The Daddy Monologues (A Guest Post by the Hubs)

My husband has graciously agreed to write a guest post today (or three guest posts, apparently).  He works in the tax field as an enrolled agent (although he has a seminary degree) and we've been married for over 14 years (or, as I think of it, forever). Carl is a cool guy, a fabulous daddy, a great husband, plus very smart, and has great taste (Just look at who he married).  
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Sharon asked me to write an edition of her blog and since tax season is finally over, I now have time to do it.  You might be thinking that I will be writing about what it is like to be a father of autistic children.  I do not know if I can write something so grand and far reaching.  My experience is also probably not typical.  After all, I am not just an average father of average autistic and non-autistic children, I am Carl Peterson the husband of Sharon and the father of Daniel, Ben, Gideon, and Katherine.  So I have decided to write about my own experience, my own fears and joys through my own failures and victories.   

And that is what it is all about.  My little, okay not so little (in every way), family is unique.  All our families are unique.  God has designed it that way.  We are made up of different individuals with different likes and dislikes.   

Daniel has always loved the ABC’s.  One of my favorite memories of Daniel was writing the ABC’s and simple words (like hippopotamus) in chalk on the back of our first Houston house.  We loved to go through the whole alphabet, spelling a word for each letter.  Sharon and I had so much hope when we had Daniel that turned to fear when we learned he had autism.  Daniel has surpassed more than just our fears.  He has gone past what we knew to hope for.  

Benjamin is one caring dude.  He has a heart as big as Texas.  I do not know for sure if this was caused through his experiences with his brothers or it was just a God given gift.  I think it's a little of both.  I love his heart.  One of my favorite memories of Ben was the time we were driving somewhere and he asked me if we could have a conversation about trucks.  The next 30 minutes I told Ben all about the many different kinds of trucks, from pick-ups to semis, from dump trucks to cement mixers.  Ben wanted to know everything. He's very inquisitive.  He loves his siblings so much.  I believe if we asked each of them who their best friend was, the answer would be unanimous: Ben is their best friend.  

Gideon is the quiet one.  He is also a big surprise.  Sometimes I feel so depressed when I think about his possible future.  Then I sit with him and a book and I am amazed by what he really knows.  He just does not like to brag about it.  Gideon loves to be hugged.  Maybe because he is not so verbal, he loves physical connection.  Recently Gideon and I were playing on the trampoline while everyone else was watching TV inside.  It was so much fun playing the trampoline tackle game and trampoline tickle game (completely different game) with him.  Sometimes Gideon gets lost in the shuffle of our more boisterous children but God has gifted him with such a heart and love for life.   

Katherine is daddy’s girl.  She is the baby and she has this father wrapped around her finger.  She picks up on so much.  Being the baby, she experiences things much earlier than the other children.  For instance, I think Ben was at least four or five before he even knew about SpongeBob SquarePants.  Thank to her brother, she has seen the movie.  She loves Minnie Mouse and popcorn. This was a hard, busy season and one of the only things that got me through it was when I got home, I could expect Katherine’s hugs and kisses.  You have to hear her say her new favorite word “DEEEE- LICIOUS!” WE have a good time laughing, playing, and dancing.  One day she will be a great debater.  She has almost made me believe that I have brown and not blue eyes.  

My whole family is uniquely and wonderfully made and formed by God.  God has a wonderful plan for our lives which we can never fully understand or expect.  My plan was very different than God’s but I would not trade His plan for mine any day.  He knows better.  He is God.  Sometimes His blessings are disguised as other things.  But if we embrace our families uniqueness that come from our wonderfully unique God then we can experience more of his love and blessing in our lives.  Live and love in real life with those who God has placed in your life.  

You might not expect how blessed you will find you are.   

*This is the first of 3 blog posts that I will be writing over this weekend.  I hope some of you can be encouraged by my writing.  

The Maze

That day was a sunny autumn day in October.  The farm was crowded as it was a school holiday so many people had ventured out to dig through the pumpkin patch and children ran haphazardly between playgrounds.  There was a small train for a turn around the farm. Hay rides, food, a petting zoo.

And there was a corn maze.

I was there was Ben, who was about four at the time, while the other two boys were at therapy.  We were joined by a friend and her two children, ages three and one. And for some nutty, not-very-well-thought-out, inexplicable reason, we decided to go through that maze.

We didn't make it ten minutes before the first, "I have to go to the bathroom," was said.  This was followed soon after by, "I'm tired," also, "I'm bored," and, of course, "Will you carry me?"

About this time, we were beginning to realize our mistake because this maze was like the size of a Super Walmart (minus women in house shoes and inappropriately short shorts).  I'd never done a corn maze before and I, foolishly, thought it would be a piece of cake.  I like puzzles, I'm relatively intelligent.  I can certainly outsmart a bunch of pieces of corn stalks cut in some fancy design.

Wrong. I forgot I'm also completely directionally challenged.

We wandered around for hours it seemed like (okay, probably 45 minutes).  We hadn't thought to bring supplies like water or snacks or sleeping bags (since it seemed like we'd be there all night).  We twisted and turned, ran into little signs held by obnoxiously cute scarecrows that said things like "Wrong Turn," and "Dead End," and "Try Again."

I think more accurate signs might have been, "Are you an idiot?" "You're going to die in here," and "Got you, sucka."

The children weren't doing well.  They'd reached the level where laying down on the ground was preferred over walking and their complaints were loud and often.  I didn't blame them.  If I hadn't been, you know, one of the adults, I'd have been laying down on the ground with them.

We only passed a handful of other people on our journey.  Some of them seemed hopeful and some of them seemed confident.  I just felt lost and a little panicky and all I wanted to do was get out myself on the right path and get the h-e-double hockey sticks out of this place.  Finally, finally, we did.  I don't remember if we made it to the end or if we found a "You can't hack it" short cut.

Somehow we made it out and made a pact to never, ever, ever step foot in a corn maze again.  A promise I have kept until this day.

Last night when I couldn't sleep and lay awake thinking and thinking which turned into worrying and doubts, a feeling settled into my stomach and I realized it was how I felt in that stupid maze, that lost, panicky, I-just-want-to-be-on-the-right-path feeling again.

There are just some days when I feel completely lost and panicky, when it doesn't feel like I know the right thing to do.  I'm struggling with questions about schooling next year for the boys.  Questions with answers that might involve some major changes around our home and in our lives.  I worry if we are making wise choices in how we raise our children, if they'll need exorbitant amounts of therapy when they grow up (instead of just average amounts of therapy).  I worry about our finances and that the house is still a mess and that the laundry isn't folded.

I worry about our future.

I worry about their future.

And I feel stuck too.  I lay awake and wonder if this will always be my life.  I love my husband and I love my children but having two children with autism will be my life forever.  I'm scared that my life is that stupid corn maze except I'm never getting out of it.  I hear people say, "When the kids are out of the house . . . ," but that's not a sentiment I can latch onto.  I will likely always have one of my children at home.  Does this make me selfish?  Does this make me a bad mom because I have these thoughts?

Short answer: I don't know.

Longer answer: I don't think so?  I think part of having a child with lifelong special needs is that I have to grieve what won't be, accept what will be, and embrace it.  It sounds so simple and yet it is the hardest thing I will ever do.  Even when I think I've completely accepted things, I haven't.  I backtrack.  I panic.  I fear.  I lose faith.

I know mazes are full of traps and maybe that's what this fear and anxiety is.  It's a trap that keeps me from taking joy in what I have right now, this day, right in front of me. The only thing I can do is keep taking steps forward and keep trusting that God will guide me out of this.    

The One That Got Away

Being surrounded by all this water (school has now been canceled all week because of flooding in our area.  Don't worry, all the children are alive.) reminds me of the first time we lost a kid.

Children with autism tend to be very curious and many can have issues with elopement (a fancy word for running away) with very little thought of personal safety.  These two things combined are the biggest reason why you can spot an autism mom in public places.  We have our eyes on our children at all times.  We dress them in obnoxiously bright colors so that we can spot them easily. Our attempts at conversation seem distracted and choppy and we interrupt a lot by saying, "I'm so sorry.  Just one second," because we either have to go and grab a child or yell at a child.  We're kind of a mess, but we're a lovable mess.

Back to the time we lost a child for the first time . . . . Daniel was five.  We're were at some friends' house for our small group Bible study.  It was a nice early spring day so all the kids were outside playing.  A group of parents mingled, kept small children from eating grass, and wandered around.  That's all to say, there were more than ten other people outside on the day this happened.

These friends of ours has a covered area behind their garage that they'd propped a ladder on and made a faux tree house.  It stood six feet off the ground and the kids loved climbing up there and hanging out.  Daniel was no different.

About fifteen minutes after we arrived, it was time to eat so we called all the kids in.  Everyone came running, except for Daniel. That was unusual because Daniel liked to eat and while he might not come if I said, "It's time to brush your teeth," he did always come when I said, "It's time to eat."

"Where's Daniel?" I asked. The kids shrugged their shoulders, the adults shook their heads.  So, I started calling for him but Daniel, even now at almost ten, isn't very good at answering me when I call his name.  I tried not to panic at first (but I was definitely panicking).  I did a quick search of the yard but he was nowhere.  Soon, other people began to help me thoroughly search the yard, the garage, the house, everywhere he had access to.

He was gone.

I ran out to the street, praying the whole time, and began to frantically yell for him, scanning the area for any sign of him.  Nothing.  Finally, someone shouted from the backyard, "We found him."

I raced back to find a previously locked gate open between our friends' yard and the neighbor's behind them.  Daniel stood on the other side, drenched from his head to his toes.

He was smiling. I was not.

Daniel must have noticed the neighbor's backyard for the first time that day. From perched atop the pseudo tree house, he could look out and see the neighbors had a pool.  Daniel likes water.  He likes water a lot.  Last summer, he told me he being underwater makes him "feel like he's flying" and he likes the quiet. So, I'm sure as soon as he saw that pool, he wanted to be in that pool.

While ten of us stood around, Daniel managed to drop himself over the six foot fence to get in the neighbor's yard and then he got in their pool, wearing all his clothes, including jeans. For some reason, when he heard us calling for him, he got out and began knocking on the fence until someone heard him.

He didn't seem any worse for the wear.  In fact, he seemed pretty pleased with himself.  I was a basket case.  How could this possibly happen?  I'd been right there.  Other people had been right there.  How can a six foot fence not keep him safe?

In our case, thank God, Daniel was safe.  But many times, tragedy happens.  I think one of my biggest worries is that one of the boys will run off or escape somehow.  We take as many precautions as we can but sometimes they are smarter and faster than us.  Many parents deal with elopement issues well into their child's teen years, even adulthood.  It's real and it's scary.

If you're hanging out with a autism mom and her kid, you can help by being eyes and ears for them.  If you happen to come across a child that seems lost and non-verbal or very limited in language, please call 911 and keep the child safe.  Make sure to keep your voice quiet and soothing but tell them exactly what is happening.  Non-verbal does not mean they don't understand. Only touch them if they seem comfortable with it.  Finally, realize that being a mom of an autistic child is hard and we make mistakes. It does not mean we don't love our children any less or that we are bad parents.  It means we have more struggles than you do.  If parenting is a "learn-on-the-job" skill, then parenting a child with autism is baptism by fire.

Frankly, I need all the help I can get. 

No Better Gift

This started as a very long Facebook post I did exactly two years ago today.  I should have started a blog forever ago, I guess. 
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I used to be one of those judge-y people that saw a child acting out and questioned their parents' parenting skills, their lack of intelligence, and their right to pro-create.  Why can't they get that kid under control?  You should have to get a license to parent.  That's the future of America?

If I've learned anything from having two children with autism it is this: we need to give grace and compassion.  This is especially true for children who misbehave in public and their parents.   The truth is that we don't know these children's stories or that of their parents.  This could have been the worst year of their life.  Their dog may have died yesterday.  Someone may have been diagnosed with cancer last month.  Grandma may have passed away last week.  We don't know the difficulties they have that we can't see. Children with developmental delays, autism, ADHD, or diagnosed behavioral or mental health issues don't look any different than any other child you might see.   
 
If you see a parent struggling to get their child under control, think about me. You know me. You know Daniel and Gideon. You know my husband. We aren't permissive, enabling parents. We work hard and, of course, struggle, to get behavior issues under control. We make mistakes but we try.

A couple of years ago, around this time of year, Disney on Ice came through town.  Through a friend of my sister, we were able to get very discount tickets.  This is a special treat for our family.  We don't often have extra money to spend on entertainment and we rarely take our whole family when we do (we brought an extra adult to help with crowd control). We surprised the kids, who at the time were 7, 6, 4, and 8 months.  They had an amazing time seeing all the Disney characters they know and love and from movies they have memorized all the songs too. It went really well except for one tiny thing. 

The dude sitting in the row in front of us. 

Gideon got pretty excited to see all his friends on ice and so he began to jump around a bit and do some vocalizing.  He flapped his hands some and maybe clapped a bit too loudly.  The man in front of us looked to be there with a grandchild.  First he started with pointed looks back in our direction.  Then there were sharp shoulder shrugs and signs of annoyance which finally became grumbling under his breath about those parents and that kid.  Finally, he turned around and said sharply, "Hey, do your job.  Get that kid under control."

You know when something happens and you're speechless but later all the words you wished you'd said run through your head?  That's what happened.  We just nodded at him, embarrassed, and didn't say a thing. But later, my brain replayed the scenario where I got to put him in his place. 

I should have something like this to him:

"When you go to an event for children, please expect there to be a lot of, well, children. Please understand that not all children will behave exactly as you want them. Please understand that the daddy struggling with the four year old is actually trying to make the situation better and, is not, in fact, there to ruin your Disney On Ice experience. Please don't feel the need to comment on our parenting skills; you don't know anything about us. Take a breathe. Relax. Smile and be thankful your struggles aren't the same. Have some compassion.  Show some grace."

What if we all could be more compassionate and offer more grace? What if we gave people the benefit of the doubt and treated them with kindness, not because they necessarily did anything to earn it but because they exist and are here struggling though life the same way we are?

I am very thankful to be intimately familiar with the idea of grace and many opportunities to practice giving it. I can give grace to my children, for how God has formed them. I can give grace to myself (a bigger struggle there) and I can give grace to other parents and their children.  And of course I can begin to understand, just a tiny bit, the amount of grace God gives to me. Broken and imperfect with broken, imperfect children, we are always given God's grace to get back up when we fall down and try again. More than that, God gives us His hand to helps us up.

Ephesians 2:8
"For it is by grace you have been saved by faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God."

No better gift.

Temper Tantrum

 Here's what I saw this morning when I opened the front door:

That's a row of buzzards sitting atop my across-the-street neighbor's house. Spooky?  Sort of.  Foreboding?  Um, yeah.

Someone threw a temper tantrum in our house today.  It was pretty bad.  There was yelling and eye-rolling, stomping of feet and waving of fists. Okay, it was me.  I threw the temper tantrum. In my defense, I'm in survival mode.  School was canceled. Therapy was canceled. My husband's office was closed. And it's Monday.

It's like the Perfect Storm.

That's ironic because our city was shut down due to very heavy rains that is now being called a 500 year flood.  We are, thankfully, very safe and dry, although our street was flooded this morning and most of our town is still under water.

You may be thinking, Well, you get a free day to hang out and do nothing. After I finished laughing, I would tell you, "There's no such thing as a free day around here.  And the more there is nothing to do, the more some of our kiddos go craaaaazy."

At first, the day went pretty well.  Even though my husband's office was closed, he still had to work from home.  He sat at the dining room table with his computer, finishing up last minute "Tax Day" business.  I got breakfast for the kids, chocolate chip muffins, which made me very popular and awesome.

That lasted approximately six minutes.

Ben decided he needed to go outside and see the flooding.  That then quickly turned into, "Why can't I get in the water?" and then moved rapidly to, "You're the worst mom ever.  You hate me." It wasn't quite 9 a.m. yet and I was already losing any cool points I started the day with.

I was also losing any patience I might have developed while I slept (not much).  People make the (mistaken) assumption that because I have two kids with autism, I must be very patient. I'm really not.  No, I'm not just saying that.  I. Really. Am. Not. Patient.  I have to work really hard to keep my frustration in check.  I can do it most days but today . . . .

One of the things our boys with autism need is structure and routine.  They like the sameness of knowing what's going to happen each day and it helps to make them feel comforted and happy.  Even the smallest change from sitting next to a new person in class or, yes, a free day at home can begin to bring out behaviors. You have to understand: behavior is communication. When you're non-verbal or even limited verbally, behavior is how you express yourself.

So, after I got Ben situated, and endured the death rays he sent me periodically, Gideon came out swinging . . . literally.  Someone (okay, me) had left the Kindles in the van last night so they were not charged and Gideon was bored.   And when Gideon is bored . . . .

At first it was little things.  Putting many inappropriate things in his mouth for one.  (If I say, "Get that out of your mouth, Gideon" once a day, I say it twenty times a day).  Then he moved on to drive-by pinching which quickly escalated to hitting whomever happened to be next to him and finally, a new treat, kicking. I tried to redirect and get him interested in other things but today . . . .

Meanwhile, Daniel played quietly on his iPad.  It's just that he has this new behavior where he taps a fork on the floor with his foot while he's playing with it.  I hear this high-pitched tapping all the way upstairs in my bedroom. Most of the time I block it out but today . . . .

And then there's Katherine who insisted on climbing me like she's a monkey.  Feet in my face, arms wrapped around my eyes, all the while demanding me to "Read books now." I can usually deal with that but today . . . .

Finally, the husband, maybe having sensed my frustration or hearing me ask 19,000 times if I could please go be by myself for a while, sent me up to my bedroom for some quiet time. Or a time out is probably more appropriate.  I was grounded, okay.

I tried to take a nap.  I tried to read.  I tried to write.  Nothing was calming me.  All I could think about was what a disaster my house was and my ungrateful, half-dressed children who were surely at that very moment making an even bigger mess and eating everything they could put their hands on.

So, I stomped downstairs and made lunch.  I didn't smile though. Not once. Kind of like how a teacher doesn't smile before Christmas, well, I wasn't smiling before bedtime today.  I made grilled cheese (only one child protested.  Others may have tried but they saw it didn't go well with the first kid and wisely kept their mouths shut).  I announced we would be Cleaning the House after lunch. The ensuing groan was loud and long.

I didn't care.  I was on a mission.  To clean my house and make my children's lives' miserable.

My husband escaped upstairs for a nap.  I sat down to eat lunch and Gideon, who, if you remember, is bored, somehow, someway, found a light bulb to break on the kitchen floor. It shattered everywhere and he laughed.

And I saw red.

This is where my temper tantrum really started and, honestly, it had been building all day.  So, I spent the better part of two hours demanding and yelling and just being angry.  It was exhausting and not the least bit productive.  Some of my anger was not unwarranted.  I did have quite a bit of attitude from a couple of children and another that refused to take no for an answer.

Sometimes, though, I just feel angry for no good reason.  My schedule was thrown off today.  My routine was broken.  I was not planning to have a houseful of bored children.  We didn't have a fun family day watching movies or building forts.  My behavior was definitely communicating my displeasure, as sinful and un-righteous as it is.  I started to think that this may be how Daniel and especially Gideon feel when they can't seem to express themselves.  I see how Gideon, who can't use his words, may pinch or hit or break things so he can get someone's attention.  I can see how frustrating that must be for him.

The difference is that I'm a grown up. I know better and I can use my words. 

I'll be spending my evening apologizing to my family.  Parenting is a humbling experience and one in which I constantly feel like I'm making mistakes.  I'm thankful that children, somehow, have huge amounts of forgiveness in their little bodies and very short memories.  Tomorrow is a new day.  There will be new ways for me to mess up and more opportunities to humbly seek forgiveness.

But maybe tomorrow I'll get it right?

For the Church-Going Mamas

Dear Mamas,

It's Sunday.  It's been a long week.  Some of you work full time and then come home and work some more (for a far more demanding boss: your children).  Some of you stay home with little ones who aren't potty trained and even when they are, they still call you from the bathroom to, well, you know.  Some of you are homeschooling moms who carefully plans out your week to include all the math and reading plus a field trip or two.  Some of you are mamas with older kids and you're dealing with eye-rolling, end-of-the-world-meltdowns over end-of-the-world issues like nail polish and cell phone privileges.

You've done a lot of laundry over the last week.  A lot.  (How do all these little people create more dirty clothes than a small Asian country?)  You've made meals.  Some of those lunches you've packed in the 37 seconds of free time you have in the morning.  Some of those dinners only half the family ate because the other half was protesting it wasn't boxed orange macaroni and cheese.  You've done several bedtimes that consist of 15 trips to the bathroom, another 12 for drinks of water, and the 48 times someone just had to tell you something.

It's Sunday and you are tired.

But you still got everyone up this morning.  You picked out their good (or half way decent) Sunday clothes.  You got everyone dressed despite the grumbling (mostly theirs, some yours).  Your husband impatiently asked what was taking so long and you bit your tongue before you pointed out that you had like 63 people to get ready and he had himself. But you threw a muffin at each child for breakfast (because there's not time for anything else) and load everyone up.  Despite all your rushing and good intentions, you're still late and one of the kids spilled milk all over the back seat.

The service is a blur.  Was that your kid singing the theme song to "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse" while everyone was saying the Lord's Prayer?  (No, wait, that was my kid).  Somehow you manage to hear 53 seconds of the sermon (that's a new record) between runs to the bathroom or trips to the cry room.  You try really hard to talk to your friends afterwards but that never seems to work out as you hoped.

The car ride home is loud because your two year old is throwing a Fit to End All Fits about having to be strapped in while in the van (oh wait, just me again?).  Everyone's sort of . . . grumpy.  You're still tired, except more tired because you've spent the last couple of hours trying to keep your kids in line and be friendly and personable at the same time.

Sunday is not done with you yet though because after Sunday comes Monday.  And that means, more laundry, lunch making, backpack packing, ironing (if you do that kind of thing.  It's been years . . . do we even own an iron anymore?), baths, and bedtime (again) to get ready for the beginning of the week.

When has Sunday ever been a day of rest?  Why do you keep doing it?  You could stay in your pajamas all the day long, throw on some cartoons and not do anything while you sit on the couch.  It's not like the kids seem to appreciate your effort.

But they are paying attention.  They are seeing that your church family and worshiping God together is important, even when it's really not easy to do sometimes.  They see how Sundays at church become an essential part of your family's week.  It's necessary, it's important, and, yes, it's hard.  One day, I have faith, it won't be so hard. One day, I pray, our children will understand why Sundays with our church family are important.  One, I hope, they'll even thank us for taking them each week.

I'm counting on it.

Signed,
A Mom Who is Right There With You (and who may or may not have had mis-matched shoes on this morning)

The Phantom Lesson

Phantom, who wouldn't stand still for a photo

We met a horse today named Phantom.

We visited a horse farm, all together as a family (and no one died or got kicked by a horse.  Success!).  While we were there, we were able to wander around and meet the horses.  Phantom was locked in one of the stalls, a smallish space, perhaps 10 feet wide by 20 feet deep.  Phantom is a miniature horse.  A solid dark brown, his head only reached my chest.

The thing about Phantom, though, is that he wasn't particularly friendly.  In fact, he didn't much notice when any of the children walked by.  He spent most of his time running in a tight circle, over and over again.  The dirt ground of his stall had a deep groove in it where his path ran.  I watched him for bit, struck by his behavior.  The other horses were happy enough to get a pat on the head or poke their noses out in curiosity as we walked by.  Not Phantom though.

A young woman that works with the horse saw me staring at Phantom and came over to talk.  "He's my favorite," she said with a small smile.

"Does he do this all the time? Running in circles," I asked.

She nodded.  "He does.  And he's not very good at all with the other horse."

"Really?"

"Uh huh.  He likes to fight and he's a mess when he eats too.  Just goes a little crazy and gets himself in trouble," she explained.

I gave her a look.  She said Phantom was her favorite and she hadn't named one redeeming quality yet.  Maybe she had a soft spot for bad boys? Or bad horses?

She leaned a little closer and put her hand over the rail.  Phantom stopped and edged over to her hesitantly and then allowed a pat on the head before resuming his circles.

"It seems like he may have a little autism in him," I commented because . . .  well, the repetitive circles, the not-playing-well-with-others, the seeming disinterest in people.  If Phantom were a person, he'd be diagnosed on the spectrum in a hot minute.

The woman nodded and shrugged.  "I think so.  I don't know if animals can really have autism though."  She held a carrot out to Phantom.  The other horses took careful bites while the carrot was held in front of them.  But not Phantom. Phantom bit the carrot in the middle and ripped it out of her hand.  He threw it to the ground and began devouring it like it was the last one on earth.  Bits of carrots flew everywhere.  She grinned.  "See, he's crazy."

"Why's he your favorite?" I finally asked, thoroughly confused.

"Even though he seems a little strange, he's actually the most gentle horse we have.  When you put him in front of a child in a wheelchair, he's like a different horse.  He loves working with kids with special needs."  She smiled.  "He's pretty special himself.  I don't know how he knows, but he knows exactly what to do."

Phantom finished his carrot, got a scratch on his ear from the woman, and went right back to making his circles.  I wandered away but ended up back at his stall, mesmerized by his circles and, well, him.

There's a lesson in this horse, the crazy one who stays locked in his stall and only comes out to play with the children that need the most gentle of care. Amazingly, he found a place where they didn't pass him by because he's a little strange.  His caregivers worked with him to find his strengths and  talents. They could have written him off as a lost cause, sent to wherever horses that don't play nice go.  But instead, they  accepted his quirks and are blessed by his gentleness.

Are we so quick to judge someone by what we first see?  Do we take the time to find the redeeming qualities in them?  Do we look for how they were created in God's image?  As a mom to two special needs kids, I worry that my children will always been seen as a label.  Oh, they have autism, we know what that means.  Do you?  Yes, they have autism but they are special because we are all special.  We are all created in God's image to worship Him.  We are redeemed because He loves us, all of us.  I pray that people can look beyond the quirky behavior in my children to see them, to find what's really special about them.

Find the good qualities in people.  Look past the quirks and oddities, the ugly and the broken, the sad and the scarred.  You never, ever know what's hiding beneath the surface.  As Audrey Hepburn once said, "People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone." 

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/audreyhepb388908.html

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/audreyhepb388908.html

People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed, and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Read more at: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/quotes/a/audreyhepb388908.html