When Noah Speaks Wisdom

Noah forced HIS hand today.  In the process, he spoke volumes of  10 year old wisdom into my life.

For the past two years, the ministry center I volunteer with has partnered with two local hospice chapters to facilitate a family grief day camp.  This is a one-day event for children and their parents/guardians who have lost a loved one.  It is a spectacular day, full of all kinds of wonderful things (I won't lie to you--some of the kids don't want to be there when they arrive in the morning, but we see some great changes throughout the day) and terrific people.  I have gone to help out with the children and some of the behind-the-scenes organization.  It's one of the things I love the most about our center.  When the date was announced for this year's camp, I signed up again with hesitation: as a volunteer.


A child's diagnosis of AS can make a parent really kind of dumb sometimes.  When my grandfather died, I didn't think clearly.  Because of Avery's age and Noah's AS, I have made most of the grieving about me.  I have forgotten that my children have also suffered a deep loss.  The day Denny died, Noah looked at me and asked, "What will Avery and I do now?"  My heart cried in anguish and even though I already knew it, I asked him to tell me what he meant.  He went on to explain, "Now that Denny is gone, Avery and I don't have a grandfather."  My son is correct.  My father and Shawn's father are not in the picture and even if they were, they are not good influences for our children.  Sadly, we have had to actively make the choice that even if our fathers wanted to be involved, they would not be allowed.  My paternal grandfather has never met my children and even though we keep in touch, he does not play an active role in our lives.  My sons have suffered as much loss as I have.  However, thinking with an AS brain, it didn't really occur to me that Noah was feeling much loss.  He didn't cry when we told him Denny died.  In fact, he had asked what was for breakfast after declaring that Denny had been healed by the hand of God and was in a better place!

Today was quite possibly the biggest blow I've been dealt in this grief process.  While at work, my son brought the Family Grief Camp application to me and said he wanted to sign up.  Thinking he meant he wanted to volunteer, I told him we'd have to talk to Miss Sue, our volunteer coordinator.  Noah looked at me with a look I seldom see on his face and said, "No Mom.  I really miss Denny.  We need to go to this."  It was a tidbit of normal that I didn't really want (usually they make me smile).  I held onto him for a few minutes while we both cried and let it all out.


So, this year, if you see me at camp, I am stepping out of my shoes as a volunteer and into a different role:  The one of the mom of a grieving child who has lost his great-grandfather.


*Just in case you are wondering about the rest of the conversation I had with Noah pertaining to grandfathers, we are praying for "a Denny" for him and Avery.  I reminded him that Denny was a gift to me, not my original grandfather.  He was given to me after my grandfather died and has been my grandfather ever since.  So, if anyone knows of a gentleman looking to adopt two very special grandsons, let him know where he can interview and fill out the application!  :)*

How Do You Spell A-M-A-Z-I-N-G?

That might sound like a dumb question.  You're thinking, "Well, Amy's spellcheck must be broken.  Time for her to buy the newest edition of Webster's."  Or maybe you're thinking I really shouldn't be homeschooling my children if I can't spell such simple words!

--THINK DEEPER--

Lately, I've been spelling AMAZING, G-O-D-'S - G-R-A-C-E.  I see His amazing grace everywhere.  When my single mom friends balance their checkbooks down to the last penny and one child needs lunch money that another child manages to pull out of the couch cushions, I see His grace.  When another single mom friend had a bill she didn't know how she was going to pay and found random money in the bottom of her purse--almost to the amount she needed--I see His grace (yes, I call that God, not luck).  When we were told that between the illnesses and meds, there wouldn't be anymore babies, then we were heard that sweet word,  REMISSION, then that even sweeter cry of a newborn baby who wasn't supposed to be and as I watch Avery plow through life ("HULK SMASH!"), I see His grace.  When my feet hit the floor in the morning without the help of my husband, I see His grace.   When I see the look of sheer delight on Noah's face while he sits on top of Molly, conquering AS one day at a time, I see his grace.  When I go to bed at night knowing all is right with my world, I see His grace.  

Easter is upon us and it gets me thinking about everything Jesus went through for me and how often I take it for granted.  It gets me thinking about how much I take God's grace for granted.  I am ashamed and embarrassed by my behavior.  There is a song out right now and one of the lyrics just really slammed me: "I am the nails in your wrist, yet you love me anyway."  WOW.  Of all the blessings and gifts I have been given, above all else, I was given LIFE, and not just any old life, but ETERNAL LIFE.  Not only was I given it, I accepted it and pledged to live a life that shows it.  As the saying goes, time the buck up, babe.  

I'm sure at times I sound like a broken record, but most of you don't know me from when I was really, down and dirty sick.  I lost a LOT and I came close to losing even more.  And when I look at what I've gained in its place, I can't help but be
AWE-stuck.  AH-mazed.  AWE-mazed.  

So, tell me:  How do you spell A-M-A-Z-I-N-G?

We Pass This Way But Once

*Disclaimer: I don't normally feel the need to share these kinds of stories, but I've been laughing about it ever since Friday and everyone else I've told has been laughing about it, so for whatever reason, I am sharing a fart story.  Please forgive me!*

I love our pediatrician.  She completely gets my off-the-wall sense of humor and has always taken my maternal neuroses with a grain of salt.   She is also a practicing Christian, which has become more and more important to me over the last several years. We get along well.

I had to take Avery in last week for a double ear infection.  He had been running a fever on and off throughout the week, so he hadn't been eating, which also meant there hadn't been any action in his diaper, if you catch my drift.  As his doctor and I were sitting knee to knee while she examined him, Avery sitting on my lap, my son proceeded to let out the longest and loudest gaseous explosion I have heard in my life.  He batted his little baby blues the way he does when he's doing something he knows  he shouldn't be doing.  All we could do was wait it out.  His doctor rolled her stool back a little bit (she is not phased by anything), raised her eyebrows and said, "Are you finished yet?"  I really expected him to put his finger up in a "hold on a minute" motion at this point.  Avery finally heaved a huge sigh (including his shoulders) and said, "Niiiice."  Gee, I don't know where he learned THAT from.

Our pediatrician burst into laughter, tears rolling down her face and apologized to me, saying, "I'm sorry, I can't help it!  It's been a long day and this was just too much!"  Our pediatrician's long day was 11:30 in the morning.  She was laughing so hard she could barely finish Avery's examination.  I could still hear her giggling when she left our room and telling the nurses the story as we left.   For once, I was glad for gross bodily functions.

I admit it, I am completely powerless
against this little face!

This Week vs. Last Week: Perspectives

I have to say, when it comes to husbands, I'm very blessed.  BEYOND blessed.  Recognizing how badly last week went for me, Shawn was quick to help me out this week.  God bless the dear man, he did his best to make sure I got plenty of Me Time.  He's probably afraid of having to permanently admit me to a hospital and raise our lovable little hellions on his own.  :)  I have to laugh when I hear my grandmother's recent words echoing in my head.  She was commenting on how good Shawn is as a dad and a husband, how quick he is with his 'duties' and how much he loves his family.  We were talking about how they just don't make daddies and husbands like they used to (thank you, God!).  Then she said, "I just don't know how you got so lucky!" I love my grandmother dearly and I had to laugh at her word choice and voice intonation.  I know that wasn't how she meant it, but lately, I have been thinking to myself--how on earth did I get so lucky???  Like most couples, we have our moments, but it's seldom us against each other, it's almost always us against the rest of the world (and on some nights, us against the children!).

We've been short-staffed this week at the ministry center I volunteer with, so when I was offered some work to do on Shawn's WFH day, he helped me jump at the chance, keeping the boys home with him and teasing me to not spin gravel in the driveway on my way out.  I always do better when I have a chance to think outside of myself.  Avery has been running fevers on and off this week (double ear infections, hell-o, Mommy!), one of the days on my usual Thursday volunteer day.  While I showered, contemplating either trying to get a sick toddler past the daycare teachers (wrong, wrong, WRONG!) or taking Avery with me long enough to throw the food on the counter and the quiche in the oven for someone else to take out, Shawn came in to tell me he'd called in sick to stay home with Avery.  He'd decided my non-paying, volunteer job was more important that morning.   Shawn also made sure I made it to Ladies, Legs and Lattes this morning:  girl time with my two good friends for pedicures and coffee, which I am seldom able to do.   Earlier in the week, he asked if it would be easier for me if he started taking Noah to his horseback riding lessons, but I said that I don't mind.  It took me a few hours, replaying the conversation a few times, to realize it was his way of telling me he wanted to do it.  I realized he needs to see his son doing something happy and successful. So, we're going to do it the way we do everything else:  As a family.  How can I not love him?!

I was also able to sit down and talk with one of my good friends and fellow staffers at our ministry center about the GriefShare class we offer.  I fully recognize that I am grieving the loss of my grandfather.  It's difficult; some days are better than others.  What I haven't been able to recognize is that I need to take this class.  I've taken it before, so I've been telling myself that I don't need it because I already know everything (and I wonder where Noah gets it from).  Well, sometimes we all need a refresher course.  So, I'm at the "talking about taking the class" stage.  Trying to figure out how to fit it in with doctors appointments, OT, playgroups and everything else.  Trying to figure out what to do with my lovable little hellions.  Yes, I am fully aware of the phrase, "where there's a will, there's a way."   Let me talk about taking it for a few more weeks.  This is me working up to it to doing more than talking about it.

My appointment with my neurologist was a little frustrating.  He wanted to increase the prednisone (for those of you have never been on it, it's a great little wonder drug, but the side effects can often be worse than what ails you) and I begged him not to.  It has turned me from a slight, run-of-the-mill lunatic into a stark, raving mad lunatic.  And it's made me very hungry. In case he wasn't getting my point, I said, "Gee, your office chair looks yummy."  "So we're not increasing the prednisone?"  No, Dr O, we're not increasing the prednisone.  He also wants to do a full body and brain scan, which amounts to a fishing expedition and since I am not a fisher-woman, I declined for the time being.  More blood work and the usual "Keep hanging in there!"  *sigh*  Funny thing about being a stark, raving mad lunatic.  I recently had someone comment on how emotional I've been and ask if I could be pregnant.  I did my best to be nice, I really did.  I tried to remember the source, I really did.  Then I just blew a gasket on the poor soul and reminded the person that I am on chemo and prednisone (among other serious medications), I just had my child diagnosed with AS, we're still searching for more answers and solutions for him and oh yes, my grandfather also died.  NO, I AM NOT PREGNANT!  FORGIVE ME IF I'M A BIT EMOTIONAL RIGHT NOW!  *ahem*

Shawn and I are talking about marriage counseling.  Not because we desperately need it or because we're in dire straights:  But because we don't want to get to that point.  Did you know the survival rate for a marriage with a child on the spectrum is only 25%?  When the divorce rate in this country is already 50% and Autism in the family increases the chance by another 25%, that's really, really scary.  We've already survived a lot and we just want to make sure we have the tools to survive the rest of what's thrown at us ( if you can dodge a wrench....   Quick!  Ten points to the person who gets that completely out of left field movie reference!!!!).  This is us providing not just for our future, but our family's future, too.  We want to make sure it's always us against the world.  Shawn asked me if I thought our marriage was "that bad" that we need counseling and it surprised me.  We have our ups and downs, but I've never thought of it as "that bad."  I told him no, I just want to make sure it doesn't get "that bad."  It's scary to think about.

Our church's children's ministry put on a spectacular multi-sensory event last night titled, "Journey to the Cross" for the families, which we went to together.  There is an upcoming baptism class for the children that Noah is interested in (my heart is dancing!), so we really made Noah think about each room we entered, really peppered him with questions and didn't settle for the usual "I don't know."  We wanted him to THINK about what Jesus did for us.  Even though Avery wasn't feeling well, he seemed to enjoy being out, then we had a good time on the drive home, too.

I was able to talk with some of the other moms in Noah's social skills class today, too.  That was extremely helpful for me.  I'm always picking other people's brains to find out what has worked for their children and what hasn't.  Shawn and I tried attending a local autism support group and while it was good for us, we felt like intruders.  Noah is on the very mild end of things and these parents had a lot more issues than we will ever deal with.  Talking with these other parents today in our own little impromptu support group was good for me.

And best of all, Asperger's did not leave me lonely on the hour trip to Noah's social skills class today, like it normally does.  Instead, Noah and I had one of our deep talks that I enjoy so much and always hope for (prompted by him!).  It was his turn to pepper me with questions.  He always has such good ones and I love these talks with him.  They connect us as mother and son and get me through until the next rare occasion.

Sooo...  Perspectives.  This is my lesson for the week.  These storms may pass, but unfortunately, there will always be more.  These are the storms in which we learn to dance.  Not to hide, not to put up umbrellas, not to curl up in the fetal position and cry (no matter how badly I want to).  It may not be a graceful or beautiful dance, but it is one we make our OWN.  We learn to take the hands of our loved ones and DANCE OUR HEARTS OUT, no matter who is watching (it just might be our children, this just might be a teaching moment...).  I don't know how I got so lucky, but I do know that if weren't for the storms, I wouldn't know how to dance.  Amen?  A-MEN.

Who's Your Daddy? (Laying Down Your Burdens)

I'm one of those 34 year old little girls with issues.  I'm sure you've figured that out already.  For the most part, I grew up in a loving home.  I believe my parents did the best they could with what they had (don't tell my mother I said that; she still thinks I'm rebelling).  However, I still have issues.  No, I wasn't abused by my dad (thankfully).  In some ways though, it was worse.  I wouldn't say he was necessarily neglectful, but definitely absent.  Even when he was home, he was emotionally gone.  My dad was a military man (USMC, oo-RAH!), so he was seldom home.  Still, I had it better than some of our military friends.  We were stationed stateside, traveled very little and never saw overseas time (as a family).  For years, we blamed his emotional absenteeism on his time in Vietnam, but now that we know about the Autism/Asperger factor in our family, it makes me and my mom very curious.

My parents divorced several years ago.  Even though, in reality, it should not have taken any of us by surprise, it rocked my world.  I knew my parents had problems, but I thought they were workable.  Certainly, this was just my stubborn mother's way of getting my father's attention?  Nope.  She was dead serious.  She was gone.  It was nasty and it tore our family apart.  My sister and I have never had the relationship I've wanted us to have, my marriage was not unshakable and I was getting really sick really fast.  My mother moved back to Maine and I moved on with picking up the pieces of my father and what was left here in Virginia.  I didn't have much of a support system and I wasn't sure which end was up.  My dad moved into the city, closer to his job and came out here to stay with us on the weekends because he didn't know what else to do with himself.  Not knowing how to be on his own, Dad quickly started dating online.  As quickly as he started dating, he married a woman I did not approve of.  Neither did she like me, so I was not told about their wedding until several months after the fact (not even by my sister or my father's family).  Long story short, my father and I have not spoken in over 6 years.  He made the choice between his daughter and grandson (there was only Noah at the time) or his new wife.  To the best of my knowledge, he does not know about Avery (although I'm sure his family has told him).  While it is painful for me at times (and my children, who do not understand the abandonment), I have to realize that if he were still in my life, it would not be a healthy relationship (especially now that it includes his wife) for me or my children.  I have prayed for years to be able to see my father as human, to be able to forgive him.  Hopefully someday, I will.

All of that is background for the "real" story.

Please don't feel sorry for me.  I told you that as background, not as a sob story.  I had to learn and come of age with my earthly father so I can truly grow with my Heavenly Father.  It hit me like a ton of bricks one day in church a few years ago.  A friend of mine was singing with only an acoustic guitar as her background (which, with her voice, is simply a beautiful mix).  The song was Amy Grant's "Lay Down (The Burden of Your Heart)."  For me, this is a very emotional song.  Here is the chorus:

Lay down the burden of your heart

I know you’ll never miss it

Show your Daddy where it hurts

And let your Daddy lift it

Listening to my friend sing this song (almost a lullaby for me), sobbing silently, I felt at peace and weird, all at the same time.  A new reality hit me:  I had been asking the wrong daddy to fix things all my life.  A calm swept over me as I realized that my Heavenly Father is the only one who will never disappointment me (that's not to say I always agree with Him!): HE is my Daddy.  HE is the only one I can rely on and He will never abandon me.  I wanted to smack my forehead (DUH!): I'd been looking at things all wrong.  He calls me princess, daughter, beloved, beautiful.  He values me, He sent His only begotten son to die on the cross for me, He created me in His image.  He knows what is best for me and plans accordingly for my life.  He has walked these paths ahead of me and would not ask anything of me that He does not believe I am not strong enough to handle without His help.   He is my provider, my comforter, my healer.  He loves ME. What a startlingly new reality for me.  Likewise, even though my boys have a very wonderful earthly father, God is also their Daddy.  We're in this together.  God is the Ultimate Parent.


Last week was a rough one for me.  The past few weeks have been rough for me.  I've been going to churches for years, but I've never thought of my priests and pastors as anything other than that:  priests and pastors.  Last week my pastor sought me out to ask how I've been doing.  Not only that, he grabbed me up in a big bear hug and prayed over me after I broke down crying when he asked how I was doing and I couldn't answer him with words.  He held on to me until I was okay, then told me that not only is he the pastor of our wonderful church, but he likes to think of himself as the dad of the church and the women as his daughters, myself included.  This gentle man has not known me long enough or well enough to possibly know my daddy issues, but his simple statement went right to my heart.  Once again, I knew we'd chosen the right church for our family.

Do my daddy issues with my earthly father still pop up?  Absolutely.  I'd be lying if I told you otherwise.  I pray that someday I'll be able to go to bed one night not having thought of him that day, wondering if he has thought of me that day, knowing that most likely he hasn't.  I pray that with time, peace will fill over the hole in my heart and ease the ache.  I pray that I will find ways to ease the ache of abandonment that my sons feel and don't understand.  I pray I will be able to let go of the anger I feel each time I am reminded that for whatever reason, Noah blames himself that my father left us.  I pray that my family and I can finally heal these wounds.  I often wonder what I'd do if I were to pick up the ringing phone or answer the door to find him on the other end.  Reality tells me I don't have to worry about knowing the answer because neither will ever happen.  He has moved on and I need to do the same.  So, I'm moving on with God--My Daddy--whom I have promised to praise in the good and in the bad, and who has promised to always be with me and my sons.  Thank you, God, for loving us and for being our Daddy.


I tried to find a video for Lay Down (the Burden of Your Heart) because you really have to hear it, rather than read the lyrics, for the full effect.  Unfortunately, I gave up after an hour of searching.  I did find another link that you can listen to, though.  I hope you will take the time to listen to this song.  So, sit back, turn up the volume, close your eyes and enjoy!

http://new.music.yahoo.com/amy-grant/tracks/lay-down-the-burden-of-your-heart--178513633

A Horse Named Molly

I'm in love with a horse named Molly. 

In the last three months, since Noah's diagnosis with Asperger's Syndrome, we've met with numerous doctors and therapists.  We've been in occupational therapy since his diagnosis and social skills therapy before his diagnosis, are still waiting to be approved for physical therapy and have been denied for speech therapy.  We're on a waiting list for a second opinion (routine stuff), we're fighting with insurance over the speech therapy denial and are exploring other avenues of help for our son. We've pulled him from private school and begun homeschooling him.  We have read every resource we can get our hands on and picked the brains of everyone we can find.

We want to see improvements, we want to see something worth getting excited about.  Instead, we see more setbacks, more frustrations and no improvements.  We haven't dared to get excited about anything.

--UNTIL TODAY--

Noah had his first therapeutic horseback riding lesson today.  With all due respect to my husband (who is a really great dad), Shawn has not been able to get himself worked up about trying this latest avenue for Noah (he freely admits this).  He had to take Noah this morning because I had a doctor's appointment that conflicted with the timing of Noah's lesson.  It was the best thing that could have happened!   The excitement in my husband's voice and the look on his face are things I can't convey in writing, but it was amazing!  Both Shawn and Noah were so animated about it!  And the change in Noah today has been astonishing.  We did not have a single problem with him all day long.  He was calm, he followed directions, he listened, he didn't have a problem settling down for schoolwork, he played with Avery and was just a completely different child the rest of the day.  He was happy and agreeable.  He was able to stay on task and concentrate.  He even reacted quickly, when, unbeknownst to either of us, Avery had wandered behind Shawn's car as he was backing out of the garage.  Normally, Noah doesn't react to these sorts of emergencies.  Today, Noah grabbed his brother right out of danger in the nick of time, yelling to Shawn at the same time so Shawn was able to react in time.  Monday nights are usually interesting for Noah; a friend of mine comes over with her two boys for dinner and Noah acts like a wild man.  Tonight, he was calm and relatively collected.  He played an entire board game with his friends without trying to change the rules to suit himself, without a temper tantrum, without giving up halfway through and remaining relatively calm but having fun.  Shawn and I couldn't believe what we were watching.  Was this really our Noah?  Is it possible that we have finally found the 'magic button' for Noah?  Do we dare get our hopes up and get excited about this after only one lesson?  We desperately want to, myself especially.  Seeing how excited Shawn is (the man who refuses to get excited about anything), it's difficult for me to not get excited.  Shawn said Noah looked like a natural sitting on Molly.  Have we finally found something that Noah is naturally good at, something he will thrive in, something he loves and enjoys?

We found this equine therapy center through a friend at our church, who is an instructor there and is now Noah's instructor there as well.  I emailed her on a whim, knowing she rides horses, wondering if she knew of anyplace nearby that had a therapeutic facility.  I had no idea she's an instructor.  Not only is she an instructor, she's a teacher with a special education background.  We found out that after I submitted Noah's application, the waiting list jumped to 120 applicants. It's all fallen into place so easily. I have to believe that God led us here.  This is where God wants Noah to be, this is where things are going to happen for him.  I have to believe this is our chance at hope for our son.

Thank you, Molly.  Keep up the good work!

World Autism Day

April 2 has taken on a new meaning in our family.  Yesterday we observed World Autism Day, now that we have officially welcomed Asperger's into our lives.  It's one of those days that snuck up on us. Although the fact is, it's been living with us for years.  Autism Awareness Month has a whole new meaning for our family.

It's been a rotten week for me.  Asperger's (with a little help from life in general) has kicked my butt from east to west.  I really don't know how moms with more autism in their lives do it because I've completely forgotten how to laugh this week.  I've been frustrated and angry, not with Noah, but with AS.  I'm angry with what I feel has been stolen from me and I'm frustrated for what my son goes through.  He deserves better than what I have been able to give him, especially this week.  I'm exhausted and frustrated by life in general, concerned for my mom and grandmother, still grieving over the loss of my grandfather, I'm frustrated for my son, my health is continuing to decline, and my meds are taking their own toll.  Depression has made a nest in my brain and my body.  And that feels like just the tip of the iceberg.  Frankly, I am surprised to still be standing after these past four weeks.  I am just plain worn out and in need of a break.  I'm feeling very weary, burdened and defeated.  But I have to keep moving because I'm the mom and this is what I'm supposed to do.


Saturday I felt like I had a pretty good handle on things.  Better than the rest of the week, anyway.  Until I got to the grocery store, was flipping through my grocery notebook and found a note that I'd written to myself several months ago to send pictures of the kids and notes to Denny.  I felt like I'd walked face-first into a concrete wall.  I couldn't help it, I just started sobbing in the middle of the store.  Poor Avery, sitting there in the cart, looking at me and asking, "Mommy?  Mommy?"  The week just caught up with me.  The enormity of all my responsibilities, the importance of the meaning of World Autism Day, and then finding the note to myself.  So, what happened next?  My guardian angel showed up.  She's the mom of one of my high school friends and has shown up twice to rescue Avery and me from disastrous grocery shopping trips.  The first time was right after Noah's diagnosis.  I'm sure my friend would find it amusing that I think of her mom as my guardian angel, but we live on similar planets.  She's raised (is still raising) a daughter with Down's Syndrome.  I don't share details with her mom, I keep it general, but just seeing her and knowing that someone else out there cares enough to stop and talk to me helps.  Mrs H, if you ever read this, thank you for caring and thank you for being my guardian angel.  You have no idea how much just your presence helped calm me yesterday.

Today, our church's children's ministry marked Autism Awareness Month by holding an Autism Awareness Workshop.   I'm very proud of our church and very grateful to our leaders for doing this. It was difficult for me to sit through and I had to keep wiping tears as I listened to the specialist describe my child.   Fortunately, I was with good people: children's ministry leaders and other parents who are on my planet, so it was okay (given how teary I've been all weekend and that I sobbed during church, I'm surprised I did as well as I did during the presentation! Yay me!).  We're one of the few churches in the area with a ministry specifically designed and trained to aide children with special needs so they can participate in the children's ministry activities while their parents attend praise and worship, worry-free.  Being a part of such an accepting church has made things with Noah's diagnosis much easier.  Knowing that he is Noah, and not "that ill-behaved child," or Asperger #1, has helped all of us.  Noah's case is mild enough that he is not officially part of the special-needs ministry (in need of an aide), but knowing that his Sunday School leaders are educated and trained to handled anything that may come their way because of him is a comfort.  Knowing that our church leaders and the congregation as a whole are educated and that Noah's behavior doesn't raise many eyebrows is a comfort. To belong to a church family where people do their best to understand Noah and his behaviors (instead of questioning me about the dosages of medications he's not on and if they should be increased) is powerful.

I'm still learning to embrace AS and everything that goes with it.  I've lived with it for Noah's entire life, but didn't know what to call it (well, I did, I just didn't want to.  Denial is a terrible thing to do to your child.).  Now I know he couldn't help it.  I'm trying to help him.  So this month, I'm lighting a blue light in my heart for my son because I love him dearly, he means the world to me and I will do everything and anything I have to do to help him through this.

For more information on Autism and Asperger's Syndrome, please visit these sites:
http://www.autismspeaks.org/
http://www.autism-society.org/
http://www.lightitupblue.org/