April is Autism Awareness and Acceptance month. Today, April 2nd, is the specified Autism Awareness and Acceptance Day. I feel equal parts obligated to post today and completely and humbly honored that I might speak some of our truth as a family with autism into the world for others to read.
This morning Facebook reminded me of how many times I have posted on this day. On most of them I have invited people to ask me whatever they want to know. I am an open book on the subject of our family autism experience and truly do believe it is part of my calling and ministry to share our journey so that others might find understanding, or at the very least learn to enter into dialogue about the subject. Very few have taken me up on the offer, and usually they ask something fairly general like “What is the one thing you wish people understood about those that have autism?” It’s a valid question, but a hard one to answer. There is so much that I wish people understood.
But even more so I find myself thinking that there is so much I wish I understood about my people with autism.
I wish I understood why sometimes my people can roll with the punches and get through days without hardly a grump and sometimes they hit the meltdown wall completely unexpectedly and can’t seem to function beyond crying or yelling in that moment.
I wish I understood why one of my people needs only to be told once what the expectations are and will meet them every time thereafter and another one of my people requires near constant nagging to complete recurring daily activities.
I wish I understood my youngest person. Not diagnosed on the spectrum, but let’s not kid ourselves. This one has grown up in a family with autism. There are things y’all. There are things. And I will never really know if those are slivers of the spectrum genuinely innate in this one or if they are behaviors learned from environment and ingrained so deeply that it really doesn’t matter which the answer is.
I wish I understood the magical relationship my people all have with our dogs. The oldest seeking a career working with small animals, the middle actually coming out of his room to engage in giggling play with our pups, and the youngest who can be brought back from full on meltdown status by simply placing a dog in her lap.
So many things I don’t understand. So many questions about their future I’m mostly too scared to think all the way through.
But there is a flip side.
There are some things I understand so well that I want to shout them from the mountain tops for all to hear.
I understand that this is not a disease, it is a way of being. It is the way my people were crafted by God and I love them just as they are.
I understand that much of the world’s genius would not exist were it not for those on the autism spectrum.
I understand that contrary to some “expertise,” my people are not lacking in emotion and empathy. They feel everything and they feel it BIG. They feel more deeply than I can express. Their hurts are more painful, their anger burns hotter, and their love – their love runs deeper than you can possibly know.
I understand that my people bring beauty, humor, creativity, and joy into this world.
I understand that every single day is a battle for my people. That each time they successfully navigate school without incident is a victory won, and that may mean they are exhausted when they get home.
I understand that is my job as their momma to love them fiercely, give them space to feel what they feel (you may throw a fit but you will do it in your room – and you will clean up whatever mess you make in the process), support them through the hard spots (seriously, middle school girl friendship is hard), require they learn responsibility (daily chores and consequences for disobedience), teach them to problem solve so they can do what seems impossible (like the dishes – it’s amazing what a pair of gloves can do!), and always, always push them towards independence even while my heart breaks at the fear I will feel as they fly from this nest.
There are individuals in my home with autism. I don’t think of them that way. They are just my people. We are a family with autism. We bear each other’s burdens. Sometimes we feel each other’s pain. We always share each other’s joy. We show up for each other whenever it is possible, and we extend grace to each other when it is not. We understand that everyone has limits and that stretching and growing those limits takes patience and grace. And as it turns out, that goes for people not on the spectrum too.
Patience & Grace 