Fighting for Joseph (Part One: Before)

This is the first of three blog entries that will focus on my almost 9 year old son, Joseph, looking at our journey through his autism diagnosis and how God held our family in His hand as we fought for our son.

Joseph was born on November 2nd, 2000. We had tried to get pregnant for two years before conceiving him, and even though the pregnancy was full of complications, every difficult moment was erased when we held him in our arms for the first time.

Staring into his baby brown eyes, we couldn't help but envision his future. Toads in his pockets, football games, rough-housing with friends, all the way to asking for the keys to the car so he could take his date to the dance. The possibilities were endless and we couldn't wait to experience the ride.

Joseph developed normally. He wasn't born with autism, so he hit every milestone on time. He crawled at 10 months, walked at 13 months, and patted my leg with an affectionate, "Mama," at 14 months. He loved to play peek-a-boo, and anytime we pulled out a camera he became the star of the show. Every ounce of attention we gave him he sucked right in. Because he hardly ever cried, we nicknamed him our "angel baby".

Back then, autism was what Rain Man had. That's all I knew. Amazing toothpick counting and inflectionless words. I didn't need to know about it, because it wasn't ever going to happen to me. My children were Just Fine.

Just Fine ended on September 22nd, 2002.

In a way, my son died on that day. It took me another year to come to terms with the fact that the son I had known was gone. Toads in pockets and football game dreams turned into fantasies about what his voice would sound like and how it would feel if he told me he loved me.

But that's tomorrow's story.

Parading About

I spent a good portion of today doing something that I really wish I didn't do at all: complaining. My verbal ire was especially directed to one particular thing on today's calendar. Being the day before Halloween, it was time for the annual Halloween parade at my son and daughter's school.

Why would I complain about a parade? Well, it's more the hassle of getting there, finding a babysitter or taking the other children, finding a parking spot, finding a chair (or a spot on the wall), and waiting for fifteen minutes just to enjoy approximately 3.2 seconds of seeing each of my children prance by me in costume. To make matters worse, the parade falls right in the middle of nap time, which happens to be the one time during daylight hours when I can get something done.

So I whined. I groaned. I mumbled. Pretty much anyone who was within earshot of me today heard how much I didn't want to go to the parade.

Steve ended up working from home so that I wouldn't have to bring the children. This should have put an end to my sullenness, but it really didn't. I tried to convince him to go instead, but apparently he doesn't think his job would have wanted to hire me for an hour or so that I could replace him.

It was up to me. And so I soldiered on to do my parental duty with all the energy I could muster.

As I entered the gymnasium, I felt very convicted. I opened the book I had brought along to read as I waited, an autobiography by Pastor Greg Laurie. As I read the words, my conviction grew to the point where I felt tears pooling in my eyes.

Who was I to complain about taking a very small portion of my day to devote to something that meant so much to my kids? How God has blessed me through them! Has He not provided everything I ever prayed for in my children? Am I not thankful every day that I am able to be here to love them?

A minute or so before the children came in, the tears started flowing. I'm sure people were wondering why a mother was crying before the parade had even started, but I didn't care. I prayed right then and there for God to forgive me for my poor attitude and my careless words. I thanked Him for the opportunity to be there for Joseph and Kayanna. I praised Him that they both have teachers that care for them, and a school where they are supported and nurtured.

I had myself under control by the time the parade started. I watched eagerly as the children filed by, waiting for a glimpse of my zookeeper and baby. My heart lept as I found them and watched their faces fill with joy at seeing their mom in the crowd.

I kept thinking, "I wanted to miss this?"

When it comes time for the Christmas sing-a-long, there will be no complaints from me.

Roundabout

We recently had a new roundabout constructed in our city. The idea behind it was good: keep the traffic flowing and reduce accidents by removing tricky merges and stoplights. But for a long time it caused problems, and many people (including myself) ended up choosing the wrong exit and heading in the opposite direction.

Why all the trouble? Well, the roundabout itself was built very nicely, but the signs directing traffic were either misleading, not well placed, or missing entirely.

In fact, I just read in the newspaper a day or so ago that a young man, having missed his exit thanks to a missing sign, decided instead to drive across the middle section. His truck had to be towed out. In an effort to correct his path, he'd gotten hopelessly stuck.

Isn't that just like walking in the world? If we attempt to live our lives by putting our faith in what the world has to offer, we're going to have problems. We're going to end up going the wrong direction, or we'll have to go around in circles a few times to reach the right path, or we'll get frustrated and try to forage out on our own...possibly making things worse if we get mired in the mud. Even if we enjoy success, we have to hope that our achievements are repeated the next time we reach one of life's roundabouts.

Today I noticed that the sign issue had been fixed. I entered and exited the roundabout with no problems. In fact, it was so smooth that I finally experienced what the engineers had envisioned when it was designed.

God is the engineer of our lives. His Word is the signposts. By putting our faith in Him, and by reading and keeping His Word in our hearts, we're never going to wonder which way we should turn.

"In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight." (Proverbs 3:6)

Laundry Days

With seven children, every day should be laundry day. Actually, it should probably be an all day, every day event. Especially when said seven children decide to change their clothes two or three times a day.

Saying that I hate doing laundry would be an understatement. I actually detest doing laundry. I'm one of those people who loves mowing the lawn because you can watch as, strip by strip, your job is accomplished. With laundry, I don't ever feel like I get to the point where I can sit down and say, "It's done!"

I've tried many different things in battling this monster. I've tried only saving seven outfits for each child and giving the rest of them away. I've tried laundry marathons where I don't do anything but laundry until the entire mountain is gone. I've tried throwing away the "sock bag" of mismatched socks and just buying new socks that all match each other (sorry, Joseph, that you've had to wear socks with purple heels!).

I've tried everything. And yet, week after week, life gets busy and soon the laundry room resembles Mount St. Helens.

Then in my Bible study yesterday, we read these verses: "And why are you worried about clothing? Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which is alive today and tomorrow is thrown in to the furnace, will He not much more clothe you?" (Matthew 6:28-30)

Now those verses are illustrations as to why we should not worry or be anxious, but today they struck me in a different way.

Why am I whining about the fact that I have so many clothes to wash? Why do I look at the gigantic pile of laundry and stomp back up the steps in defeat?

How many mothers in this world would give everything they own to be able to clothe their children every day? What I see as a drudgery, mothers who struggle through extreme poverty would see as a blessing.

And that is what it is. God has blessed me with the ability to provide clothing for our family. I need to see that for what it is.

Now my laundry isn't just going to disappear. It's going to be something I simply have to do. But instead of dreading the thought of walking downstairs, I'm going to look forward to the opportunity to see an example of God's blessings bursting right in front of my eyes.

My chores won't change, but my heart will.