The Gift of the Poop

I earn a living blogging.  Not here, at my other site.  And today, I had technical difficulties.  Technical difficulties mean people are not clicking on my links and I am not making money.  It means that folks who stop over for the first time to visit my blog and possibly subscribe aren't even able to see it.  So instead of folding clothes or helping with homework, tonight I am on the phone with tech dude.  Tech dude tells me my server isn't big enough for my traffic load and that I need to shell out big bucks for a larger server. 

In a nutshell, technical difficulties = lost money + spend money + spend more money.

It was perfect timing, since I was just sitting here with a bunch of cash in my hand thinking, "if only I could find a way to get rid of this..."

Ahem.

When I finished on the phone with tech dude, I went to get Dylan and found him naked and covered in poop.  Not only was he covered in it, so was the entire room.  Apparently he decided to see how far he could throw it.

The room looked and smelled like my life.  If I could describe my life with a picture, today it would be the poop room.

Since hubby is out of town all week, I had no backup...it was just me and the crap.

And I did that thing that I do.  The thing where I dutifully fulfill my task while silently, tearfully moping about my suffering and pondering my sad pitiful life and sighing and asking WHY ME.

It's a Lifetime Movie of the Week about me.  Starring me.  Written, directed and produced by me.

Award winning, even.

I finally finished with the ugly nasty day feeling quite sorry for myself and forsaken by God.  I settled down at my computer with a bag of Pepperidge Farm Double Chocolate Nantuckets fully intending on eating my way to the bottom and wallowing in self pity.

But thankfully instead I somehow found my way to one of my favorite blogs.  Funny how God is always there to provide a word when we need it.  Here is what I found:

I live with these human eyes, and with these human eyes of mine I label. I label one thing as good and one thing as bad. I label moments as blessing or burden. And I forget that all this labeling, it is not my right, not my place, not mine to do...

Suffering, pain loss and shame are only these things because I label them as such. Because I, a sinner, choose to eat from the tree, choose to turn away from nail-scarred hands and ignore the grace and miss the gift. He is beautiful and everything He creates is beautiful and if I choose to label it suffering I am choosing to miss the beauty that is freely offered me.  (Kisses from Katie)

Suddenly it hit me.

I missed the gift.

My son no longer sits in a dazed stupor staring off into space. He is curious. He is thoughtful.  He is taking initiative and experimenting with his environment.

The poop is a gift. It is part of my son's journey of awakening.

In my mind, his recovery played out more like a Lifetime Movie of the Week, with thoughtful heart-wrenching music and slow motion running hugs (I really need to stop watching Lifetime, I think).

Not poop rooms. Certainly not poop rooms.

But this is it. This is our present location on the map of taking him out of the grip of autism.

He smiles and he speaks and he laughs.

He splashes and he colors and he flings poop.

And so tonight I am grateful. Grateful for the poop.

Now I am going to go take another shower.