Attitude Adjustment

"Erasing Autism," is the title of the article in Newsweek. The illustration jars my spirit. It would be wrong to cut Reid out of our family portrait. The ultimate exclusion. Equally wrong to eliminate him from the church body or society at large. Kudos to Ari Ne'eman for having the courage to stand up in Washington and defend neurodiversity.

Since they were born, I have felt my utmost purpose as a mother is to assure both my kids that their lives are on purpose and their position in our family is secure. Adoption has heightened that goal in my mind as much as (or more than) autism.

This article comes on the heels of NPR, Time and GQ reviews of Karl Taro Greenfield's book, Boy Alone: A Brother's Memoir, about his brother Noah who is now, in fact, a man alone with aging parents and a brother who will not necessarily be his keeper. While I admire Greenfield's honesty and empathize with his circumstance, I am saddened by the bitterness, resentment and cruelty in his voice. As a mom, I hope to model and instill values that will dictate a different prerogative in my daughter's life as a sibling.

This double assault to my sensibility is a stark contrast to where my mind dwells. It reminds me of a huge victory my daughter scored over the Enemy last summer when she proclaimed God's sovereignty in designing our family.

Arguably, Allie has withstood the most potentially damaging impact of Reid's autism. The demands of his behavior and intervention could certainly be breeding grounds for resentment, perceived neglect, and anger. She would have every earthly "right" to object and could have the most to gain by erasing Reid from the proverbial family album. Oddly, ironically, fortunately, wisely, she does not desire that. Like Ari Ne'eman, the Aspie in the Newsweek article, she is close enough to the reality to be an informed expert witness. She also has absorbed enough of God's truth from the Bible that it is the plumb line for her attitude toward her brother.

Last summer, we found a winning solution to the recurrent and age-old question of how to vacation with extended family. My generous, peace-loving mother rented us our very own place a mile or so away from her vacation home. In her words, "it was the best visit we'd had in 14 years." Not being under the same roof turned out to be a key to enjoying a week together. There was no comparison between her model home "Moor the Merrier" and our "Duck Inn" on the Isle of Nantucket. To each his own. Truth be told, we preferred the sunken sandy threshold and indestructible nature of the Duck to her pristine white slipcovers and fine bone china collector appointments. Can you say, damage control?

We enjoyed lots of different pairings of cousins and aunts without the tension of sharing bathrooms and sleep patterns. My mom claimed one night to herself with Allie--an intentional effort to compensate. Woohoo! Fancy schmancy time alone with grandma to shop in Nantucket town and sleep at the big house under 500 thread count cotton sheets. Score! Reid stayed behind with us in the beater, low-rent, rental shack we'd pragmatically chosen. There was a wistfulness to their departure, recalling what might have been, reckoning what is "normal" and even wishing life were different. We all felt it.

That night, as Allie scampered off excitedly for their girls night out, she remembered she had not said goodbye to Reid. She asked my mom if she could go back in to do so.

My faithful mother has experienced her own loss in regard to Reid's autism and our family's reality. When Allie rejoined her in the car she couldn't help but notice, "Oh, Allie, you really love Reid don't you." Allie said, "Oh, yes I do. He has come so far. I used to wish Reid didn't have autism but now I am glad he does because I have learned so much. I am much more patient than I would be otherwise and life would have been so boring. I wouldn't be who I am if it weren't for Reid." Further discussion about the fruits of the Holy Spirit ensued. Without any hesitation, my meek, sage, spirit-filled Allie, had edified the moment and "taken her thoughts captive and made them obedient to Christ." 2 Corinthians 5:3-5

We learn from children. I learn from Allie. According to the Bible, the Kingdom of God belongs to such as them. Allie's perspective even on adult issues, is an example to us. If the ultimate spiritual rebellion is to think we can make decisions that belong to God alone, then the converse is what I'll strive for instead. The ultimate spiritual obedience is to accept from the hand of God all that He allows in our lives.


Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others. Your attitude should be the same as that of Christ Jesus Philippians 2:4-6


For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Hebrews 4:11-13



"For who has known the mind of the Lord that he may instruct him?" But we have the mind of Christ. 1 Corinthians 2:15-16

Roller Coaster...of Love

Today's New York Times has an honest, positive, and well-rounded article by Annie Lubliner Lehmann whose book, The Accidental Teacher: Life Lessons form My Silent Son, we will all have to read.

The title of the article, "A Roller Coaster to Acceptance of A Son's Autism," caught my eye because it was the very same metaphor I used to describe our adventures in autismland to a group of mothers of preschoolers (MOPS) recently. Their theme for the year is Adventures in Motherhood and each month's speaker was asked to orient their topic around a theme park ride.

Here's an excerpt from my roller coaster talk:

My house, and I’m sure some of yours too, has “never a dull moment.” Toddlers and preschoolers are by definition “on the go” which makes for an abundance of activity and unexpected surprises.We had a favorite song when my kids were preschoolers, a Scottish folk song by Bonnie Rideout. “Oh such a Hurryburry , oh what a din, oh such a hurryburry our house is in,” it went. Just when I think those days are gone some craziness happens again.

My kids are technically teenagers now, 14 yr old boy/girl twins. My son, Reid, has autism and maybe some other labels if we wanted to pin them on him—OCD, bi-polar, ADHD x 10. You name it, he seems to have a touch of it. So the hurry burry goes with the territory. In many ways our lifestyle is still as unpredictable as yours with toddlers—we are still working on language development, social skills, turn taking, sharing, using your words, even potty training. Autism affects social, language, and behavioral development—so mastery of those skills will be a lifelong pursuit for Reid.

Just last Saturday, the hurry burry set in when a friend dropped by unexpectedly (Reid thrives on structure). As I walked her to the curb, another friend walked by with her small dog. Our big dog saw the little dog through the window, which spurred a barking frenzy. Since Reid has hyper-sensitive hearing, this brought on a screaming jag and an explosive reaction. Doors were slammed and a garage door opener thrown. I am grateful to have some pretty exceptional friends who understand when I yell BYE and suddenly bolt for the door to salvage the house before my husband blew up too. Sound familiar? This is not unlike what you do with toddlers when you get off the phone abruptly, “gotta go” because of a loud noise from the other room.

I tell you all this not to bash my son or complain-- but simply to establish why I chose the roller coaster as my theme park. Most roller coasters start with a very long twisting line.

Our experience of parenting started with a very long wait –7 years of infertility followed by the twists and turns of adoption before…in total ecstasy we finally adopted TWINS—a boy and a girl no less!

Around 18 months, I had a gut feeling that something was not quite right with Reid and began asking questions of the pediatrician…wanting to be told that it was nothing. I raised every red flag on a checklist of autism symptoms.

Can you picture those hard, full-body restraint seat belts they lower over you and click into place when you get in a coaster car? That’s what it felt like when Reid was gradually diagnosed with autism around 3 years old. With no choice in the matter, we initially felt trapped, stuck, a little tricked by God, and like surely we were going to die.

Thus began the steep ascent up the first hill. We white knuckled it up every hill climb and blind turn, telling ourselves I can do this, freaking out inside, trying to fearing the future, trying to silence our second thoughts and all the "what ifs".

The slow, click, click, clicking sounds of the machinery remind me of how painstaking it is for Reid to master every new skill and developmental milestone . You can practically hear the gears turning in his brain and feel the traction that’s required to do what seems so simple for everyone else—utter a sentence, throw a ball, tolerate clothes on, blow out a candle, ride a 2-wheeler, tie his shoes.

Then the coaster goes into that free fall and drops-- along with your stomach.

Everyone around you is screaming; air is whooshing and machinery sounds seem to be turned on full blast. Reid’s body is often out of sync. He has a myriad of sensory integration issues. Background and foreground noise are one in the same for him. He hears fluorescent lights and I believe the neighbor’s television sets. When he is on overload, it becomes our reality as well. One thing can lead to another in rapid succession then, and there is no way to get off the ride.

OWHH! Then along comes a sharp turn. Your neck jerks and you are thrown around. For us, this happens when there are problems at school. We’ll have to find another one. Or when the daily phone call from school includes an “incident report” or “problem behavior” documented for the record. Turn after turn. Hang on!! When will this end?

(Can you tell I don’t like roller coasters?) Here’s why I think God allows them…or what I’ve learned about God from the one I’m on!

First thing I’ve noticed about coasters—even from the ground level where I usually just sit and watch-- is that even the people who love them, mostly love them at the end. When they are over. Waiting in line, they’re scared, anxious, tense, and insecure. It’s not until the final braking and coasting into the station that the smiles form across their faces. It’s only when they’re de-boarding the vehicle—taking all your belongings with you—that they say, “Let’s do it again!”

1 John 1:4 says “what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, we proclaim to you also, These things we write, so that our joy may be made complete.”

Our joy does tend to come at the end. God’s seems to indicate here that our joy will be complete at the end of the ride, not necessarily at every climb and twist and turn along the way.

Secondly, God doesn't leave us alone. I can count on one hand how many coasters I’ve ridden. One was at the Del Mar Fair. My daughter reallllly wanted to go on one. No dad around. You can’t put an 8 yr old on one of those rickety rides by herself so, I had to buck up and do it. In total self-sacrifice and protection, I said yes. I didn’t ride that one because I wanted to, but because she asked me to! I don’t think I would be on this ride-of-my-life if God had not asked me to take it. And, moreover, He goes with me, which really does make it all OK.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:5-7

Another time I found myself on Space Mountain in Disneyworld. The only thing worse than a fair roller coaster is one in the dark where you sit single file! This time we were with courageous boy cousins and a grandfather who pressured Allie and I into taking it. Papa Jim, her grandfather remembered it (from 30 yrs prior) and assured us it was very tame…nothing really. Well, we believed him until we entered the first dark tunnel. It was not tame! Allie was mad. She won’t trust Papa again…at least in theme parks.

Lastly, God doesn’t betray us. He clearly indicates that there will be trials along the way: in this world. He doesn't want us to be surprised; he doesn't talk us into things, He talks us through them in His Word.


"In the world you have tribulation, but take courage; I have overcome the world." John 16:33


"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery ordeal among you, which comes upon you for your testing, as though some strange thing were happening to you; but to the degree that you share the sufferings of Christ, keep on rejoicing" 1 Peter 4


"Just think—you don't need a thing, you've got it all! All God's gifts are right in front of you as you wait expectantly for our Master Jesus to arrive on the scene for the Finale. And not only that, but God himself is right alongside to keep you steady and on track until things are all wrapped up by Jesus. God, who got you started in this spiritual adventure, shares with us the life of his Son and our Master Jesus. He will never give up on you. Never forget that.
1 Corinthians 1:6-8 from The Message

Flight Training

DoC, Dad of Cameron shares this video as another metaphor for the experience of parenting and living with autism. It can feel all at once, nearly impossible and incredibly rewarding--like landing a 747. The plane metaphor reminds me of a story my friend, Barbara Klett, shared with a group of us praying last April for ASD Pray and Fast Day. She wrote:

In his book, Christ for Real, Charles Price describes three people sitting beside one another on an airplane. One is an experienced business traveler, one a first-time flier who is pretty excited to be flying, and one a first-time flier who is motivated to get on the plane only because the plane will take her to see her grandchildren for the first time.

The experienced traveler takes the journey in comfort, reading his book, napping, and casually eating the meal. He exits the plane relaxed, refreshed, and confident. He had watermelon sized faith in that plane.

The first-time, excited flier is a bit nervous, feels every bump, is aware of every odd sound. He exits the plane a bit tired, but fine. He had peach-sized faith in that plane.

The grand mum is completely uncomfortable through the entire trip, holds on to the chair’s arm rests with white knuckles, tries to eat the meal but ends up losing that. She exits the plane exhausted and worn out. She had mustard-seed-sized faith in that plane.

No matter the size of their faith, they all arrived at their destination at the same time. It wasn’t that the watermelon-sized faith guy landed 2-hours ahead of the mustard-seed-sized faith lady. They only needed enough faith to get on the plane. The plane took care of the journey.

God is taking care of our journey. Our level of faith in God is merely a measurement of our exhaustion level as we struggle through, or our refreshment level as we rest in Him. The comfort of the journey is up to our interpretation. It matters not the level of OUR faith; it matters in Whom we place our faith.

So, are you enjoying the ride? Trusting the pilot takes a lot of pressure off.


Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we trust in the name of the LORD our God. They are brought to their knees and fall, but we rise up and stand firm. Psalm 20:7-8

Your ears will hear a word behind you, "This is the way, walk in it," whenever you turn to the right or to the left. Isaiah 30:20-22

He replied, "Because you have so little faith. I tell you the truth, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there' and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you. Matthew 17:19-21

You Gotta Laugh

I want to see Lynnette Louise in her one-woman show, Thing to Thing to Thing. This energetic woman has enough heart and guts to adopt 8 kids with special needs. She has facilitated huge gains for them and many more clients through her neurofeedback practice. Her niche comedy reminds us to laugh at ourselves and our circumstances. Laughing out loud is healthy. Isn't it also the truest form of comprehension? We laugh out loud in acknowledgment of some truth.



When my son was maybe five years old, my mom posed a pointed question during a visit to our home: "Don't you think it's important to be able to laugh about 'it'? "It" was the "a" word which at that time was unutterable. As a family we were still grappling with acceptance. At that stage of the journey I was bearing down, attempting to fix, willing away any identifying aspects of my son's behavior. It is a sign of progress that now I do laugh.

Prerequisite to being able to laugh at ourselves (and our kids) is having a healthy perspective or world view. Could those moments when its "just not funny" be the times we've lost perspective? When I'm not able to laugh, I know I need to recheck my perspective.

The ultimate perspective is an eternal one. An eternal perspective enables me to not only laugh, but also cope, move forward, think clearly, and accept help from those around me. An eternal perspective reminds me that none of this matters anyway; we are but dust; this earthly life will seem like a quick exhale when we get to heaven; we all get new perfectly functioning bodies and brains in heaven; God is in control.

If you aren't laughing, ask God to give you his eternal lenses.


"A cheerful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." Proverbs 17:22

"Our mouths were filled with laughter, our tongues with songs of joy. Then it was said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them." Psalm 126:2