As it is in heaven....

The truth doesn't hurt--it does make me cry though. I was surprised this article in the Orange County Register brought me to tears. Usually I don't even click on them; they've become cliche; or I'm calloused, not sure which?

In any case, this time I did and by the paragraph when Mark and Kylie get called into the principal's office, I was all choked up.

We tease my husband, Jim, that he's become so sensitive in his middle age, crying more often at chick flicks or in church. In his own defense, he has a theory that his emotional response is brought on by some pure truth. To experience guileless authenticity in stark contrast to our corrupt world touches a deep place in our hearts. A yearning we all have. Some would say, the Holy Spirit falls when the waterworks begin.

So here's the truth from God's Word that dropped into my head as my heart was poked.

What happened at that OC high school was more than kindness or charity. Kylie's initiative and the response of his peers was a tangible demonstration of God's Kingdom coming to earth as it is in heaven. Do you know--really believe?--that accepting Jesus makes us sons and daughters of the King of Kings! Literally, we are adopted into His family to receive the same inheritance--eternal life plus immeasurable riches and the right to rule.

Unfathomable, until we see it dramatized in a true story like Mark's. Who can grasp...?

Long before he laid down earth's foundations, he had us in mind, had settled on us as the focus of his love, to be made whole and holy by his love. Long, long ago he decided to adopt us into his family through Jesus Christ. (What pleasure he took in planning this!) Ephesians 1

Glory and strength to Christ, who loves us,
who blood-washed our sins from our lives,
Who made us a Kingdom, Priests for his Father,
forever—and yes, he's on his way! Revelation 1:6

Now listen, daughter, don't miss a word:
forget your country, put your home behind you.
Be here—the king is wild for you.
Since he's your lord, adore him. Psalm 45

He said to them, “When you pray, say: “‘Father, hallowed be your name, your Kingdom come. Luke 11:1-3

(I also love it because Facebook is a new, regular part of Reid's Language Arts activities at school--age appropriate and socially relevant. And could there be a better case for inclusion?)

You did click the link and read the article, right?

Seeing Potential

Reid came running off the bus as elated as his cheery bus drivers. He was in proud possession of another "Social Superstar award" from school. Waving it with shoulders back and a big wide grin made him seem 3 feet taller than when he'd left that morning. The thrill of victory!

It reminded me of the one he'd brought home last January. It's still on the bulletin board waiting to make the blog. It reads "Hygiene Social Superstar" which was ironic at the time. I imagine it may have been a one-time-only creation from the genius staff at Pioneer Day School.

What lies beneath the surface (but is not lost on me) is the fact that his nose was running heavily that week with a persistent cold. He hates to handle tissues, let alone use them to actually wipe his nose. The fact that they gave him the "hygiene" award that particular week, first made me laugh. Were they being sarcastic?! I could see the disgusting result of 7 hours of drip being wiped on the same shirtsleeve.

But really and truly, they live out the tagline on the Director's auto signature: "Great people are those who can make others feel that they, too, can become great." Mark Twain

To perceive, let alone treat people according to their potential is a mighty thing. They did not emphasize the mess, the inconvenience or the breach in sanitation mores. Instead they rewarded the progress toward mastery in personal hygiene. Maybe it was one swipe of a kleenex? or two squirts of anti-bac soap? I'll never know, but I appreciate it. Their intention heightened Reid's awareness of his own ability. Their belief was in a future eventuality.

It reminds me of how God the Father sees us through the blood of Christ. He doesn't see our sin or messed up lives. All that is cancelled by the cross. He sees us instead through Jesus--white as snow, forgiven, with a destiny as sons and daughters clothed in robes of righteousness, heirs to his inheritance. A mighty thing indeed!

God sacrificed Jesus on the altar of the world to clear that world of sin. Having faith in him sets us in the clear. This is not only clear, but it's now—this is current history! God sets things right. He also makes it possible for us to live in his rightness. Romans 3:25

God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! Romans 8:15-17

It's like a filthy set of ill-fitting clothes you've stripped off and put in the fire. Now you're dressed in a new wardrobe. Every item of your new way of life is custom-made by the Creator, with his label on it...From now on everyone is defined by Christ, everyone is included in Christ. Colossians 3:10

Top 10 Tuesday

Top 10 Favorite Words from Reid's Latest IEP

10. charismatic

9. initiator

8. seizes

7. leading

6. enthusiasm

5. contagious

4. kinesthetic

3. joyful

2. laughing

1. charismatic (yes, it was used twice)

I realize this is taking things out of context, but sitting there sharing a copy of "Present Levels" with Jim, I couldn't help but underline the words that popped out at me. This is our boy!

How wonderful to be around a table of people who notice, appreciate and acknowledge his strengths while they shore up his considerable deficits. Keeping the gifts in sight is what motivates us all, including Reid. As it's been said, we become what we focus on.

I wouldn't have imagined ever saying this but the morning after, I told Jim I wish those meetings were more often. To brainstorm and collaborate with people who care so deeply about Reid's future and work creatively and tirelessly toward common goals, was energizing.

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:7-9

For as he thinks in his heart, so is he. Proverbs 23:7

And do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, so that you may prove what the will of God is, that which is good and acceptable and perfect. Romans 12:1-3

A New Car!

Standing in the Toyota Carlsbad used car lot, Jim tried to track the various specs our salesman, Mo, had committed to memory. Which Prius in the row was the best value for us? They honestly need a chart (or a website like CarMax). Without it, the oral recounting was as lost on us as the details of our genealogy.

Jim started to sound like a parrot, reiterating his own clarifying questions.

"How much is the that one again?"

"What was the mileage on the white one?"

"Has the black one been discounted yet?"

Each time we moved down the line to the next car, we lost site of the sticker on the previous one. It's a larger-than-life-size game of elimination. And that was before we got to my color preferences.

Reid must have been thinking this looked a lot like a rental car lot at any airport in the country. He knew what to do. Hop in, hang on, and start scoping out the glovebox.

As we'd piled out of Jim's MiniCooper, Reid opened the back door of the silver one right next to us, "I like this one. Let's go." (Come to think of it, that's the one we drove off the lot 2 hours later. Hmm..)

I was on Reid-patrol since Jim is the premier negotiator, "Well not yet, Reid. Dad has to talk to the man here and think it through. It costs a lot of dollars so, it might take him a little while." This is when the circular Q and A ensued.

That was our cue to search for a vending machine. Before we did, Reid put a hand on Jim's shoulder and came out with a phrase I imagine he must hear frequently at school, "Dad, are you having trouble making a choice?"

The kid speaks the truth...and keeps us laughing:)

I praise you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and learned, and revealed them to little children. Matthew 11:25

Who is the man who fears the LORD? He will instruct him in the way he should choose. Psalm 25:11-13

Get wisdom—it's worth more than money; choose insight over income every time. Proverbs 16:15-17

February Podcast: Paula Dawson

Paula is a woman who gives real meaning to the word, sweet. She is kind to the marrow.

Here's a glimpse of her last Friday winning a night out at a happening local nightclub. (who knew?) Spending time with Paula makes me feel like the lucky winner.

On Monday nights, she is found fully engaged in the waiting room at the Music Therapy Center of California. Our own permutation of a support group has resulted from our boys being in The Kingsmen band together. While they rehearse, we (four moms and grandma) talk. It's a sacred time. Paula listens and speaks with style, grace and humor. Never flustered, quick to laugh, always willing to help, Paula is a balm in Gilead.

I consider her an inspiration to the autism community. Last night she was gracious enough to let me ask her a couple questions while recording:

Click Autism Unplugged Paula Dawson.mp3 or the play button below.

I always wanted to do a photo montage of Conor in the famous Fantasia pose we mentioned. His bravado thrills me at every performance.

A Good Trade

He shot off the school bus forcing back tears. Running straight to his room, shutting the door he began an intense conversation with himself. "Mom, stay out I need privacy," may have been shown more clearly than it was said. I kept a distance while he brought a half dozen reusable shopping bags from the garage and filled them with the VCR tapes that line his desk. The self-talk was emotional and heart wrenching:

"Please don't take them away."

"You don't need those anymore."

"You can do it Reid. Just give me a bag."

"Allie I'm so sorry I've wasted your time." sobbing

"Will you forgive me?"

I sat on the stairs interceding, texting my prayer partner, and absorbing the significance of this cathartic scene. It was painful to sit and watch yet, promising. Wondering what had gone down at school that day, I was sure this must be a step in the progressive breakthrough we've been asking for. Victory is coming over the addictions and obsessions Reid battles. I knew for sure I hadn't prompted the video removal this time. It was entirely spontaneous and self-initiated.

As his tears and intensity subsided, I noticed the approaching dinner hour. In the drama, it completely slipped my mind that Tobias, Area Director of our newly launched Young Life Capernaum ministry, was coming at 5:00pm to hang out for their long anticipated "contact" time. Oh boy:/ Finally, now?! How would this possibly play out?

I spared Tobias the blow by blow and began the old spiel I give every first time caregiver and respite worker. Reciting the steps to structured success and doling out $5 for the ritual trip to Roberto's, I paused. Wait! The Spirit prompting me now, Let this be a new leaf. Let me show you the new thing I am doing.

I backed off, "I'll be upstairs if you need me, do whatever you want." Leaving them in the family room with the tv still on, I returned to my prayer stair. Before I knew it my tears started to flow.

Not only did Reid turn off the tv (an unheard of action usually requiring at least 10 minutes of negotiation and transition), but he promptly took the chord charts from Tobias' binder and broke into the purest form of worship this side of the pearly gates.

They continued for an hour through praise song after praise song about God's love. He Knows my Name...How He Loves Us...Mighty to Save...

Like a natural born worship leader, Reid called out lyrics to an invisible audience. Side by side they brought down the presence of the Lord to inhabit the praises of His people.

Those songs of deliverance perfectly timed, were the antidote to Reid's traumatic day, the encouragement of things to come, a replacement for what he laid down, and salve on the wounds of loss represented in those four shopping bags of dvd's.

All I could think of was how that day, that appointment--unbeknownsdt to us--had been ordained long before in order to answer our call for help and give him something better in return for the idols he was casting down.

Relating easily now, he and Tobias made a plan to sing every other Thursday leading others in worship. For such a time as this, Capernaum is in San Diego....and not just for Reid.

The weapons we fight with are not the weapons of the world. On the contrary, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:5

For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this?” Esther 4:13-15

The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to proclaim good news to the poor.
He has sent me...to bestow on them a crown of beauty
instead of ashes,
the oil of joy
instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise
instead of a spirit of despair. Isaiah 61

Sing, Sing a Song, make it anything

Scene from Elf:

Scene at our House:

Mom (from bottom of stairs in a sing song voice): "Good morning, good morning, good morning; it's time to wake up; it's the last day of school before break; it's your day to swim at the Plunge; it's time for breakfast so you don't miss the bus..."

Reid (from upstairs on his feet, entering bathroom): "Stop singing Mom."

The good news: Music motivates. He got up.

The bad news: I do not have a hit single on my hands.

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.

Top 10 Tuesday

Top 1o Things I Appreciate about Reid's New School

10. their intentional "Empathy, Invitation, Plan" approach

9. a preponderance of male staff (which is a subtle but critical component to Reid's adolescence and my husband's engagement)

8. allowance for some naturally occurring elbowing and shoulder tapping (who wants to raise a robot)

7. the "practice makes permanent" (not perfect) ideal

6. true partnership with parents

5. daily interaction with the local community (this is valuable even when it, especially when it breaks down)

4. a careful, positive use of the power of words to affect behavior

3. the cohesive team approach of the staff and students

2. a palpable acceptance kids can feel (which fundamentally enables them to trust teachers enough to be vulnerable and learn)

1. the occasional photo text they send that's worth a thousand words (see left)

Last June when it became obvious we had to find a new placement for Reid, we revisited a place I had loved 3 years prior. Pioneer Day School has only improved since then and retained it's intentionally small size.

The teddy bear of a director sat catty corner from me at a conference table explaining the founding principles of his school. Resisting the urge to hug this man, I leaned back--likely scooched my chair away--so as not to block my husband from catching the full drift of truth he was speaking. I wanted them to relate man-to-man. As Mr. Banks said in Mary Poppins, "Enough of this slipshod, sugary, female way of thinking."

Hearing about empathy, social thinking, music instruction, and kinesthetic learning from a beefy man who's educated dozens of challenging boys is very different than hearing your wife say, "let's wait til he's calm to finish the homework." Jim Leiner described how he trains his teachers to first give empathy (ie. "I know this must be hard for you Billy, math was always difficult for me too"); then offer an invitation ("If you'd like I can show you something I learned that helps); and make a plan ("How 'bout if we do 5 problems today and save the rest for tomorrow?")

In one sitting, what my husband used to perceive as "coddling" became logical, within reason, even wise. We listened (well actually, I nodded like a bobble-headed dashboard ornament) then toured the school. This move would represent a return to our original follow-your-gut instinct on what was best for Reid. By moving him, we would abandon the "research-based," straight behavior mod program for something far more holistic. It was a battle between the head and the heart for both of us.

As we got out to the curb in front of the building, I refrained from jumping for joy. I don't like to stack the deck or be subjective. (ha!) My new intention these days is to submit to my husband's wisdom.

Our other set of eyes was a dear friend Kate, who has credentials up the wazoo from evaluating classrooms around the world for a living. Even at first glance observing the classrooms of Pioneer, Kate noticed countless examples of student work and real curriculum which indicated a place of learning. This was a vivid contrast to the starkness of the previous place where the curriculum really was behavior.

Was it just me? Or was this gonna be unanimous? After giving her professional opinion, Kate asked the obvious, what did I think? As I stifled my enthusiasm still wanting Jim to arrive at his own clarity, she ribbed me with the now infamous line, "He had you at empathy!" She knows me too well.

Confirmation came after the 30-day placement meeting where the aide, director and teacher reported how Reid had taken to this place like a fish to water. The most pleasant surprise was that he had done a page of division problems after being shown and invited to practice. (Another distinction since the previous placement had removed him from the diploma track and all but tabled academics in favor of teaching compliance.)

As we left that meeting my husband elbowed me in the ribs, "ok now I wanna hug the guy!" (I resisted the irony of yapping back, "hands at your side; personal space.")

Top 10 Tuesday

Top 10 Signs it is Time to Change Schools

10. you have to ask them to reinstate a homework binder

9. music and sensory integration are withheld for poor behavior

8. parents are not welcome to observe class

7. school officials do not reply to emails

6. you have a pit in your stomach sending them each morning

5. child's not invited to be in the talent show

4. IEP meetings extend beyond 5 hours

3. you need two hands to count the incident reports

2. student comes home with bruises that match the weave in his sweater

1. child asks, Is God keeping me safe in the belly of the whale, like Jonah?"

'Nuf said. I have much to report and am grappling with how to best do it. Suffice it to say, for now, that we were painfully aware of autism during April's Autism Awareness month. DId you notice my breadcrumbs peter out? July may just as well be New Life Month then, for all the growth God has brought out of the fire we experienced. I am glad to be back in the saddle, writing and looking for His hand at all times.

But now, this is what the LORD says—
he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: "Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Isaiah 43:1-2

How Do We Educate?

Do you have 20 minutes to spend with Sir Ken Robinson? You'll laugh and be inspired to think of intelligence differently.



After absorbing his points and reading Donald Miller's blogpost today, I ask myself, "What if Reid were treated as if he were highly intelligent?"

This afternoon a conference call with the purpley woman....tomorrow a pre-IEP meeting at his school......Winds in the east, mist coming in, like something is brewing, about to begin. Can't put me finger on what lies in store, but I feel what's to happen all happened before...

Two Kinds of Teachers

The centipede Kathryn found in her bed brought this vintage song to mind. A favorite blast from the past, The Inchworm song by Frank Loesser takes me right back to the golden homeschool days of snuggling with my babies on the sofa in our jammies reading Five in a Row classics. Science took us to the duck pond and math meant baking cookies.

Watching it now, underscores the diametrically opposed styles of the two teachers. I feel this tension every time I step foot in Reid's current school, tour an alternate placement, or interview tutors. Even as I navigate daily situations, I face the internal dilemma of prioritizing "instructional control" or following his lead.

Reid's days are spent in a sugar-coated behavior mod hell. But hey, it's scientifically based and proven effective!* Through consistent, direct instruction and follow through they have, in fact, helped Reid establish good student skills and extinguish several maladaptive behaviors. I fear however, that his success there dictates a future in some equally rigid, highly staffed environment, which is not what I envision.

In contrast, this very moment as I peck away, Reid is directing the show with a woman who would fly a kite with Danny Kaye all long as the day was long letting shoes pile up at the cobbler shop. With her, his spirit soars higher than the scarves they are tossing in the air. He chats a blue streak, dances a bi-lateral jig, and otherwise fills our home with unbridled joy. There is cooperation, mutual respect, emotion, and creative output in the form of drawing, singing and art.

Which do you prefer: the pinch-nosed marm reciting times tables behind the shutters or Danny Kaye inspecting inchworms after weaving yarns down on the river bank?

Who would you learn more from? What about your child?

Or do we need some of both? That is my quandry this month friends....

Let the Good Times Roll

Reid is acing his move to the Adolescent Program at his school. Yesterday marked his first full day upstairs with a new Case Manager and several new teachers. This very intentional, gradual transition has been orchestrated over the past 6 months. With his Student of the Week certificate from downstairs still in the backpack, he was ready!

The inaugural call from my new liaison reported some towering high points: Reid is peer-tutoring another student in reading. They were impressed to witness his fast facts on planets and continents. "All the teachers really enjoy him," she confided. And, on his way out of her class he heralded, "Thank you for the great class, Miss L!"

Wow, do I relish these moments as shreds of evidence that I have done something right. My latest mantra is that "manners matter." Lo and behold, he is using them right there at school. Small wonder, he got off the bus last week saying, "Thank you Curt" to the driver. That's my boy.

It's been said, "when Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Around here the reality is, if Reid ain't having a good week, ain't nobody having a good week. The degree and frequency of his symptoms are such that, as much as we try to correct the imbalance, the household can still seem to revolve around his behavior. I know my mood does.

When old behaviors recur, there is the temptation for Jim and I to live on pins and needles communicating anxiously at the end of each day with the precarious question, "how was Reid's day?" Remember the Admiral Boom on his widow's walk in Mary Poppins, "Banks, shouldn't wonder if you weren't steering into a nasty piece of weather..." Suffice it to say, we make up for the lack of weather to report in San Diego.

In the homeschooling days I had this verse stenciled on the wall of our "classroom" to remind me not to base my moods on anything but God's goodness; not to assess the day on anything except how close I was to the Living Water.

He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit."

Jeremiah 17:7-9

When I ask myself if fear takes over in the times of drought (like last month or the time before), I am surely convicted by the answer? Did I bear any fruit? (cringe) Most often, I shrivel up, hibernate, and wait for the "chancy bit of weather to blow over." My friends know when I don't call or answer; you can probably guess when there are no posts. The heat came and I was toast!

Happy times are here again and I am praising God for the evidence of joy and peace and victory in Reid's day (and the rest of ours.) So it is I also realize again the distinction between being thanking for the gifts rather than the Giver. An authentic Christian, doesn't forget in the dark what she knew in the light.

Therapist at Work

I've mentioned that it's been a rough week. It's still raw, but if I wait to summarize it will lack the true grit that I highly esteem.

We're crawling out from under a train wreck of hormones, medication changes, and burgeoning angst. It came to a head last Monday afternoon; Day 8 of what we will now call "the wrong medicine" blew up in all of our faces. Poor Reid landed off the bus in a sobbing pile on our living room loveseat. My heart broke as all he could choke out was, "mommy...i missed the bus...."

That was only the start of the terrible, horrible, no good very bad day. I could tell the whole eight hours must have been coursing through his mind. What just happened?...How did i get here?...What have I done?...I am so glad to be home... I can't do this anymore...all coming out in rare tears from this indefatiguable, exuberant boy with stamina, courage and joy that knows know bounds. He couldn't win over the chemical warfare in his already out of sync body.

I knew most of what had transpired, thanks to a call from school--uncharacteristic aggression, a restraint, a frustrated bus aide yelling reprimands in a German accent--but of course I wasn't there. Push had come to shove at a school where they don't dance around lines in the sand once they're drawn. I'd only witnessed the beginning at 7:07 that morning:

A substitute driver stuck strictly to his time chart and drove away from our open garage door. In my pajamas and Kat's Beetle (mine in the shop), we chased him down to the next pick up in Del Mar. I can't say for sure if he saw my frizzy bedhead as I stood waving frantically in my bright orange paisley flannel bottoms, no bra and a t-shirt, but I felt hard to miss. He drove off AGAIN as Reid zipped up his backpack with one foot on the running board.

Appalled, I joked through the surging adrenaline, "OMG! I can't believe this guy. The nerve. HA! We are gonna catch that bus!" In good spirits taking it in stride, Reid said, "Mom at Austin's house I am going to get out the fast way! My backpack is ready. I'm right on target." At the off ramp of the 56 in Carmel Valley now (still closer than driving to school which is 30 minutes away), I pulled up next to the bus and motioned in an angry charade that he better wait this time. The guy was close to comatose which gave me that sickening feeling of negligence that I even put my kid in his charge. How did we get here?

Back in the brokenhearted moment I cried with Reid, "Oh baby, it's not our fault. It's the wrong medicine. We know that now. I am SO sorry. No more of it. You can stay home tomorrow. We will figure this out." I am so sorry, so very sorry. How can I make it right. The tears are still right here. How can I spare him this? Confusion. Remorse. Out of control. Haywire.

By 4:30 as I glanced out the back window from my piano lesson to see him throwing sand at the hedge, it seemed like improvement. A minor offense at this point and maybe an effective way to vent the stress of the day. I called to him as usual, "your turn with Angela now, Reid."

No reply. Did I see him come in? Check upstairs. Oscar's can? One more loop. "Jim, Reid's gone." In quick reply, all five of us--Kat, Allie, and Angela in heels, fanned out calling "Reid, say 'here i am' Reeeid!

Allie and Kat to the neighbors who have Apple TV. Not there.

Jim up the street on a bike to ones who own Sound of Music.

Finally over the back fence we heard him answer my plea, "here i am" A second reply several minutes later enabled Jim to zero in on him in the cul de sac

below our back enbankment.

Long story short, we urged his distraught body home having averted any trespassing violation. He was crying again in his lower bunk, aware that dad was angry. Now poor Angela, the music therapist cum piano teacher cum friend of the family cum fellow sojourner in the way, would have to pick up the pieces and salvage the remainder of their session. (Had she been a stickler for time, it would have been over.)

She had already earned her keep with Allie in the foyer empathizing over sibling memories of her brother with Angelman syndrome. She has been there! And is there for each of us in unique ways. She's comfortable enough in our house and was going to have better luck at this point than any of us. So, without words, she went into his room to work her therapeutic magic. The rest of us just listened and learned through the walls.

"Reid, Kingsmen is tonight. the band needs you. you're such an important part of the band. we need to practice that new song. do you think i could sing you part of it to you?" She began to sing the Beatles song they're preparing, leaving out key words which he filled in. Then suggesting that maybe it would sound better with the piano downstairs, they rallied to the bench. Order restored for the time being.

Crouched in the living room praying in a private language for peace, wisdom, some end to this... I realized they'd switched gears and were singing Sara Groves' "He's Always Been Faithful."

He has always been faithful. As I tuned in, I realized we were both getting the therapy. Angela has an intuitive way of picking songs that scratch the itch and allow the Spirit to move through the music without agenda but with definite purpose.

Last week, she'd blessed me in a different way with a VIP ticket to the American Music Therapy Association conference. It was a thrill to be close enough to touch Nathaniel Anthony Ayers, The Soloist, hear him perform, and meet his sister the next morning. Steve Lopez spoke on the panel also (more to come on this experience). He recapped Mr. Ayer's progress since the time that the book and movie came out saying that he is still not on any medicine that would fix it or clear it all away. Lopez has learned to think in terms of recovery rather than cure. Recovery defined as learning about the condition and functioning with purpose.

Then the profound clincher that compelled me to borrow a pencil from my neighbor, "I like to think that the music is the medicine. The Walt Disney Hall is the hospital. And the musicians are the doctors."

Amen brother! That has been my experience too.

We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. ¹We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. 2 Corinthians 4:8-10

May God himself, the God of peace, sanctify you through and through. The one who calls you is faithful and he will do it. Brothers, pray for us. 1 Thessalonians 5:23-25

Whenever the spirit from God came upon Saul, David would take his harp and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him. 1 Samuel 16:22-23

Parents Rule!

Kids drool? well, not exactly.

On an hour respite from a trying Thanksgiving weekend, Allie, Kat and I discovered these bracelets. We each picked a different inspirational mantra that suited us perfectly. They seemed custom made expressing our individual approach to all that life was dishing out in the moment. The serendipitous finding buoyed us through the rest of the day affirming our particular piece in the family puzzle.

Allie's says this:

Kathryn's said "Don't Settle for Less."

and mine:

Riding out a wave of medication, scary behavior, and holiday expectations had me feeling like the kindergarten Dutch boy with his finger in the dike determined to hold back the sea. Impossible and solely my responsibility. Now, Monday morning, I am grateful to run across this draft of a post which reminds me of parents who've gone before and Redefined the Impossible...a future for kids.

Check out Berkshire Hills Music Academy, an incredible post-secondary school in a collegiate setting for young adults with disabilities to pursue their musical passion. Living in dorms with support, they learn life skills and academics in a music-infused curriculum. I love the sound of that! And the fact that they take it to the streets and perform in the community. How did it come to be? Parents founded it. Out of necessity, no doubt.

Another example you may have seen last month in Wired, is of Thorkil Sonne, a parent, who formed an IT consulting firm in Denmark called Specialisterne that trains employers how to maximize the unique talents and productivity of Aspies.

My friend, Jody Mlynek created Logan's Friends to help churches around the country be more inclusive. Her business was born through her experience starting a program to serve her own son, Logan.

Do you know others?

In most cases, a parent has the greatest motivation to ensure his child's future. Many fabulous tutors and therapists have circulated through our home, but you know what? They keep leaving to get married, have babies, or get Ph.D's. We remain. I was feeling the weight this weekend of having the kid only a mother could love. It's heavy. And I do. Undoubtedly, parents have the strongest love and most relentless pursuit for their kids' potential.

Indeed, our Father in Heaven has an undying hope for our future. Since He created us, knows us best, and delights in each of us, He is absolutely the one most inspired to prosper us, see that our joy is complete, and give us hope. His is the best plan of redemption for our permanent future: not a special school but a mansion with many rooms awaits. He went to great pains to get us there. He sacrificed a piece of Himself to make it possible. He designed Plan B when Plan A didn't work. He never leaves us or forsakes us.

What a role model. Parents rule. God reigns!

The hired hand is not the shepherd who owns the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. John 10:11-13

How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are! 1 John 3:1-3

For nothing is impossible with God. Luke 1:36-38