Peace and Happiness

A week ago, we visited with a family who are long-time members of Antioch, the ecumenical community we are part of here in England. Both of their children have specials needs, and the older one has Aspergers, which is what B is suspected to have.

It was refreshing to be with people we didn't have to explain ourselves to. They knew how it felt to be told that one's child has an incurable pervasive developmental disorder. They had felt the same grief, faced the same fears, withstood the same pain. But they also shared our hope, our joys, our toil, our gratitude to God for His unending miracles. We have been loved and consoled by family and friends, yes, but it is different to be with parents who share what we go through each day. There is so much to be said, but also so much that need not be said.

As we swapped stories, we watched the four children playing in the garden, bouncing on the huge trampoline, sliding onto a paddling pool, playing football and riding kiddie cars. We could see nothing wrong with them, really. They played with each other really well. They did pretend games, talked, laughed, got silly with each other and shared toys. It was amazing. It was as if they somehow KNEW they were akin to one another, that they BELONGED together, that they could relax and not be afraid of being teased or of being different, that they were meant to be FRIENDS. It was an astounding thing to see.

And we shared our reflections on God's power in our children's lives, how He had really proved textbooks and doctors wrong, how our experience of ASD/Aspergers had affected our whole paradigm towards parenting and what really matters, what we REALLY want our children to learn from us. We were inspired by this family, this couple who trust God with their children's future, no matter what. They have a peace that just diffuses from their faces. They just quietly shine with a glow that says, We will not be moved, we shall not be shaken, there is nothing that is too big for our God to handle. Their peace moves me. When my world is shaken again, I hope I will be lucid enough to remember this couple's serenity, and to draw strength from their witness.

Some weeks ago, B was visited by an educational psychologist, a Mr Ashton-Jones. Among other things, he assessed B's emotional status, how B perceives himself emotionally at this point in his life. Mr A-J showed us a drawing of a tree with several stick-figure children on it, doing different things, in different parts of the tree, with different facial expressions or body positions. He had asked B where he was, who he was in the tree diagram, and B had readily pointed to a child standing halfway up the tree, not at the top, not at the bottom, but right smack in the middle of the vertical axis. The stick-figure he chose was standing on a stable ledge, with both his feet securely planted on a level surface on the tree. It was happy, with a smiling face. Mr A-J said it meant that B saw himself as right in the middle of the group as far as his peers are concerned, not at the top but not at the bottom, either. And that he saw himself as standing on safe ground, stable and secure. And that he was happy with his life, happy in school, happy with himself. This was more than enough to move me. I felt tears welling up but I managed to keep them in.

And then he told us that he had asked B which child he wanted to be in the picture. He wanted to know what B wanted for himself, what he was hoping for. Mr A-J showed us B's choice: a child happily, crazily swinging on a swing which was tied to a branch of the tree. And he told us, B just wants to have fun, he wants to be happy, he simply wants to enjoy his life. My heart just swelled with joy upon knowing that at his age, B knows what's important-- it is not to be at the top, or to be famous or popular, or to be really good at everything he does. He just wants to have fun, like a child on a swing, no fears, no cares, no complications. He wants to go through life laughing, with joy and abandon.

I fought to keep my tears at bay, but had no such luck.