Documenting Miracles

God is always answering prayer. If we are alert, acknowledge it and mark it down, we remember. If not, the results can be as fleeting as a spring zephyr. More than anything, I hope this blog chronicles what God is doing in Reid's life, ours, and others' around him as we journey through autism to the promised land.

Truly in the last few weeks, there is more happening than I have time to articulate. Our cups are overflowing with every imaginable flavor and scent of His presence. I long to turn the winsome face to face praise reports I give my Bible study girls from vapor into lasting ebenezers of His power and faithfulness. December is a swirl of goodness.

The school psychologist at Reid's school helped me out this time. He sent this email last week titled, "Prepare to Hit PRINT." It made our year! (names changed for privacy)

Greetings. I was on campus today doing some research with 4 different students. One of those was Reid and he is doing an outstanding job maintaining his attention and responding to different stimuli.

The more notable thing today was something that occurred during lunch. Another student, Billy, one Pioneer's more noisy students, was not in the best of spirits today. While eating his lunch in the cafeteria Billy would randomly shout and scream out loud, crying, covering his ears with his hands. It was pretty rough for everyone else in the room; Billy had been occasionally going off like this for over 2 hours.

Well, the various students in the room slowly started to filter out. Some had finished their lunches, others were moving away from Billy. After about 5 minutes into this one particular scream session over half a dozen students had left. Billy was the only one left at his table.

At that point, Reid slowly got up from where he was sitting. I was watching him; Reid tends not to to break down any further when other Pioneer students are having a rough time. In this case Reid sat down right next to Billy. Billy was yelling, then quiet, then yelling, putting his hands on his head, waving them in the air. Reid sat on Billy's left, and ate his lunch. He didn't move. Occasionally he would look at Billy, then at the table.

Well, Billy slowly started to calm down. First the hands stopped waving, then the voice got more quiet. Billy started to eat his food. He even reached in his lunch pack and pulled some other things out. After about 120 seconds he and Reid were sitting there together in silence.

Then, Reid left. He stood up, first pulled his right, then left foot over the bench of the "table," gathered his empty plate and cup, and headed to the door. All the other students were outside at this point, playing. No doubt Reid was heading to the couch in the courtyard where he likes to soak up the sun. I approached him as he got to the door.

"Reid," I asked. "Why did you do that?"

He looked at me for a moment, then at the floor. "Billy needed it," he said. Then he walked out.

I went over and sat next to Billy myself.

Cheers, Jake

Flooding my mind after I absorbed this, were verses I'd prayed in years prior all coming to fruition in seemingly a single stroke. The fullness of time. This boy, my boy, over whom I've prayed believing prayers that:

...he would grow in wisdom, favor and stature with God and man...

...that the Spirit of the Lord would be upon Him, a spirit of Wisdom and understanding, counsel and power, knowledge and the fear of the Lord...

...that he would be filled with the Holy Spirit...love, joy, peace, patience, goodness, kindness, faithfulness, and self-control (ohhh self-control)...

...that his little light would shine....

...that God would bless him indeed as he had Jabez, enlarge his territory and keep him from evil...

Lo and behold, He did, He had, and He was.

This joyful boy whose hands and head we've anointed with oil and Psalm 23 this month, is not only maintaining his own self-control but also coming alongside others to offer the ministry of presence.

How tender the heart of God to provide me with a detailed, objective glimpse through the keyhole to see the evidence of prayers He is answering.

The celebration widened as Jim shared with our church small group who had trudged the pits of April with us. Equally agog, they chimed in:

Tears….sitting on an airplane back from DC with a stranger next to me wondering what the heck is going on…it’s a family of Christ thing

Killer story…..i can say that reid has a similar effect on me when I hear him chanting in the background at our study. His presence and comments are one of the things that make the Moriarty house a home

Oh my. Joy. "...i think i'm feeling that feeling again..."

Goosebumps. And from Allie, "this is the kind of thing you hear about happening to other people, but not to us."

For this, I can honestly say, it's been worth the wait.

I'm Meltinnnngg......

There are mini-miracles and there are mini-meltdowns. My preference for the former, does not exempt me from the latter. As much as I know and profess that "His mercies are new every morning," "He has a plan for good," and "works all things together for good," I don't always feel it. Yesterday, was one of those days.

Generally speaking, I am not a crier. Quite the opposite, many times I wish I could cry at retreats, memorials, or on cue when it seems appropriately feminine. One of the top #10 hurtful moments of my life was when someone accused me of being "stoic." What does that mean? I'm unfeeling, stubborn, too tough? Ouch.

Yesterday, I was raw and so, tried to hide. My heart felt like an eggshell that cracked at the slightest touch. My eyes warmed from within as tears flowed off and on each time I was alone in my car. My head ached from holding back the flow of pathetic, discouraging thoughts.

Life seemed so broken and sad, sad, sad. Recurrent loss drown me like a tidal wave.

Burgeoning under the surface was the fact that yesterday was the kids' birthday. Despite the fact that that is reason to celebrate, Reid and I ended up alone. Allie's 9th grade class trip to China left Monday night. She turned 15 surrounded by her peers. Her personal milestone was marked in a memorable way since their June 4th itinerary took them to Tiananmen Square on the 20th anniversary of the historic protest. I imagined her day as a swirling vortex of independence, fun, college-prep, global engagement, and new horizons.

Jim is in Australia on business with spotty Skype connection. A common occurrence for him to travel (and no picnic, really) but, part of the barometric pressure building in my tumultuous day. Reid's triennial IEP is next Tuesday which means I am receiving a barrage of assessments and recommendations from 5 different specialists which justify Reid's non-public placement and transition to a functional living track (as opposed to diploma bound). They also quantify his deficits in black and white detail.

These factors created a perfect storm of isolation, comparison, anxiety, and grief. I was untethered and before I knew it, thoughts were unraveling about this kid who only a mother could love (yet I wasn't). The gap between Allie's reality and Reid's existence was widening into a canyon. I was staring brokenness in the face and pining for what should be. She'll be driving and he won't. Three more years and she'll be off to college; he'll be...underfoot.

And then, guilt as I tried to not only keep Reid in his routine but also somehow create a meaningful birthday for him by my depleted self. I arrived at his school 30 minutes after lunch period with the blasted ice cream sandwiches feeling like a failure. (Are there no grocery stores in that neighborhood?)

Reid's case manager chased me down in the parking lot. Honestly, I was hoping for another hour of denial as I slipped out to the car to have my little break down (like Holly Hunter in Broadcast News.) He is awesome at his job and was preparing me for his written report of new goals. Nonetheless, he blew into the now spiraling funnel cloud of my emotions.

With his usual competence, professionalism even care, he recapped the current levels and probable goals for Reid with the summary phrase that he become "socially invisible." That hit hard; I had to evacuate fast.

That phrase irks me. I've heard his boss use it before and as much as I understand the importance and appreciate their hard working achieving it, it breaks my heart to hear it. What they mean to accomplish is have Reid blend in culturally, look like a typical teenager, and extinguish the red flags that give away his disability. I hate it as much as when Jim desperately begs him to "act normal."

Is that what we've come to? What kind of parent wants their children to be invisible? I want my children to distinguish themselves from the crowd; stand up for what they believe; and aspire to greatness! How have we stooped to such mediocrity?! Who made us compromise?

How can I hold these diametrically opposed goals --those of earth and those of heaven-- in some kind of simultaneous, healthy tension?

I used to believe, really believe that Reid would fit in somewhere and that he'd be whole somehow, healed, and that he'd achieve greatness. Am I the only one left with that hope? Can I sustain it alone? Does anyone else even care?

No one called to wish Reid a Happy Birthday until 7pm, when the two of us were already eating at Chevy's and couldn't talk anyway. Then both my credit cards were denied and I had to pay for our stupid dinner with a bad check.

Low, I'm telling you it was a low day. I am glad it's over. This is getting long enough.

Who's been there?

But you will cry out with a heavy heart, And you will wail with a broken spirit. Isaiah 65:13-15


The LORD is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit. Psalm 34:17-19

But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, so that the surpassing greatness of the power will be of God and not from ourselves; we are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not despairing; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; 2 Corinthians 4:6-8

photo credit: www.sivacracy.net/melting.jpg