weaknesses and our human thoughts. He is here with us to give us His grace and enable us to do the same with Aaron.

Aaron may not always love this place, either. When his life is askew and he is miserable, loving this place is the last thing on his mind.

But may he know, when the snow is settled and the storm is over, that HE is loved.

Loved by God, as are we…and loved by his parents.

May this place, where we are at the moment, be a place of love when all is said and done.

And may your place, dear one…hard as it may be…be a place filled with God’s love for you and through you.

Bright like the lights of this beautiful season!

Did Someone Say, “Time CHANGE?!”

I am 99.9% certain that whoever thought up all this time change business did not have a child living with them who had autism. Specifically, a child with autism who has as one of their obsessions the desire for living life with precision timing.

Such is our Aaron.

Aaron wears a watch every day of his life. If his watch breaks, time for him stands still…and time for us is nearly unbearable until the broken watch can be replaced. Trust me, we take as little time as possible in finding him a new watch. It must be a specific watch, one with numbers all around…a second hand…and the day and date feature.

Heaven help us when the day and date feature needs to be adjusted! Aaron doesn’t have time to wait for that, either, and when I mess it up…which I so often do…then the world is off balance for Aaron until Dad is able to come to the rescue.

Many of you have heard lots of stories about Aaron’s precision with time. For instance, on the weekends Aaron wants to eat lunch at 12:00 noon. This often happens:

Me: Aaron, do you want to eat lunch?

Aaron: Yes.

Me: What do you want to eat?

Aaron: Can I have pizza?

Me: Sure. I’ll fix it now.

Aaron: I want to eat at 12:00.

Me: Well, it’s almost 12:00.

Aaron (pushing his sleeve up to look at his watch which is worn halfway up his arm): No, Mom! It’s 11:56!!

I sigh, exercising my lungs as I so often do with Aaron, and make sure we wait until 12:00 on the dot to start the lunch process.

Here’s another familiar scene:

Aaron: Mom, I woke up at 7:58.

Me: So, you woke up around 8:00?

Aaron (looking at me as if I had three eyes but no brain): No! I woke up at 7:58!

I began preparing Aaron for the dreaded time change on Saturday afternoon. When we finished watching our DVD before bed, he glanced up at the clock in the family room.

“Mom,” he began. “It’s 10:47, but it’s really 9:47, right?”

I assured him he was correct as he followed me into the kitchen. He carefully watched me change the stove clock, the microwave clock, and the coffee pot clock. Things were progressing smoothly.

Little did I know.

The bedtime routine was moving along normally when Aaron sat on his bed to write the time in his logbook. This logbook in which Aaron records…precisely records…his time to bed and his time to get up. Every. Single. Day.

IMG_1442(Edited)

Aaron stared at his complex weather station clock beside his bed…the one that needs a person with an engineering AND rocket science degree to change the time.

“MOM!!!! My clock says 11:02, but it should say 10:02!!!”

WHY DIDN’T I REMEMBER AARON’S CLOCK?????!!!!!

But outwardly I was the picture of calmness. I told Aaron that I really thought it would set automatically by satellite. Aaron sat on his bed with his logbook open, very still, staring at the clock as if he could will it to change. I stood beside the bed, staring at Aaron as if I could will him to change.

Silly Mom.

He scooted off the bed and headed for the door.

“I’m getting Dad!” he informed me as he left his room.

Thump, thump, thump down one set of stairs.

Thump, thump, thump down the second set of stairs.

Soon I heard Aaron pounding up both sets of stairs. Seriously, he takes stairs like a bull elephant.

And there followed Gary, much slower than Aaron, who was full of purpose.

“Dad, can you set my clock?!” he asked anxiously.

Gary set the clock, Aaron sat once again on his bed with his logbook open, and I stood there waiting hopefully for the time to be entered, precisely.

Aaron stared at his weather station clock. Then he pushed his sleeve up and looked at his watch. He stared again at the blue numbers on his very difficult weather station clock.

“MOM!!!! It says 12:10!!!! It should be 10:10!!!!!”

Oh. My. Word.

Dear Gary, in his tiredness, had set the clock AHEAD an hour. Instead of falling back, we had gone full speed AHEAD…and Aaron was full speed DONE with this crazy time change!!

SO WAS I!!!!!!!!

“Aaron,” I kindly said (despite how UNKIND I felt), “can’t you just lay down, close your eyes, and go to sleep?”

It would have made more sense to tell him to climb Mt. Kilimanjaro…barefoot…in the dark…with no guides…and no supplies.

I wonder what time it was in Tanzania?

Aaron informed me that he could do none of those things. Lay down, close his eyes, or go to sleep.

“Aaron,” I continued (my lips drawn tighter than they had been), “can’t you just wear your watch to bed?”

With that, Aaron once again pushed his sleeve way up his arm and stared down at his watch.

“MOM!!!!” he said, “we need to change the time on my watch!!!”

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Anyway, I prohibited Aaron from going back to get Gary. I changed the dumb time on his watch. I then sat down on his bed, praying as I started pushing buttons, and somehow someway I was able to change the stupid time from 12:10 to 10:10.

Can you tell I was done? I needed a time out!!!

Oh, but we weren’t done!

Aaron was, once again, sitting on his bed while staring at his ridiculous weather station clock. Whose idea was it to get him this clock anyway??!!

All the bases had to have been finally covered, I thought. Aaron’s just waiting for the minute to change, as he usually does, before he will write down the time.

The EXACT time, for crying out loud!!!

“MOM!!!!” he nearly yelled, “it’s FLASHING!!!!!”

“WHAT????!!!!” I nearly yelled in disbelief. “What’s FLASHING????!!!!”

And sure enough, under the very current and precise time, there was flashing the words, “NO WI-FI.”

“It says, no wifey,” Aaron told me.

“You’re about to hear, no mother,” I wanted to say, but didn’t.

“Here, Aaron,” I said now through almost gritted teeth, “you can just turn your weather station clock around like this and then go to sleep.”

But I may as well have told him to climb….

You get it.

No, Aaron could NOT just simply turn the clock around like this or just go to sleep like that. Not with “NO WIFEY” flashing under the very perfect and totally precise time!!!!

I guess Aaron was spent…or knew that I was…because he finally got under his covers and let me escape to my room.

But soon I heard him thump, thump, thumping downstairs…where he told Gary about the flashing “NO WIFEY.”

Then came the thump, thump, thumping upstairs…and the elephant stomps to my closed bedroom door.

“Mom?” he said. “I’m tired of this day.”

“I know, Aaron,” I told him. “I am, too.”

Never were truer words spoken!!

He walked back to his bed.

He was soon back at my door.

“Mom? Do you think I should just wear my watch to bed?”

“I think that would be a good idea,” I replied (hopefully!).

Again, he was under his covers.

“MOM!!!!” I heard from the monitor in our room, “it quit flashing!!!”

Thank you, Lord!!! I really did thank the Lord!

But if you ask me, it’s high time to change the time change!!

At least it is in OUR house!! WHEW!!

clock2

Keeping Everything in A Row

Aaron was busily preparing his little corner of the world one recent night as we got ready to watch an episode of Dr. Quinn. His typical preparations include his snack or snacks of choice, often placed in a bowl; his drink; his hand towel that is always with him; his blanket that is always over him as if he is a nursing home resident; his Nintendo DS beside him even if not played; his video remote; and his chair and ottoman placed just so.

It’s exhausting, unless you’re Aaron. If you’re Aaron, this is standard procedure and no big deal.

On this particular night, Aaron had chosen his rather new bag of Jolly Ranchers to sit on the end table beside him…the end table that bears the scars of being placed right beside Aaron.

“MOM!!” Aaron excitedly said before he sat down. “Here! I want you to have these!”

He handed me way-too-many Jolly Ranchers, his face full of delight because he loves to share. I hadn’t planned to eat Jolly Ranchers, but I wouldn’t disappoint his giving spirit for the world, so I cupped my hands and took his sweet gift.

He was getting situated under his blanket when he remembered something.

“Wait!!” he exclaimed. “I need to get my trash can!”

Having lived with Aaron for so long, I didn’t need to ask what he was doing. There are times that Aaron will use his trash can…and ONLY his trash can…for certain jobs. For instance, every Christmas Aaron must have his trash can with him for whatever he deems it must hold, despite the large trash bags that the rest of us use.

WP_20171228_13_34_35_Pro

For whatever reason is in his mind, he knows when his trash can is the one that is needed for certain trash, and obviously our Jolly Rancher wrappers fit that mold on that night.

Soon we were watching Dr. Quinn, relishing our candy as we happily tossed our wrappers in the correct trash can perched between us…and all was right in Aaron’s world.

Like the Bible verse that says there is a way that seems right to a man, there is most assuredly a way that seems right to Aaron…and he will not veer from it, if at all possible. Pity you if you try to make him do so!

Yesterday, Aaron and I piled in the van for our ride to his day group. Aaron loves listening to music and as we are still in dinosaur mode, we use CDs. Aaron looks at each song’s number as he picks up the CD and checks the back for the song number and name. He rubs his hands together with great enjoyment, laughs, and listens very carefully to each song.

Aaron often sings one phrase from the last song he has heard on his rides. He will sing that phrase over and over, usually at home, while he is on his computer. Never will I forget the time that we stopped to shop at Wal-Mart. The last song he had heard was Shania Twain’s “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!” It was very interesting hearing Aaron walk through Wal-Mart and in his monotone voice saying more than singing…over and over – “Man! I Feel Like a Woman!”

The word “interesting” really doesn’t do it justice. Though I’m sure that he and I were VERY interesting to more than one person on that trip.

Anyway, Aaron had chosen to listen to Brad Paisley. We have several Brad Paisley CDs. Something else that Aaron will do is listen to CDs by the same artist in order of their production date, written in microscopic print on the back of each CD. Print that is seen only by Aaron. We cannot listen out of order. Nope.

We jumped in the van, with Aaron immediately reaching down to find the first CD in order, of course. And of course, he knows that the first Brad Paisley CD in the correct order carries the date of 2003. And the 2003 CD was not in the van.

We were still in the driveway, both of us looking for the 2003 CD, even getting out of the van to check behind our seats. I ended up running back into the house and finding three CDs in the cabinet that he had missed.

“YES!!” he said, “there’s the 2003!!”

His joy was contagious as we drove down the road, his hands rubbing together quickly and his laugh filling the van. What a difference it makes when Aaron can have things this seemingly unimportant set right in his world!

Last night, Aaron sat in his chair in his usual fashion as we watched TV. I noticed that he was pulling loose threads from his ever-present hand towel and rolling the threads up into little balls. Later, as we were on our way upstairs for bed, this is what I saw on the end table.

I just smiled and shook my head. How like Aaron and his life are these little thread balls, all rolled up and placed in a precise order according to Aaron’s plan!

And how important I felt it was for me to just leave them there. I could have told Aaron to come back down and clean up his mess! But this really isn’t a mess. This is Aaron’s order, done Aaron’s way.

It’s really a beautiful picture of Aaron’s mind.

And a reminder to me that there are many times when I must understand Aaron’s way of living…a way unlike my own but of no less value. Not try to brush it off as unimportant or messy or inconvenient, but to remember that Aaron is far happier if he is allowed to keep not only his ducks in a row, but also his CDs and his trash can and his candy…

And his thread balls!

Of course!

Of No Use?

Our neighbors across the street from us had a yard sale a couple weeks ago. Aaron loves yard sales! He REALLY loved the fact that there was a yard sale right across the street! He asked if we could go over and check it out to see if there was something he could buy. I agreed, knowing that he would end up over there anyway talking to Derek and Gina until I came to the rescue and escorted him home.

Before we left, I remembered that in my wallet was an envelope that held Aaron’s remaining Christmas gift money. I was always forgetting it was there! I looked inside and pulled out the cash. Aaron had $5.00 to spend, and he was happy.

It didn’t take Aaron long to spy exactly what he wanted. A lava lamp!! Aaron LOVES lava lamps and has been through several over the years. He has a glitter lava lamp in his room now, but this was a good old normal lava lamp. Aaron knew he had found his yard sale prize!

We looked at the sticker and guess what? It was priced at $5.00! Could it be any more perfect? We crossed the street with the “new to Aaron” lava lamp, carried it up to his room, placed it on his already crowded nightstand, plugged it in, and went about our day.

Aaron was waiting, though, for the level gunk in the lamp to begin bubbling. As he went about the remainder of the day and evening, he kept glancing at his lit lava lamp. There was no motion, however. The gunk was still.

“Mom!” Aaron finally said. “Do you think I bought something that is of no use?!”

I turned my head away so I could smile at his phrasing. He’s just so funny sometimes…so precise.

“No, not at all,” I responded. “The lamp just takes some time to heat up the goo inside.”

Gary got home and Aaron happily showed him his new lava lamp…his still not-moving lava lamp. Supper came and went, as did evening chores and Wheel of Fortune and watching our DVD show just before bed.

As Aaron got into his bed, he sighed with exasperation as he looked at his boring lit but not bubbling lava lamp.

“I think I bought something that is of no use!” he sadly repeated as he pulled his covers up. I was beginning to wonder myself if the lamp would work even as I told Aaron that it just needed more time.

No one was happier than me to walk in Aaron’s room the next morning, his coffee in hand, and see the lava lamp bubbling in all its globby glory!! YAY!!! Yay for Aaron…yay for me…and a special yay for Derek and Gina, whom I was afraid would have certainly heard all about the lava lamp that was of no use!!

Aaron was happy, happy! And every day since then, when he returns from his day group, he plugs in the lava lamp, totally enjoying the goopy bubbles in all their various shapes and sizes!

Last night, Aaron went to bed talking about how he was going out to eat lunch the next day with a group from Paradigm – his day group. There is nothing Aaron loves any more than eating out. So, this morning I wasn’t too surprised to hear him stirring early. How early? Aaron keeps a logbook like this:

IMG_1442(Edited)

This morning’s time was:

IMG_1443 (2)

He had so much to look forward to today! He was ready to get this show on the road! He supervised me as I poured his coffee and carried it to his room, then told me he would shower and dress. I went back to my quiet time desk, but it wasn’t quiet for long.

Aaron was soon standing behind my chair, his shower completed and his impatience growing.

“Mom,” he ordered. “Take your shower and put your make-up on so it will become 9:00!”

I soon realized that Aaron’s hurried mood wasn’t going to improve until he saw me making some headway concerning my shower and make-up. But I also realized that Aaron’s eyes were very droopy, and his mood was changing even further from excitement to not feeling so well. He told me his head hurt, his stomach hurt, and that he felt like he was having a dream. We’ve learned that this often means a seizure is coming. Aaron was ready to go back to bed, and sure enough I soon heard on the baby monitor the unmistakable sound of a seizure.

I never like Aaron’s seizures, of course, but I especially detest them when they keep him from doing something that he’s looking forward to so much. No eating lunch out today for Aaron, I thought. Bless his heart!

And my heart? My mama heart takes a beating every time I watch Aaron going through this hard part of his life. He handles all this much better than I do, thankfully. But as I looked down at Aaron when I checked on him later, look what was in the background.

The lava lamp. Aaron’s lava lamp, that he worried was of no use, was performing perfectly there beside Aaron in his bed.

And it hit me. How easy it would be for me to wonder about all the why’s of Aaron’s seizures and autism…to even feel like it was all sadness and of no use. But never, never have I felt such hopeless thoughts. Even in the changed path of Aaron’s life…changed from what we thought our firstborn son’s life would be…there is the sure hope that only God can give.

You see, knowing and following Christ gives to me and to Gary and to Aaron the same hope that God gave to Jeremiah to share with the Jewish nation centuries ago.

“I know the plans I have for you,” declared the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you a hope and a future.” (Jeremiah 29:11)

I can claim that promise for us and for Aaron today because we know that God! We know that He has told us in Romans 8:28 that “ALL things work together for good to those that love God, who are the called according to His purpose.”

God doesn’t plan to hurt us! He plans to work for our good in order to conform us to Christ! We have a hope in Him and a future beyond anything we can imagine!

So you see, all the tough times and the sadness and the unanswered questions we may have do NOT mean that this life is of no use. Absolutely not!! This life is working perfectly, just how God intended, and in that knowledge – in God Himself – I can trust, and I can rest.

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.

Smooth Gliding

Aaron had a seizure shortly after 4:00 this morning, so I kept him home from his day group today. One seizure not only makes him feel bad when he gets up and about, but one seizure can also mean more seizures to come…especially drop seizures that are so dangerous.

As I went sleepily up the hall this morning to be with him, I was mentally trying to remember what my day held that would need to be changed. Fortunately, today was just errand day for me…nothing critical that had to be rearranged, like a doctor appointment for me or for Aaron.

Still, the point is driven home yet again that I am always on call when it comes to living with Aaron. Any caregiver knows what I mean. It’s very difficult if not impossible to commit myself to activities that would demand my presence, like a job or even some volunteer positions. And that’s OK for me, thankfully. God has blessed me with the privilege of being able to stay at home with Aaron.

Sometimes that blessing, though, can turn into a struggle for me. Aaron isn’t always easy to care for. Oh, I can handle seizures and wet bedding and interrupted schedules and doctor appointments and all the rest that goes along with life…life with Aaron.

It’s his behaviors, at times, that wear me and Gary down. Aaron’s ups and downs due to his autism can be exhausting and so very frustrating. Then when I erupt, along comes the guilt and the “I’m so done!” attitude. My own ups and downs are personally exhausting to me on so many levels.

So today, in an odd kind of sad way, has been a reprieve for both me and Aaron. He is far happier when he has no place to go…no schedule to keep…no expectations. And happy Aaron equals happy Mom – though my heart is always sad to see his seizures and the toll they take.

One toll is that Aaron often loses his taste, as he says, after seizures…and today was no different. Nothing interested him for lunch until I mentioned cream of chicken soup. He slurped happily while watching a bit of the old Incredible Hulk television series, leaning back occasionally to hold his head.

Later, I sat down beside him and asked this magic question:

“Aaron, would you like to go get a milkshake?”

How Aaron loves milkshakes!

“Yeah!!” he answered as his eyes lit up. “And can it be a hot fudge?”

I agreed to hot fudge, and Aaron was happy and very ready to go.

When I later told him it was time to leave, he came to my closed bathroom door with his report.

“Mom,” he said. “I have on my shoes and my glasses and my watch.”

Bless his heart. Preparation details for these excursions are very important, even if Sonic is only one mile down the road.

When we got home, Aaron sat on our porch glider with his yummy hot fudge milkshake while I watered the porch plants and swept away some unwanted spider webs. Then I settled in beside him.

It’s a beautiful day today, and our time on the front porch and out in the yard later was so sweet. We examined the veins of the flower petals he pulled off my orange geranium. We talked about the dragonfly that landed near us…about the squawking blue jay we heard…about mosquitoes that drink our blood…about the squirrels that steal all our pecans…about the bag worms that haven’t built any web nests this year…about the bush that needs pruning yet again…and about the molted remains of Cicadas he found.

We examined mushrooms in the back yard…small, medium, and large.

And watched honeybees in the Rose of Sharon blooms, laughing at their legs all fuzzy with pollen as they flew around from bloom to bloom.

We also rocked in our front porch glider. Well, we attempted to rock. That’s because rocking with Aaron in the glider is either smooth and fun or is more often a lesson in frustration.

You see, Aaron has a hard time keeping a joint motion going as we try to rock. I go forward and Aaron is going backward. Or he keeps his feet locked on the ground, stopping the motion altogether. When he does master the idea of rocking simultaneously, he goes too fast and furious.

Smooth gliding with Aaron for any length of time is nearly impossible because he doesn’t cooperate. He’s not trying to be difficult. He just doesn’t have the motor skills to master the art of joint gliding, so we end up with an awkward mess most of the time. It takes time and patience on my part to hang in there with him and make it work, at least part of the time. It’s often best to just stop for a few seconds, and then try again.

In my walk with God, I’m often like Aaron on the glider. I don’t want to be. I don’t mean to be. But oh, sometimes I am so out of sync with God and with who and what I know Him to be. This is true especially in relation to our life with Aaron.

Over the years, God has worked and worked on me to show me that His ways are best, always. Not easy, but best. This path upon which God has set me is of His choosing.

But you know, I get tired. I find myself saying more and more that I’m done…just done. Yet that’s when God, if I get still and listen…like when I read His Word to me and I pray it back to Him…says to me that He understands. He knows tired and He knows being done.

What I need to know is that He is God. I just need to be still…to quit striving…and to know that He is God (Psalm 46:10). Sometimes God just needs us to stop the rocking, rest a spell, and then pick it up again.

And I need to let Him do the leading. It’s a mess when I take over.

I do that by trusting Him, obeying Him, confessing my failures, and looking at Aaron as a gift of God in our lives.

God doesn’t expect perfection from me, but He does expect cooperation if I want to live in peace and joy. Peace doesn’t come by my surroundings being what I want them to be. Peace comes to me despite my surroundings so often being an awkward and frustrating mess.

“Just be still now,” God says. “Quit trying to be the lead as we’re on this glider of life. I’m right here beside you. Let Me lead and you follow.”

“Lead me in Your truth and teach me, For You are the God of my salvation; for You I wait all the day.” (Psalm 25:5)

	Patty hesaidwhatks on A Shining Light Among The…
	Patty hesaidwhatks on A Shining Light Among The…
	R Meadow Highlights… on A Shining Light Among The…
	Dawn on A Shining Light Among The…
	Patty hesaidwhatks on A Shining Light Among The…