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Finding Out What We’re Made Of

* I’m still in catching up mode. If you are a loyal follower of this blog, I offer my deepest apologies for not having posted regularly for about 10 weeks. See, about that time, I took on a new adventure of being a full-time substitute for an amazing high school social studies teacher who was on maternity leave. Clearly, some things had to go just to keep up with everything between school, our family, my photography, and my part-time work with our church. There just weren’t enough hours in the day to continue everything, so blog-posting was one that had to go on the back burner. However, I kept writing. It’s one of those things that I find I simply can’t not do. It just happens. So while I wasn’t posting, I was still writing. It’s time now to catch up. Thank you for sticking with me! 🙂 Here’s “Finding Out What We’re Made Of” from July 2, 2015.

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FINDING OUT WHAT WE’RE MADE OF

I often wonder if people get tired of hearing of my “amazing Ben stories” and wish I’d just keep the quips to myself. I think our friends and family understand our excitement and the enormity of some of our musings, but others, well, others may wonder what the big deal is.

The reality is, every moment of everyone’s life is to be celebrated to some extent, but for those on the spectrum, even the little things are big things. Some people with autism can’t talk. That doesn’t mean they don’t communicate. It means we need to work to understand their language. Behavior is communication. Facial expressions can be a language all their own.

Sometimes we have to push through the difficulties, work through the tears and the fears and the “I want to give up”s and work toward the goal. Sometimes the goal is finding a way to communicate needs. Sometimes the goal is being able to stand up and walk or run or jump. Sometimes the goal is to read a book, write your name or do a math problem.

There are plenty of opportunities to quit; lots of chances to give up along the way and say, that’s okay, “I will just read to Ben. I will write his name. I can carry him.” But that doesn’t help him in the long run. It doesn’t help either one of us when he is in school, or when he is too big and I am too weak to carry him. So we push through. We love through the tears and work through the challenges. And eventually we get to the “I Did It, Mommy!”s.

As our Pastor instructed during a recent lesson on staying the course, somewhere between “I want to quit.” and “I’m finished,” we find out what we’re made of.

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1 Comment

  1. rgemom says:

    Love this. It took me a good long while to learn to let Little Man do it for himself, no matter it took five times as long and frequently ended up with both of us in meltdown mode. I wasn’t doing him any favors doing everything for him. But oh when the wins come, they’re even that much more amazing.

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