Those of you that follow this blog or have read my tidbits
may have noticed that I don’t write consistently I write in surges of
inspiration. I try to limit my stories to things that may bring value to others
rather than simply use this platform as a diary. Last Sunday, as I sat in
Church inspiration hit me over the head, as a matter of fact, I envisioned
writing this post. I thought about what details I would include and what I
would leave out, I had to remind myself to actually listen to the sermon that coincidentally
was the same message in many ways as what I wanted to write about.
The sermon was inclusiveness aimed to point out the value of
being with other Christians and how when 2 or more are together in God’s name a
church is formed. In many ways, this was deep in context for me I understood
the principle and enjoyed the message but on a very different level I
understood what isolation can feel like. I am in the unique situation of having
a neuro typical child and one who isn’t. This means I have seen the perks of
how easy it is to have your child included in traditional childhood experiences
and not included, this varies from birthday invitations to if your kids have
playdates or not, to quite frankly if they have friends or not. But that
isolation doesn’t always stop with them, it extends to the parent. We are
fortunate, we have wonderful friends and family that really will never know how
much they shrink that gap, but trust me the gap is there. When you go ANYWHERE
and someone doesn’t know your story, there are glances, comments, confusion and
aggravation for strangers when a situation isn’t perfectly “normal”.
We take all of this in stride, I do not expect the world to
change for us or my daughter, I do not hold what people don’t know against
them, but on the flip side I started to wonder how I could be more proactive
with folks that I knew must feel isolated. I have become quite familiar with
the signs of Autism, on some days I feel like a Doctor able to diagnose kids
even if their parents are unaware- BUT I am not a doctor, I cannot diagnose all
I have is an opinion and depending on how it is interpreted it can likely be felt
as judgement.
So as I sit in church, on this day the back row, a man and
his son sat down next to me and Matt. The boy was Lindsey’s age and was eager
to take his shoes off the moment his rear end hit the seat, his dad without
saying a word slipped his off in what appeared to be very much and action of solidarity.
This may be something that people do in some churches, it is not familiar to
me. I am familiar with how Autistic kids often can feel uncomfortable in their own
skin, much less clothing, socks or shoes. So, I took note and was happy to
greet them when the time came. Nothing more than “Good Morning” was said but
these two had captured my attention. They didn’t do anything outrageous, the
boy squirmed in his seat some, the dad would simply hug or embrace him when he
seemed restless, from time to time the boy who was closely listening to the
sermon would answer some of our pastor’s questions out loud, or make
conversation about it to his dad in a similar conversational skill level that
Lindsey has. I couldn’t rock this feeling that this kid sitting 2 seats down
from me has AUTISM. He was definitely higher functioning, but the dad knew
exactly how to tend to him and make this experience as “typical” as possible.
Obviously, I don’t know for sure this child has any diagnosis, he may not, but
my 6th sense told me this family seemed to have a very similar story
to us.
Now came the hard part, do I say anything at the end of
service? Our preacher just explained how important inclusion was? Would it be
beneficial for me to find a way to strike up a conversation? Or would it be
hurtful to them in some way that I noticed the differences even after all the
effort? Or even worse what if they haven’t had “our story” at all what if I
have misread all the clues and am flat out wrong, they may find that insulting.
So, I sat there and when it was time to go I started to follow Matt down the aisle,
but turned back to the dad and said “You know he really did quite well sitting
thru the whole service, have a great week”. Somehow, I landed on simply giving
a complement, regardless of if he was “neuro-typical” or not, he was good, and
his dad had done everything to help him enjoy the service.
I think I was compelled to share this story because this is
something I really struggle with, I want to be helpful to anyone I can but how
to help, or how to start a conversation is something I still don’t always know
the answer to. I like where I landed on Sunday with simply offering a
complement, I think I will try to do that more. After all is said and done every
parent likes having their child complemented, and you never know if that one sentence
is what that one person on that one day needed to hear to feel included.
Don’t let your thoughts, suspensions, or the unknown paralyze
you, I think the worst thing I could have done last Sunday would have been to
leave without saying good bye. I would have kicked myself for days for not
trying to have said something but being kind hurts no one and I hope that if
his sons story and Lindsey’s are similar that that dad left feeling even more
proud of how well he had done and that I noticed what a good dad he was too. I also hope that the next time you see someone
and feel like you “know” or that you can sympathize with a situation that you
have the confidence to find something to complement for that parent,
neuro-typical or not we as parents can always use uplifting words!
