On Church day, I wrestle her to the ground to comb her hair. I admit it is the only day I comb her hair. I beg her to wear this cute dress with a pink ribbon. I force it over her head and tell her to try twirling. She does and the princess feeling lasts long enough to get us to church where she can't be - naked. We pile into the car and I give her the run down- Yes, first we go in and sing the songs, then we put some money in the plate, then we go sit at the tables outside so that mom and dad can listen to the important message. Then its Sunday School!
For years, I remember sitting in church reading and even "playing" in my seat. I remember singing songs and that wasn't so bad. But the talking on and on- ugh! I believe I read the whole Little House Series during the sermons. I even remember a lady coming up to me after church saying "I saw you reading and it looked like you were baking a cake." I think I was looking at a picture cookbook and pretending to make a cake. I counted heads in the front row. I traced the window patterns in the air. I doodled.
When I think of church when I was under the age of 10, I remember waiting. Waiting for the talking to stop so I could go get a brown, sugary, Pinwheel cookie. ( you have to be in West Michigan to know) Waiting for the chance to get up from the cold, hard seat, twirl, and tap around in my shiny black shoes. Waiting to find my friend Kelle and wanting to sneak a bit of leftover communion bread with her. Waiting to walk downstairs, play with toys, and have my own church- in Sunday School.
So now my six year old daughter is stuck in the same situation. We are in church and she sits. It is what kids are supposed to do. Sit and keep yourself occupied and quiet until church is over. The minister stands up and shares how so and so is sick -"Oh, no! He's sick! What are they going to do?" she says.
A missionary stand up and starts "Many years ago, "
"Better listen mamma" he's telling a story."
The offering comes around- "Look mom, it's time to give him a piece of your heart. Do you have any?" I reach in and get her involved that way. Hey, at least she is listening a bit. More than I ever did. Bless her heart for trying!
As soon as the minister stands up for the sermon, we escape to the lobby. There I unpack coloring books, pens, crayons, sticker books, a puzzle, - whatever can be entertaining for the next twenty minutes or so. She keeps herself occupied a little bit - then asks
"Where are the kids? Is it time to go to my class yet?"
The minister says "Now pay attention to that word in the scripture because it is crucial."
"Mom can you read this page to me please" , she says.
I not only miss the reason why the word is crucial in my Christian walk, I miss the word all together.
The concluding song ends and people begin to file out of the sanctuary.
"Okay, Momma, time to go!" she announces.
We pick up everything and practically race down the stairs like the rest of the kids to Sunday School.
At this age, she is finally at church. The waiting is over.
For a young kid, our Church now is the way it was many years ago. Wait- be quiet- wait- listen- wait-learn. It's beginning to get engrained in her as it was in me. But my little young brain just couldn't grasp it and nor can hers. Nothing gained in church except the order of things and a little bit of nice music. For the time being, my child has to do the same- my autistic child. For the time being she does as she is told with little complaint and more- she tries to get something out of it- make the best of it for as long as she can- bless her heart for trying!
Sunday, September 22, 2013
Tuesday, September 10, 2013
Forever Slow Joe
The ride to Buffalo seemed as close to forever as my five year old mind could grasp. Blankets and pillows were set up in the way back seat of our Ford Station Wagon. My brothers and I slept there with nothing but boredom to keep us occupied. Seeing a night turn to day and then almost night again defined the ride as forever. Being, old enough to say "Back in the day" there were no hand held games, x boxes, I-pads, texting devices, just meager little things like fingers, cassette tapes, and road signs. Tracing word and letters, tapping songs, looking for the alphabet on road signs- helped forever seem a little bit like "just a long time".
The light at the end of the tunnel was seeing Bells Grocery Store which was walking distance from my Grandparents house. Then forever changed into now when we saw the white picket fence and the white two story house that seemed to stick its neck out just upon seeing our station wagon glide towards house number 118. I remember kisses from my Grandma's fresh lipstick and my Grandpa's prickles. I remember a hearty dinner with the family army. Then, when the table was cleared, the moment had come. The moment I had been waiting for the whole forever car ride.
"Grandma, could you please put on Slow Joe?" I pleaded.
"Sure Sweetie, " (Sweet Grandma said it and meant it.)
Grandma had it ready to go probably since after breakfast. The drop of the needle and the music began. All twenty something of us crammed and cozy, got a little quieter. The music began and I began stare off into wonderment.
"Once there was a middle sized boy who liked peppermint ice cream. His name was Joe and he was a slow boy. Sometimes he talked like this- Hel-lo! Sometimes he walked just like this: step, step, step, step, - Sometimes Joe just liked being slow "
Not the most thrilling beginning but thrilling enough for me.
"One day Joe was at his Grandmother's house. Joe's Grandmother made some autumn vegetable soup. Grandmother poured some into a kettle and said "Now, Joe, you take that soup right down the hill to mother. Joe started down the hill. Step , Step, Step, ... a wiggly green caterpillar came wiggling by. He walked down the hill with caterpillar - step, step, step, - Along came the milkman.
"Do caterpillars like- pep-per-mint ice- cream? " asks Joe.
"No, Joe, caterpillars like green leaves. But look! There's a hole in that kettle, you better hurry home before all the soup is gone. " says the milkman.
Does Slow Joe hurry along? No, he continues slowly noticing all the little but important things in life like a brown worm and a shiny black ant.
As I relay the story to you, I am filled with excitement and endearment.
Slow Joe, the dear little boy who liked peppermint ice cream steps about carefully and slowly in life just because he wants too.
The drama builds as it begins to rain. The French horn plays.a perfect rendition of real rain. Two drops of rain fall plink plink into the kettle of soup. Soon, it was raining all around. And Joe went slowly down the hill, step, step, step- ( with perfect step step music playing) down the hill farther and farther away from the peppermint ice cream. Now there's not one leak but two. And its raining. Just picture being young. You've been told to do something. Yet, it is a hard something. And all you want is your peppermint ice cream! The suspense was just as alive then as it is now for me.
"Joe, you saved the soup! " says his mother. "Now, what you do want, an apple, a cookie or what?
Poor Joe knows that there wasn't any peppermint ice cream to speak of in the house. So he just says- "Give me a crumb of bread, a slurp of mud, and a green leaf." Slow Joe who paid attention with wonderment to the little things in life, plans to go back and give the ant, caterpillar, and worm, a treat even though HE wasn't getting anything. Even after saving the soup from leaking out and getting washed with rain water! Poor Joe.
"Joe, I was going to ask you to go to the ice cream store, but it will be closed in another minute! "
After one second of pondering peppermint ice cream, he takes the money, the mud, the leaf, and the crumb and moves like a race horse, airplane, motorcycle.....( the trumpet is blaring- its the perfect racing musical instrument)
I am doing circles around grandma's dining room table at this moment. I stop with heavy breathing just like Joe. Life becomes fast, exciting, and deliciously wonderful. Joe eats the peppermint ice cream cone from top to bottom - Lick! Lick! Lick! Because Joe liked peppermint ice cream! I chime in along with the story-the most perfect ending in the whole world.
The forever drive day ended with Slow Joe. We were finally at Grandma's. The story was just as good as it always was. It still is.
"Thanks Grandma!" I say after it is all over.
"You are welcome, sweetie." she says. Sweet Grandma said it and meant it.
The Simple Slow Joe, the boy that took forever, was the story I looked forward to even after the forever to Buffalo. A gift from Grandma telling us that forever wasn't so bad. Now, forty some years later, I have shared it with my own kids who take the same delight in this boy who took forever to do a simple task. Yet, Slow Joe, is a story that will be slow to leave our minds. Maybe it will take forever.
By the way, you can listen to it on Youtube. Just search Slow Joe and the peppermint ice cream. Maybe its a great forever for you too.
The light at the end of the tunnel was seeing Bells Grocery Store which was walking distance from my Grandparents house. Then forever changed into now when we saw the white picket fence and the white two story house that seemed to stick its neck out just upon seeing our station wagon glide towards house number 118. I remember kisses from my Grandma's fresh lipstick and my Grandpa's prickles. I remember a hearty dinner with the family army. Then, when the table was cleared, the moment had come. The moment I had been waiting for the whole forever car ride.
"Grandma, could you please put on Slow Joe?" I pleaded.
"Sure Sweetie, " (Sweet Grandma said it and meant it.)
Grandma had it ready to go probably since after breakfast. The drop of the needle and the music began. All twenty something of us crammed and cozy, got a little quieter. The music began and I began stare off into wonderment.
"Once there was a middle sized boy who liked peppermint ice cream. His name was Joe and he was a slow boy. Sometimes he talked like this- Hel-lo! Sometimes he walked just like this: step, step, step, step, - Sometimes Joe just liked being slow "
Not the most thrilling beginning but thrilling enough for me.
"One day Joe was at his Grandmother's house. Joe's Grandmother made some autumn vegetable soup. Grandmother poured some into a kettle and said "Now, Joe, you take that soup right down the hill to mother. Joe started down the hill. Step , Step, Step, ... a wiggly green caterpillar came wiggling by. He walked down the hill with caterpillar - step, step, step, - Along came the milkman.
"Do caterpillars like- pep-per-mint ice- cream? " asks Joe.
"No, Joe, caterpillars like green leaves. But look! There's a hole in that kettle, you better hurry home before all the soup is gone. " says the milkman.
Does Slow Joe hurry along? No, he continues slowly noticing all the little but important things in life like a brown worm and a shiny black ant.
As I relay the story to you, I am filled with excitement and endearment.
Slow Joe, the dear little boy who liked peppermint ice cream steps about carefully and slowly in life just because he wants too.
The drama builds as it begins to rain. The French horn plays.a perfect rendition of real rain. Two drops of rain fall plink plink into the kettle of soup. Soon, it was raining all around. And Joe went slowly down the hill, step, step, step- ( with perfect step step music playing) down the hill farther and farther away from the peppermint ice cream. Now there's not one leak but two. And its raining. Just picture being young. You've been told to do something. Yet, it is a hard something. And all you want is your peppermint ice cream! The suspense was just as alive then as it is now for me.
"Joe, you saved the soup! " says his mother. "Now, what you do want, an apple, a cookie or what?
Poor Joe knows that there wasn't any peppermint ice cream to speak of in the house. So he just says- "Give me a crumb of bread, a slurp of mud, and a green leaf." Slow Joe who paid attention with wonderment to the little things in life, plans to go back and give the ant, caterpillar, and worm, a treat even though HE wasn't getting anything. Even after saving the soup from leaking out and getting washed with rain water! Poor Joe.
"Joe, I was going to ask you to go to the ice cream store, but it will be closed in another minute! "
After one second of pondering peppermint ice cream, he takes the money, the mud, the leaf, and the crumb and moves like a race horse, airplane, motorcycle.....( the trumpet is blaring- its the perfect racing musical instrument)
I am doing circles around grandma's dining room table at this moment. I stop with heavy breathing just like Joe. Life becomes fast, exciting, and deliciously wonderful. Joe eats the peppermint ice cream cone from top to bottom - Lick! Lick! Lick! Because Joe liked peppermint ice cream! I chime in along with the story-the most perfect ending in the whole world.
The forever drive day ended with Slow Joe. We were finally at Grandma's. The story was just as good as it always was. It still is.
"Thanks Grandma!" I say after it is all over.
"You are welcome, sweetie." she says. Sweet Grandma said it and meant it.
The Simple Slow Joe, the boy that took forever, was the story I looked forward to even after the forever to Buffalo. A gift from Grandma telling us that forever wasn't so bad. Now, forty some years later, I have shared it with my own kids who take the same delight in this boy who took forever to do a simple task. Yet, Slow Joe, is a story that will be slow to leave our minds. Maybe it will take forever.
By the way, you can listen to it on Youtube. Just search Slow Joe and the peppermint ice cream. Maybe its a great forever for you too.
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Nobody, Someone, Everybody
All the Nobodies strive to be Someone in order to be a part of the Everybody. To help you understand who is who, let me help you. The Nobodies are the known but ignored. They are disregarded or thought of as less. You know the plain belly Sneech. The one who didn't go to the hot dog roast. Those are the ones. The Someones are those that have status. They have the star on their bellies. They have the 50 or more likes on Facebook or better yet, comments. They have arrived. The Everybody is the normed reference from which we draw information. They are the majority of people who feel, believe, and live a certain way. The Everybody is the widely accepted because they are full of a whole lot of Someones.
On one hand I am all three. I live in my own little world and lead a fairly "quiet" life. I am certainly no big time celebrity recognized by People Magazine. I know what it feels to be ignored and forgotten. I wasn't the big girl on campus by any means. I was the shy wallflower with buck teeth. Yet, more often, I feel so much like a Someone and a part of the Everybody. It feels pretty good to be the one who gets to attend the marshmallow and hot dog roast. It is easy to enjoy and relish in the Someone that you are and forget the "Nobodies".
These are thoughts that race through my mind as I raise one who might feel like a "Nobody" at times. Her skills of social interaction might push her into the "Nobody" crowd. She speaks sometimes in tangents, or disconnected discourse. She is confusing and weird. Her hand flapping and jumping when excited cause stares. Being born "not typical" she is automatically in our cruel society given a "Nobody" label. I have read stories that are too real to our lives. Stories of a parent holding their crying child because they are regarded as "Nobody" with no friends to indicate they are Someone. There are no birthday party invitations and no play dates. No telephone calls. Just loneliness. This is the pain of the "Nobody."
This "Nobody" treatment comes in little dosages. It happens when my girlie says hello to a "friend" and gets ignorance. It happens when she invites a "Someone" to play and they turn away. It happens when her "out of the box" behavior is regarded as too different and not the way. This is the threat of living a life of a "Nobody." And as the story goes, McBean, the money maker guy earns a fortune on the be Someone and join the Everybody concept says "You can't teach a Sneech." That is just the way it is. Not a chance. Not a chance?
Turns out, Mr. McBean was quite wrong, we are happy to discover. They learn a valuable lesson on that day on the beach. A Sneech is a Sneech. Bottom line we are all Someones. We are ALL included in the EVERYbody. My child is and will always be a Someone. If the God of all the Universe would die so that ALL of us (whether you believe it or not) "Nobodies" can be Somebodies, than we certainly welcome anyone and leave No-body apart from the Everybody by regarding them as Somebodies. Each Someone can contribute something amazing to Everybody world. I witness this daily raising my Someone. Chances are parents of special needs kids ( some really big Someones) do too.
Dare to see each person as Someone. Recognize the quantity of EVERY in Everybody. It is a lesson we must learn or we ourselves are simply being Nobodies.
On one hand I am all three. I live in my own little world and lead a fairly "quiet" life. I am certainly no big time celebrity recognized by People Magazine. I know what it feels to be ignored and forgotten. I wasn't the big girl on campus by any means. I was the shy wallflower with buck teeth. Yet, more often, I feel so much like a Someone and a part of the Everybody. It feels pretty good to be the one who gets to attend the marshmallow and hot dog roast. It is easy to enjoy and relish in the Someone that you are and forget the "Nobodies".
These are thoughts that race through my mind as I raise one who might feel like a "Nobody" at times. Her skills of social interaction might push her into the "Nobody" crowd. She speaks sometimes in tangents, or disconnected discourse. She is confusing and weird. Her hand flapping and jumping when excited cause stares. Being born "not typical" she is automatically in our cruel society given a "Nobody" label. I have read stories that are too real to our lives. Stories of a parent holding their crying child because they are regarded as "Nobody" with no friends to indicate they are Someone. There are no birthday party invitations and no play dates. No telephone calls. Just loneliness. This is the pain of the "Nobody."
This "Nobody" treatment comes in little dosages. It happens when my girlie says hello to a "friend" and gets ignorance. It happens when she invites a "Someone" to play and they turn away. It happens when her "out of the box" behavior is regarded as too different and not the way. This is the threat of living a life of a "Nobody." And as the story goes, McBean, the money maker guy earns a fortune on the be Someone and join the Everybody concept says "You can't teach a Sneech." That is just the way it is. Not a chance. Not a chance?
Turns out, Mr. McBean was quite wrong, we are happy to discover. They learn a valuable lesson on that day on the beach. A Sneech is a Sneech. Bottom line we are all Someones. We are ALL included in the EVERYbody. My child is and will always be a Someone. If the God of all the Universe would die so that ALL of us (whether you believe it or not) "Nobodies" can be Somebodies, than we certainly welcome anyone and leave No-body apart from the Everybody by regarding them as Somebodies. Each Someone can contribute something amazing to Everybody world. I witness this daily raising my Someone. Chances are parents of special needs kids ( some really big Someones) do too.
Dare to see each person as Someone. Recognize the quantity of EVERY in Everybody. It is a lesson we must learn or we ourselves are simply being Nobodies.
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