My Grown Up Christmas Wish...

My local Christian radio station, KSBJ, is asking for letters mailed to them about what your "Grown Up Christmas List" is.

I've thought about it quite often - just about every day of the year really. From last Fall until this Fall, all I wanted for Christmas was my son's two front teeth. Literally. Seizures took them, twice. One all but a sliver, the other fared much better. Just a chunk missing. It was really sad that if my son were a typical boy, I wouldn't have had to wait that long. I wouldn't have had to place him on a year-long waiting list because too few dentist's choose to specialize in a population of children, youth, and adults who have unique needs and require general anesthesia.

So needless to say, my "Grown Up Christmas List" centers around him. My sweet son who is now an adult who is non-verbal, significantly affected by autism, gastrointestinal disease, and seizures.

I want for him a medical doctor in a typical medical center who will leave me speechless by how much they know about the biomedical treatment of vaccine induced autism; not by what they won't even consider in how vaccine injury caused all the biomedical disorders I came to seeking treatment for.

I want for him to not be in pain, and when he is, to be able to tell me where.

I want to know how to fix that pain.

I want Physicians to go back to where they practice medicine, and don't prescribe it.

I want Pharma to stop poisoning our children. Drugging them. Making them customers for life.

I want the Government to stop mandating vaccinations, and instead mandate GMO-labeling. Heck - what I really want is no more GMO's.

I want Politicians to remember that they work for us peasants, not the Kings. That they should be speaking for those who can't speak for themselves -- by listening to those who know them best --- the ones who love them, care for them. Fight for them. Would die for them.

I want for him all the Christmases past that he missed because he would rather be alone in his room banging his head against the wall. All the untouched presents opened & played with that he could care less about because it was only the ribbon that he wanted to flap over and over. All the classroom parties that he could not be a part of because it was just too much of a sensory overload.  All the friendships he never had because he didn't know how to play what they wanted to play.

All the Santa pictures we missed because his imagination was taken away along with his health and he could not understand who Santa was or why I was trying unsuccessfully to make him sit on his lap.

All the letters to Santa he could not write.

I want for him Christmas present where he can for once take part. Seizure-free. Leaky-gut free. Pain-free. I want him to have the vision of sugar plums. I want him to not be able to sleep in anticipation of Christmas Day. I want him to watch The Nativity Story with me and make fun of me when I cry.  I want him to take part in telling stories at dinner and playing games after dessert.

I want to see him fight his big brother for the last roll.

I want for him a Christmas future that doesn't scare the hell out of me. One where I can die peacefully knowing that someone will be there to make his GFCFSF Gravy. Buy him Christmas Candy he can eat. Include him in their celebration no matter the chaos. Who will check him many times a night to make sure he's dry, clean, breathing.

For my Grown Up Christmas List, if I can't have for him a Driver's License, Prom, College, Marriage, or Children of his own, then I want for him to be treated with dignity, respect. To be loved as a person and not just cared for as a client. To feel safe. To not be abused, neglected, maimed, or murdered in some dark corner of an institution. To have a home in his community with his friends. To not be alone. To be valued. Seen as worthy. To live, laugh, continue to learn. To be free. Have choices. He likes long baths, not quick showers. He loves to be outside on a trampoline, not inside drugged up and made to sit in front of a television.

I fight for these things on my Grown Up Christmas List each and every day, so I suppose the last thing on my list would be to not have to fight for them anymore...

For it to just be.

Among all these things I wish for - there are two things I'm most thankful I don't have to wish for... 

Unconditional love.

This season, more than any other, is about love. The unconditional love Christ has for us. And for those who see that as something far too distant, there are people like my son who are unconditional love on earth. They don't see race, color, gender, religion. Democrat or Republican. They don't do deceit, lies, hate, or bullying. They simply do love. Unconditional love. The one thing people in this world crave, is possessed by those they turn away or don't take the time to know.

Christmas Spirit from within.

Brandon has taught me that no matter what age you are, you can still have that childlike innocence of not being embarrassed to admit that you love to read "Twas the Night before Christmas." I won't ever think I'm too old to believe in Santa or too smart or prideful to not believe it possible that at Christmas so very long ago in a stable, a Virgin gave Birth to a Savior who would be called "Emmanuel -- God is with us."

Thanks to Brandon I'll always hear the Christmas Bell ringing, where if there were a word to put with that sound, for me it would be -

HOPEISM.

 Long ring the bells of Hopeism.........
 

An answer no one really wants to hear...

For those who have ever prayed for a family like ours and wondered what you could do for them ---

I received a beautiful card from a facebook friend who had been reading about our difficult times with our son's seizures.  In the card that person shared that they knew we most likely had needs not being met and asked how could they help. 

First of all - don't anyone ever think it's not worth the time and effort to send someone a card or handwritten note.  I don't know about anyone else - but for me it is such a blessing to open a card or letter.  Pure, simple, joy.  In my mailbox I get nothing but junk ads and junk mail and bills.  On my desk is paperwork -- forms to fill out to get nothing in return, printed out research abstracts for my leisurely reading, EOB's to sort through and when need be, appeal letters to begin writing.

Oh, the simple joy of a simple card addressed to me, not "occupant", not "guardian of", to open once in a while to break the monotony.

In the card was a very heartfelt sharing of how much that person cares for us and our struggles. 

Then there it was, that question.....

The very genuine question asking how they could possibly help us.

Unfortunately at times I'm a very impulsive person. I knew what my answer would be the minute I read the question.  But I tried to wait for a while.  Put the question down and walk away...  See if my answer would change after thought and reflection.  Seek the Lord's grace to overtake my lack of gracefulness.

I'm not sure what that says about my Christian walk, but after seeking heavenly grace I found the same human graceless answer a week later as I had the moment I read the question.  I guess why the truth is so absent in our world today, is because it's not glamorous.  It's not the popular answer.  It's often more blunt than graceful. 

My answer is that prayer is always appreciated.  Receiving a card that someone is praying for you, even better. 

Many families like mine are on such restricted diets, that cooking a meal for them isn't really that helpful.  There are too many things we can't have.

We love to do our own yard work, repair work, etc.  It's sometimes our only diversion in our life with autism -- to get to do something normal people do.  When we can.

What we really need, and I think I speak for many, is respite.  So often the people asking us how they can help, are those who belong to a church.  Perhaps even our own church.  They have a way to help.
They have a building that's mostly empty on a Saturday.  They have members of all ages and gifts and abilities.  They have the perfect answer to that question of "Do you have a need not being met?  Do you need help?  How can we help?"

They have a congregation of servants who when the Lord asks "Whom shall I send?"

Should all be answering "Here we are, send us!"

Not if it's convenient.
Not if we're not scared to.
Not if we don't know how.
Not if we're afraid we'll be sued.

But rather "if there's a will, we'll find a way."  "If God calls, he will equip."

For families like mine, the help we need isn't in the time of crisis, it's in those times of reprieve.  For our son when he's well, to have a place to go for a few hours just for fun.  To have an energetic youth peer play catch with him. Pull him in a wagon. Chase him on the playground.

For some less mobile children or youth, the senior ladies and gentlemen can perhaps read Bible stories to them for a few hours.

Deacons can stand guard at doors for sly escapee's.  Women's Ministry can greet the Mom's and take their name and commit to praying for that family.  The Men's Ministry can be buddies to some big-ol' boys!

The possibilities of how a church can and should answer that question are limitless.

If it weren't for fear from those who God calls to be fearless.

All I've heard lately is fear.  Things like, "We can't continue offering our perfectly suited ministry building that God provided for "outside" groups to use for respite because of liability."  "If we were to be sued, we could lose everything."

That might be true, but if the church that preaches faith to everyone else can't save a morsel for itself, then we're all in trouble.

If you were walking down the street and saw a child hit by a car, you would not just walk on by.  You would go to that person, do what you could, and then call 911.

If you were in the grocery store and someone dropped in front of you with a heart attack, you wouldn't not help because if they died you might be sued.  No, you would hopefully attempt CPR and call 911 and trust in the Good Samaritan law.

Parents of children with autism and other disabilities are asking no more than that.

That you do what you can and trust God to do what you can't.

We are supposed to belong to a church that preaches faith, that there must be purpose in your child having autism, a disability, seizures.  That even though it may be hard, even though your finances will be wiped out, God will provide.

But what I've heard lately from those same churches, is that they can't open their doors to respite programs because they might get sued and lose everything.

Can churches built by God really lose everything?

Is God's faith different for people than it is for churches?

If God can provide for the church, don't you think it can protect it?

And even if something were to happen, could it maybe be part of God's purpose or plan?  Like parents are told to believe regarding having a child with a disability?

Yes, those things are hard.  It takes courage.  It takes money.  It takes collaboration.  It takes trust.

It is difficult to step out of that boat, to cross that river.

But maybe, just maybe in doing that - you can see just what a blessing it is to families like mine whose lives are nothing but hard, nothing but difficult.  Yet we have no choice but to plunge head first in the Jordan.  Jump out of that boat with no life vest.

Or liability insurance.

I've also heard things like, "Well not many who we serve attend our church..."  How many villages from the mission trips you sent your members on have come back to attend your church?  How many people on your own membership list attend your church regularly? 

What if the parents dropping their child off for respite on a Saturday never ever occupy a pew on Sunday?  Is it not worth it that the child, youth, or adult who has a disability and who is made fun of by their peers, bullied on the bus, abused in the classroom -- has a place to go for a few hours once a month to learn about Jesus through the volunteer who read to them?  The servant who was the kind, loving, accepting hands and feet of Jesus in caring for them? 

Are we serving because there is a need we are equipped to meet, or serving so we can get?

God calls us to plant.  Not harvest.

We are to sow.  God's Kingdom, not the church, is to reap.


Don't ask how you can serve someone, if you're not prepared to serve in the way they need.  We've been abandoned by too many people and it's just too crushing to be abandoned by those whose very faith says to serve, trust.  Not flee, fear.

Parents of children, youth, and adults who have autism for the most part don't need help in crisis.  There's not much you can do during those times anyway.  What they need is opportunity when all is well.  A Saturday afternoon respite to just enjoy their house or go out to dinner or see a movie.  Their child or children with disabilities who are nothing but stuck in their house, don't need a babysitter to come over, they need a place to go play and be around people who have fresh wind, fresh fire, -- perhaps little experience, but great faith.  By doing that, you are serving in multiple ways.  Respite for the parents, time for marriage for the husband/wife, a change of scenery and recreation opportunity for the child, youth, or adult with the disability.

What we need is for you to be Good Samaritans who serve with cell phones.  If something happens, call 911.

I guess if that's simply too big for God to make happen through your church, there are local disability organizations who serve families who can always use your donation.

Most of them non-Christian based.

Think about that.

The Pricetag of Priceless

I received a letter from Matt's Custom Decks on Saturday - asking if we were happy with the construction job they did for us and if we had any comments or concerns so that they could improve their services, etc.

For a family like ours, it's hard to answer that.
 

Our perspective is too different.

We deal in "needs" - not "wants".

We have a son who is severely affected by autism and seizures.  Whose vaccine-induced immune and mitochondrial dysfunctions spare no body system.  

We live in Houston.  It's hot in Houston.

Really hot.

Our son doesn't sweat to help his body regulate temperature.  He has seizures instead.

So for summer after summer we could only be outside for 15 minutes at a time.  We had a tiny porch slab, but it wasn't covered.  We have no trees in our yard for shade because for years we had an above ground pool.  When the seizures became really bad, we had to get rid of it and just never got around to planting trees.  Not that they would have provided any shade anytime soon!

If it wasn't the relentless heat that trapped Brandon inside, it was the seizures.

Finally - the day came when we felt we were in a position to spend the money to have the porch expanded --- and covered.

Obviously our "Life with Autism" wasn't going away any time soon, and with respite hopes non-existent for the most part -- for our own sanity and stress-relief, we had to create our own escape.

A refuge in our refuge.

For all of us!

Looking through Matt's Custom Decks website was a wonderful dream.  So many different ways we could do our porch.  How do people who do have such luxuries of time to contemplate such projects ever narrow it down among all the possibilities? Where do they get the money to do all that?

I guess they don't have lifetime care for their adult son to worry about.

I guess they don't spend $500.00 or more a month on supplements and special food orders, and about an extra $200.00 on the grocery bill for organic, non-toxic, and special diet food.

I guess they don't order raw camel milk at $9.00 a pint from an Amish Camel Dairy clear across the country and have to pay for expedited shipping so it doesn't arrive in Houston as hot chocolate.

I guess they're not having to pay for private school, out-of-pocket for autism treatments insurance doesn't pay, or out-of-network for alternative doctors who do far more than any in-network doctor has ever done for us.

Looking at all the possibilities reminded me why I love the part of "Life with Autism" that I do love.

Like knowing a "want" from a "need".

The picture shows that for us.

Brandon had a seizure that morning.  Because of this covered porch and the outdoor couch that my husband custom built for Brandon to be able to lay flat on when he has a seizure -- we were able to all still enjoy a slice of normalcy.  We could all be outside.

A need met.

The porch didn't cure my son of the seizures, it just made getting through them a bit easier for all of us.  Our lives didn't have to come to a screeching halt to constantly check on Brandon in his bedroom and we didn't have to be inside on a beautiful outside day

I don't think I could ever convey that in a customer satisfaction survey.  What their project was to us was so much more than just another job.  It was building freedom for us.  Respite for us.

When Todd and I sat out there while Brandon was lying on that couch, I know we were both on the verge of tears.  The simple joys of simple blessings.

It was the best money we ever spent, and not just for something we wanted for the purpose of wanting or something that would impress or add value to our house ---

But in how it gave back to our son just a little of what autism has taken from him ---

Normalcy.

Freedom.

Yes Matt's Custom Decks -- we are pleased with the work you did for us.

It was worth every penny.

It's absolutely priceless.


The Guppy's

...is when I carried you.

We've certainly hit some low points in our "Life with Autism."    In fact, we really can't remember anything but brief periods of calm while the chaos reloads.  Seizures seem to have a relentless grip on our son, on our lives, -- so much so that I find myself thinking of the "Footprints in the Sand" poem quite often.

Knowing --

But wondering...

This picture from our life today is our "Footprints in the Sand" photo.  Todd has carried Brandon like this many times.  I just happened to have my phone with me to snap this one.

Brandon had yet another seizure this morning.  On yet another Sunday.  The Lord's Day.  At least though he was awake.  He couldn't walk, but he was awake.

The little things.

I guess no better day than a Sunday to be reminded of how when Todd or I must carry Brandon, that it is God who is carrying us.

Oh if we could all live with the faith Brandon has.  That his Daddy might drop him never, ever enters his mind.

That God would ever forsake us --

Should never ever, enter ours.


NDCQ
Michelle M. Guppy



Footprints in the Sand

 One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
             Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
                  In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
                       Sometimes there were two sets of footprints,
                           other times there were one set of footprints.

                                  This bothered me because I noticed
                                that during the low periods of my life,
                             when I was suffering from
                         anguish, sorrow or defeat,
                     I could see only one set of footprints.

          So I said to the Lord,
      "You promised me Lord,
         that if I followed you,
             you would walk with me always.
                   But I have noticed that during
                          the most trying periods of my life
                                 there have only been one
                                       set of footprints in the sand.
                                           Why, when I needed you most,
                                          you have not been there for me?"

                                 The Lord replied,
                          "The times when you have
                  seen only one set of footprints,
          is when I carried you."
                                                   

Mary Stevenson

The Wow Factor

Our son who has autism has many medical challenges to deal with on a daily basis.  One of which is the inability of his body to regulate temperature.  Even where we live in Houston, in the middle of August when getting out of the bathtub - he will shiver violently at the slightest chill.  Which is why we live in Houston.  We could not live anywhere where there is "winter".  Well, real winter.

Yet because of that same inability to regulate temperature, while he doesn't mind the heat, his body does.  It doesn't tell him he's too hot, until he's -- too hot. 

And then he has a seizure.

It's been challenging to say the least for this outdoor family to enjoy the outdoors.  We just can't be out there for long periods at all because of the heat and the fact that there is no shade.  We have a porch, but it's scorching hot concrete with no cover.  Which creates another issue in that our son doesn't like shoes much.  He tolerates them, but he'd rather be barefoot.  And he'd rather walk on scorching hot concrete than grass -- er -- weeds.

So -- over the years I've kinda sorta let our yard go.  There was really no sense spending time or money on pretty bushes and flowers when we could only spend 15 minute spurts of time out there.

Autism had other things it needed us to spend money on other than a covering for a porch.  Let alone the total indulgence of being able to extend it as well!  So that we could be outside. Call it our "summer home" out there. Tend to the pretty bushes.  Plant pretty flowers.  Dig another garden!

Unless you have autism in your life, it will be hard to imagine what the home of someone living with autism must be.  To us, it's our refuge.  The one safe place in the world where no one stares at us or our son.  Our son isn't bullied in his home because he's different.  His home is his safe place.  Familiar place.  Unchanging place.  Where no one makes him try to fit in their world.  Where he can be him in his world.  It's where we can safely vacation with autism.  It's our summer home, and our home away from home. 

Over the years we've made the inside as "autism-friendly" as we possibly could.

Now -- now we've finally come to the place where we could focus on the outside of our home.

We found a contractor we liked, who was local, and seemed pretty darn good at what he does by the pictures on his website.  And his name is Matt.  Can't go wrong with a name like that, though I could be biased as my Navy-son's name is Matt. 

We signed the contract and the work began.

The first day was spent digging post holes and setting behemoth posts that would bear the weight of the roof of the covered patio.  My son Brandon, who this project was for, was upstairs in bed after 6 Grand Mal seizures early early that morning and into the day.  As I would pass back and forth by the window I could see those men digging and picking their way through the concrete patio to set those behemoth posts. 

Finally they were set.

In concrete.

When I saw where one of them was, I was worried about it being too close to the door, not for us, but for Brandon.  When he gets excited, he runs and giggles and stumbles...  I could just see him running for the door as his usual routine is, and not being used to a post being there, and run right into it.

So I asked one of the men why that beam had to be there and he explained it.  It made sense and I said ok -- that is fine.  I was just curious. Definitely not upset - there are bigger things in our life to be upset about!  A post that I could make work by putting things around it to divert his path was definitely not one of them!

No problemo!

So - I didn't think about it again.

The next morning they came and worked.

Around noon I went out there to see the progress - and I noticed it.

The post was gone.

He moved the post for me.

All that work they did the previous day in chipping away at the concrete just to dig that hole to set that behemoth post in more concrete...

I asked the man about it - I wanted to reassure him that if that post needed to be there that was fine - I would rather worry about my son running into it than the ceiling falling on him!  (smile)  He said no, he talked to his boss about it and there was another way they could do it.  They could change plans a bit and make it just as strong doing it another way.

Wow.

I guess most won't realize what a big "wow" that really is.

In my world - people don't go out of their way to help us, our son. Not when I ask them to, and most certainly not on their own when I haven't even asked them to!

In my world I hear, "We can't provide the education he needs..."  "We can't afford to educate his teachers in the way your son learns..." "We don't have any respite funding..."  "We don't have any respite providers...."  "We don't have a recreational program for your son's needs...."  "We don't know why your son is having seizures..."  "We can't cover this treatment that helps your son...."

In my world -- people don't move behemoth posts that they spent hours painstakingly picking through concrete to set.

In my world -- people don't go to bat for my son and contact their bosses to see if they can make an exception to the "norm" of how covered patios are built.

In my world -- my son's daily achievements over his daily challenges provide my "wow" moments more than people do.

But not that day.

On that day -- someone did go out of their way.

Someone other than my son did "wow" me.

You simply cannot imagine what it was like to see that post gone.

The total shock as I stared at where that post was and thought how he moved it for me.

The total amazement as I was reminded of another behemoth post and how HE died nailed to it for me.

WOW...

Don't Worry Choose Happy

The above is a picture of a bush at the end of the sidewalk leading up to my front door.  Brandon and I pass this bush each morning as we head into the tan minivan to be off to school.

It was odd how I came to focus on that bird yesterday morning.  When I opened the front door I heard it fly off quickly, as if it had been sitting on the chair by the front door waiting for us to come out.  When we stepped on the porch I saw it head down the sidewalk, stop briefly on my tan minivan, then continue on to that bush.  That bush that it seemed to know we would pass by.

Never before had a bird seemed to be calling me towards it, to follow it.  Typically, it's the mockingbirds who have a nest in our Oak Tree who dive bomb me thinking that I'm going to climb the tree and attack their baby birdies.  (Keep using my front porch as your port-o-potty and I might just do that.)

What a crazy week it was already -- three doctor's appointments for Brandon regarding two upcoming procedures he'll have to have in two different hospitals under general anesthesia.  (Far be it for anyone to get a clue about autism and actually work together, coordinate, to do everything all at once!) One at Memorial Herman for Dental Surgery under sedation to fix a broken tooth from a fall from a seizure, the other at Texas Children's Hospital for an Endoscopy and Colonoscopy with Biopsies to rule out any new issues other than the ones we already know of, that would be causing weight loss and increased bowel issues.

Ahhhh -- the life of "Life with Autism....."

Constant worry.

Constant threat of sadness.

So needless to say, as we were off for our first pre-op visit of that day, I didn't have the time nor desire to be bird watching.

Yet that bird's presence drew me in.  Even with Brandon and his humming and running around close to it in his typical "evade and escape" pattern of avoiding getting in the van, the bird remained still in that bush.

I allowed myself a moment to stop and look at it.  It was a beautiful scene with it being almost camouflaged by the bush. And I do love anything camouflage. I wondered if it would allow me to get close enough to take a picture. I took out my phone and dared to step closer and closer and much to my surprise the bird dared to let me.  One more step closer and I could have touched it.

Only God would send me a bird to wait outside my door to remind me, in all my worry with all I had to do this week and the coming weeks and with all that could go wrong in all of that --- to not worry.

Matthew 6:25
"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear.  Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?  Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?" 

Luke 12:6-7
Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies?  Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered.  Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.

Right before I snapped the picture of the bird, I noticed that where his eye should have been was a scab.

Only God could put an exclamation point on the end of that message by not only sending me a bird, but one who has a disability.

A bird much like my Brandon.

Good one God --

Good one.

(smile)

I won't worry.

I'll Choose Happy.

Autism Appreciation Day

I guess my whole issue with the Chic-Fil-A-pocalypse of yesterday is because I read so many posts about it being about "Freedom of Speech" and not any other issue. What makes it hard for me to believe that, is that I never saw one post on Facebook listing our Bill of Rights.  But I did see hundreds of posts listing scriptures against a certain lifestyle.

To me all yesterday did, was make a well off man even more well off.  He is a strong Christian who has strong morals.  The strongest kind - the kind that puts his Christianity before money.  No one does that these days.  The owner of Chic-Fil-A gives up millions more in profit just to abide by the Bible's principle of honoring the Sabbath and not being open for business on Sunday's.  All through my son Matthew's NWAL and USA competitive swimming swim meets when we as non-Sabbath-honoring sinners would be driving to a swim meet on a Sunday morning and would go through Chic-Fil-A drive thru forgetting it was Sunday and they were closed, -- we were starkly reminded of his beliefs.  We would have to turn around and go to Whataburger - a sinful business that is open on Sunday mornings.  Chick-Fil-A would have continued to thrive with or without yesterday.  The owner would have continued to expand his businesses without yesterday's showing because denying him a permit based on what those mayor's were basing their threatened denials on, would have been overturned in any court.

To me yesterday was about the already full feeding themselves more, while at the same time so many in America were hungry or starving.  It made a wealthy business, wealthier, - the hungry, hungrier, - and all people who sin remained all people who sin. 

But there are two mayors who have been shamed.

I don't know --- seems we could have fed the hungry and sent those mayor's some e-mails instead.

Was yesterday about freedom of speech per-say, or was it about freedom of speech as a Christian to even more emphatically say that a certain lifestyle is wrong?  Which did Christians put the exclamation point on yesterday?  I see it as the latter.  And all that came from that is a further divide and a bigger hypocrisy.  Seeing is how no Christian who ate at Chic-Fil-A yesterday was without sin in their own lives.
 
I'm writing this from the side of someone knowing how it feels to be pointed at.  Society has put their exclamation point of what they view as "normal" and "not-normal" on me and my son hundreds upon hundreds of times.  It was put on him at school in the form of being banquished to "Special Education."  It's put on me when I try to get insurance to cover treatments for his socially unacceptable "autism" rather than his socially acceptable "asthma".  It's put on us each time we go to a store and we're stared at, whispered about, or silently scorned because he drools, has an accident or meltdown, or hums too loudly.  It's already bad enough that the church in many cases is the worse about discrimination when they are to be the best at breaking down the barriers that divide us.  The church was not created to showcase the perfect.  It was created to house the homeless, heal the hurting, help those who need to be helped.  Welcome the unwelcomed, accept the unaccepted, and to do it in love as the hands and feet of Jesus in drawing the unbelieving world in and not as the voice of condemnation that drives them further away.

I guess I must not be a real Christian. 

While I do believe in Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior, and I do believe what the Bible says about any and all sin - I do not believe that believing that means that I hate all who do or believe other than what I do or believe.  I'm not sure when as a society that thinking happened, but it has definitely happened.  Where if you are a man who happens to own a Christian business and you publicly profess your views -- that it's turned into a hate-war.  Where if you don't believe that man's views, you must boycott and ban that man's business from your city just because of his beliefs.

We are to love people.

We are to have our own beliefs and moral code of conduct and uphold those beliefs by voting at the polls and by raising our families and running our non-profits, our clubs, or our corporations by those beliefs and moral codes. We are to live those beliefs and values, but not by condemning those who God told us to love. And certainly not in a way that pits "us" against "them" - when God loves both "us" and "them". And I don't think God meant that we have to boycott anyone who doesn't believe as we do. Otherwise, what would the point of  Jesus' birth and life on earth as a common (though perfect) man walking among common (imperfect) sinners have been?  All were sinners compared to him.  Yet he walked among them.  Was friends with them.  Broke bread with them.  Served them.  Slept in their homes.  Touched them.  Healed them.  Did he become influenced by them?  No.  Did he try to influence them by his example of love?  Yes.  He even washed the feet of the very person who would betray him - that betrayal that was the beginning of his journey to death on the cross. 

Even when all who he came to save rejected him, he still loved them and died for them.

He commanded us to disciple.

We have instead distanced.

As for me, I'm thankful for autism at times like this.

In fact, I'm claiming today as "Autism Appreciation Day."

My son cannot read, write, or even talk.  He doesn't understand religion.  He doesn't know about hate, intolerance, homosexuality, heterosexuality.  Thanks to autism he will most likely never, ever have the opportunity to even be married.  To anyone.  He doesn't understand about Freedoms or even who the heroes are who fought for and died to protect those rights he has no knowledge of.  He doesn't understand why you should eat somewhere for some reason, or why you shouldn't because of another reason.  He just knows that if they don't serve GFCFSF food, he can't eat there regardless.

He doesn't care what color the hand is that holds his. What language they speak or what gender they are.  He doesn't care what the religion is of someone who chases and tickles him.  He doesn't care if the person who helps him learn how to communicate has had premarital sex or extramarital sex.  He doesn't care if the person who wants to go for a walk with him has blue hair, piercings, and tattoo's - or not.  He doesn't care if they're smarter, faster, thinner, fatter, or prettier than him.  He just cares if they would be a real friend to him.

He doesn't care about Republicans, Democrats, Liberals, or Conservatives.  He just cares if the people attached to those labels are nice to him. If they respect him. If they protect him from harm. If they will serve him as their constituent too.

He doesn't distinguish between Baptists, Buddhist's, Muslim's, Methodist's, Christians, or Catholics.  He just cares whichever one will welcome and make a place for him at their church.

That's what keeps me sane in the insanity called "Life with Autism". Being constantly challenged to see the world and God through my son's eyes, not mine.

~~~~~~~

Today is the day after the Chic-Fil-A appreciation day.  Children are still hungry.  Every other basic human right in America is still being threatened without outrage. We are being genetically modified by vaccinations and food.  We are being doped and drugged by the Pharmaceutical industry.  Politicians and policies are being bought by their profits. We have skyrocketing debt, no money to give to organizations who help those who no one else will help, yet we collectively spent a small fortune supporting a business that was never, ever in danger of losing not one expansion possibility or ounce of profit.

And there are still 1 in 88 children, youth, and adults with autism. 

And as far as Christians and the church?

I know that I will remember yesterday as the day satan collected winnings on a bet made with someone about how on a Wednesday he can get more Christians standing room only at a fast-food restaurant than at a revival or prayer meeting at church.