Winning the Little Boy Lottery

It's been awhile since I sat down to write a little about Dylan.  It is raw and difficult, so I avoid it.  I've shared in the past how he came into our lives during a dark and challenging time.  His joyful and innocent spirit bathed our dark place in a warm and comforting light.  Since he was a baby and long before the autism diagnosis, he has been our very heart.  The embodiment of our hope. When my husband and I pray together, we never forget to tell God in all the human words we can muster how eternally grateful we feel for being given the privilege of experiencing life alongside him.  That we were chosen from among all people to partake in this beautiful life with him. 

Awhile back, I was listening to Beth Moore speak.  She told a story of her daughter who loved dolphins.   A few years back they were on vacation at a very populated beach when they heard gasps and saw pointing from the other sunbathers.  They looked in the direction of the pointing to see several dolphins swimming around one person - their daughter.  You could look up and down the beach and see thousands of people as far as the eye could see in either direction.  But her daughter was the only one with dolphins swimming around her. 

Realizing this, her other daughter spoke up and said, "Mom, why did God give the dolphins to her when there are so many other people".  Beth thought for a minute and replied "I think it's because God knew she was the one who would recognize them as a gift from Him".

I'm not sure, but I think that's why I got Dylan.

There is no other explanation.  I'm extremely flawed.  If God was gonna pick a favorite, I wouldn't be anywhere near the top of the list.  I have not earned his favor with any qualities or any works I have ever done.  In fact, if you wanna know the truth, I imagine I've done little more that frustrate him for the past forty years.  It must be simply because He knew I would know Dylan was from Him.  It's His nod-and-wink to remind me how much He loves me.  Dylan is my love letter from God. 

I think God knew that I would get that.  And that's why I won the little boy lottery.

Today time seems to pass quickly.  He grows in body.  His face is starting to lose signs of baby-ness.  His small size which once concealed his disability starts to betray him, revealing his age and telling all strangers that his behavior does not fit his size.  As far as I can tell, he is still innocent.  Unaware of his differentness or the looks it sometimes draws.  But the day is drawing near when that will change.  

He is smart.

His intellect is expanding.  But his social awareness isn't.  He only knows that if he pitches a fit at school he is bound to get his way.  Then he takes this knowledge home with him.  He uses it at the park and the grocery store.  At the neighbor's house and in the car.  He rages to influence his surroundings, ever testing his boundaries to see how far he can expand them.  It isn't because he is bad.  But because he has no words to use.  Think about this.  How would you change your environment if you couldn't find the words?  What would you do?  If you get right down to it, without words the second line of defense is emotions.  This is what he has so this is what he tries to use.

It is widely believed that autistic kids cannot understand emotion.  I strongly disagree.  I see that he is deeply affected by the emotions of others, good or bad.  But he doesn't know what causes them.  If I am happy, worried, angry or anything in between, it registers with him. 

He jumped off the sofa today, coming millimeters away from banging his head on the entertainment center.  He was so close, I actually thought he hit it.  Since I didn't have my "A" game on, I reacted as typical mom fashion.  Omigosh Dylan are you okay?  Worried look.  Loud voice.  Examining his head for any signs of trauma.  He saw my worry.  He felt it.  But he didn't know what caused it.  So this is where the experts get it wrong.  They can feel social rejection.  They can feel disapproval.  They just can't determine the why of it. 

On the other hand, despite the fact that he doesn't grasp the emotions of others, he has learned very well that his emotions can cause them to change.  He can cry and rage and stomp and throw himself down and he can change to course of his school day.  Teachers are interested in learning objectives being met, and not so much in influencing behaviors.  So they yield, allowing him to avoid tasks in exchange for a return of the quiet.  They promise a return to the task later.  They mold and shape and bend to fit his whims.  They don't realize and won't listen when they're told this is worse than not teaching him...

So this is where we are.  A mind just like yours and mine trapped inside a body that can't express with words.  Looking for a way to be heard.  We pray like we have never prayed that God would give him the words so the behaviors would not be necessary.  So he can have a social life and work alongside peers and have a normal school day. 

I pray that I could hear him and know him and nurture and comfort and guide.  I want to hear what he thinks and feels and show him which path is right and which is wrong.  I want to introduce him to my God.  To read the Bible and share the hope of Jesus so that he knows there is a purpose to all of this.  I want to tell him the story of how his dad and I met.  To share a bike ride and a sunset and know that he is with me.  Really understanding.  I want to be his mother in the way I know how to be a mother and I want him to see and feel and be okay.

For now I can't show him the world the way I want to.  For now, he can only show me the world the way he wants to.  And there is much for me to learn and see and appreciate through his eyes.  But still, I pray for healing.  It is a conflict because I want him to be him.  Whatever that is.  I want to soak it in and affirm his beauty and encourage and nurture it all.  I don't want to make him fit the box he is "suppose to" fit in.  But I also want him to be healed.  So how to have both?