Thank you to everyone who viewed and voted on the cover options for my soon-to-be-released book, “Optimism for Autism.” (Release date April 2, 2014.) Option #3 received the most votes (54), followed by #1 (29), and then #2 (13). Your comments about the covers were very helpful, and many of your suggestions will be incorporated into the final book cover design. Thank you for the time and thought you put into making our book cover the best it can be!
Congratulations to Beth Hill! Your name was drawn randomly from the names of those who voted on the book covers to receive a free PDF of the book. Please send your email address to optimismforautism@yahoo.com, and I will email you the PDF file.
I am including a sample chapter from my upcoming book with this week’s blog. Since the chapter has a reference to Valentine’s Day, I chose it for inclusion in my blog this week. Blessings to all of you as you “learn to see”!
Chapter 8: Learning to Truly See Others
“Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.”
—Philippians 2:3-4, NASB
I recently watched the movie “Avatar,” snuggled up with David on our couch. A futuristic movie set on an alien world with exotic life forms, Avatar features a marine who enters a community of indigenous people and tries to earn their trust and respect. A recurring phrase throughout the movie is, “I see you.” The native people speak the phrase to the natural life forms around them. They share the words with one another. Eventually, the marine and a local young woman exchange the words after they have had a serious argument. (Worthington, S., & Saldana, Z. [Actors]. [2009]. Avatar [Online video]. United States: 20th Century Fox.)
“I see you.” In the movie and in life, the words convey empathy and understanding, the ability to peer deeply into someone else’s heart and see the treasure inside.
I encountered my own “I see you” experience on a Wednesday night at church. We were having a Living Christmas Tree, and I took a big step in joining the choir. That meant I had to put Patrick in the nursery while I went to practice every Wednesday night for about 12 weeks. To be honest, it was just a desperate attempt to do something normal.
The experiment didn’t work.
About three weeks into our practices, I was walking down the hallway to pick up Patrick from the nursery, and I was intercepted by three small children running at full speed and broadcasting to anyone in earshot that “Patrick bit Amy!”
My stomach clenched. Occasionally, Patrick would hit, spit, or bite if people came into his space when he was in one of his zoned-out moments. The sudden sensory invasion would frighten him, and he would react strongly, trying to protect himself.
I had an immediate flashback to his three-year-old Sunday School class. I had walked Patrick into his room, smiling and greeting his two teachers. We were new to the church, and I was hoping to make friends fast, especially with those who would be working with my son. The older woman in the room greeted me coldly and said, “Do you see that little boy over there?” pointing to a cute, blue-eyed, brown-haired cherub, who was pushing a toy truck across the floor.
“Yes,” I said.
“Well, your son has bitten him twice. And if he does it again, he will no longer be welcome in this classroom!” she said harshly.
I froze. I had not heard about the biting at all.
“Okay,” I said.
I turned Patrick over to the younger, more pleasant woman in the room, who had a look of horror mixed with sympathy on her face, and I left, walking stoically to my own Sunday School classroom.
David appeared a few minutes later, after dropping off our daughters in their classrooms.
My mind had already travelled a long distance down the road of despair.
Why is Patrick having all of these problems? What am I doing wrong as a mother? Why can’t I help him? Will other people ever accept him and love him for who he is? Will he be kicked out of Sunday School? Does everyone think I’m a bad parent? I think I’m a bad parent. God help me . . .
“How did it go?” David asked.
That’s all it took. A flood of tears erupted, and I fled from our Sunday School classroom, not wanting anyone to see me. I made it about halfway down the hall before running into John, a friend of David’s from the choir.
“Susan? What’s wrong?” he said.
By then, I was sobbing. The kind of uncontrollable sobs that put your whole body into convulsions. I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t talk. All the frustrations and pain were finding release through my tears, and I just let them pour out.
I heard footsteps.
“It’s okay, John,” David said. I felt his arms around me, and I just melted into him. He ushered me off into a side room, and I told him the whole story.
“I don’t know what to do!” I said. “I don’t know how to help Patrick. And it hurts so badly.”
“Shh, shh. It will be okay,” said David, willing it to be so.
“Will it?” I said. “Will it ever?”
“Patrick bit Amy!” The words cut their way into my consciousness, interrupting that dark memory.
“Patrick bit Amy!”
I steeled myself for what might greet me when I entered the nursery.
There was Amy, crying and rubbing her arm, the teeth marks still visible and red.
Patrick was in the corner, oblivious. He had a red plastic cup perched on top of a spoon. He was rocking the cup with the spoon and tracking its movements with his eyes.
I knelt down beside Amy. Her mother Elaine had her arms wrapped around her petite, curly-haired daughter.
“Amy, I am so sorry that Patrick hurt you,” I said. “What he did was wrong, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him.”
Amy stopped crying, looked at me, and haltingly nodded her head yes.
Her mother sat there calmly.
“Elaine, I am so sorry,” I said painfully.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
No, it’s not, I thought. It’s not okay at all! Nothing is okay.
“Amy, we love you, and we think you are a wonderful little girl,” I said with a deep sadness.
I went over and stood near Patrick until he perceived I was there. I showed him the pictures of our van and our home lined up on his Velcro planner so he knew it was time to leave.
Sadness enveloped me as we walked to the car. My shoulders drooped. I wore defeat like a heavy, wet blanket. I believed the lie.
I AM a bad parent. I can’t help my son.
Three days later, a card came in the mail. It had Elaine’s name in the return address section. My fingers trembled as I tore it open.
I just can’t take any more criticism or harsh judgment, I thought. I really feel like I am at the breaking point!
“Dear Susan, I want to thank you for the way you comforted my daughter the other night at church. It especially means a lot to me because I know how much you have been hurting about your son. I just want to tell you that I think you are a wonderful mother, and I think you are doing a great job with Patrick. Love, Elaine.”
Tears had been my constant companion, and they were flowing again. But this time, they came for a different reason. Elaine’s kindness and compassion were allowing waters of hope and streams of healing to flow through my soul. Her encouragement was strengthening me to continue on this unknown road with my son, with my family.
I expected criticism, and I received love and encouragement. I expected resentment, and I found worth. It was God’s grace in its purest form because it required sacrifice. Elaine had put her feelings and needs aside and had embraced my world and my experiences. I have never forgotten her kindness, and I have kept her letter all these years. It was a love letter from the Lord sent by one of His faithful servants. It changed my life and gave me hope to keep going. Every time I think of that letter, I ask the Lord, Please help me to see past myself and to truly see others and what they are experiencing when I am hurt or offended. Help me to be Your voice of love and hope to those who need it.
In Philippians 2:3-4, NASB, it says, “Do nothing from selfishness or empty conceit, but with humility of mind regard one another as more important than yourselves; do not merely look out for your own personal interests, but also for the interests of others.”
That’s what Elaine did. She put herself aside and thought about someone else. She looked at me and said, “I see you.” The Lord used that moment to teach me a wonderful secret about life. Jesus said, “It is more blessed to give than to receive” (Acts 20:35, NASB). He would know all about that. He gave everything—His very life—for us, and He had joy in the midst of it because He was thinking of us and what it would accomplish for us (Hebrews 12:2, NASB).
The places of pain in my life have presented the greatest opportunities to learn and to become more like Jesus. I remember the lessons experienced in those places because of the pain involved. Those are the places where I must decide if I am going to trust Jesus and what He says. If I do, He blesses me in amazing ways. That has been my experience. I ask Him to give me eyes to see, ears to hear, and a heart tendered to His voice, because He is the One who sees and hears and loves completely and deeply. He is always saying, “I see you,” and we are most like Him when we do the same.
I have had the opportunity to share this truth with my children. When my oldest daughter Katie was a sophomore in high school, Valentine’s Day presented a real challenge for her. Ever since she was a little girl, she dreamed of falling in love, getting married, and having a family someday. But Prince Charming hadn’t shown up yet; in fact, she didn’t even have a boyfriend. At age 16, she didn’t want to hear about waiting for the right guy when she was already missing out on being in love. I mean, time was obviously flying by, and old age was just around the corner! Besides, “all the other girls” at school were chatting excitedly about what they were going to do for Valentine’s Day with their boyfriends and probably would be getting candy and flowers while Katie had to watch helplessly on the sidelines. That’s how she saw it.
“I hate Valentine’s Day!” she shouted, arriving home from school that day.
I knew why she was upset. She had already told me all about it.
“Katie. I’m going to give you an assignment,” I said. “I want you to come up with a plan to do something nice for someone else this Valentine’s Day. You aren’t the only one who is probably having a hard time with this holiday. Look around, and see what you can come up with.”
Katie was dumbfounded.
“But, Mom . . .”
“You have until Friday to come up with a plan,” I said. “I am going to ask you then what you have decided to do.”
I walked out of the room so she couldn’t argue with me.
Friday came, and I didn’t even have to ask Katie about it.
“Hey, Mom, do you remember the Bogles? You know, that nice young couple at church who had their first baby a few months ago?” Katie asked.
“Yes, I know them,” I said. They were a dear couple who had jumped into helping with the youth at our church even though they were quite busy with careers and a young family. I always appreciated them for that.
“Well, I bet they haven’t been out on a date since their baby was born,” Katie said. “I think it would be great if I and some of my girlfriends offered to cook them dinner and watch the baby while they went out to the movies on Valentine’s Day.”
“That is a fantastic idea!” I said.
Putting her usual passion into words, Katie said, “And I thought we could all wear white collared shirts and black pants and even serve them dinner after cooking it. I found some romantic music we could play, and I thought we could put some pretty flowers on the table too.”
Katie enlisted two girlfriends to help her. It turned out that “all the other girls” did not have dates after all. When she came back home after her night’s adventure, she couldn’t stop talking.
“This was the best Valentine’s Day ever!” she said. “We had so much fun. The Bogles were very grateful and kept thanking us over and over for giving them a date night. And that baby was adorable!”
“You’ve learned a very important lesson,” I told Katie. “God knows what He is talking about. It is more blessed to give than to receive. Remember that the next time you are upset about something. See if there is some way you can give to others in that situation.”
Katie paused reflectively. “Okay. I will.”
I have found that I am most unhappy when I am dwelling on me—my hurts, my needs, what I deserve. I am happiest and find great joy when I can do something to help someone else, when I can think about them and find a way to bless them. The Lord shows me things I can do, and I get to do them with Him. Sometimes, He lets me see the results, and we have a big celebration together. Other times, I find my happiness and joy trusting the results to Him.
Patrick’s Perspective: The members of my church have encouraged me so much. And I know they have been praying for me over the years. They have encouraged my family, too. I am grateful for the lady who sent my mom that note. Mom still has that letter, and that was 16 years ago. I am thankful that the people at church have been a family to my family . . . because I was not the only one who needed encouragement. The people in my mom’s Sunday School class, especially, have been extremely kind. They talk to me and encourage me and pray for me, too. That means a lot.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT:
Are you sad, discouraged? Why not ask the Lord to show you someone you can bless in His name?
Whom might the Lord be asking you to “see” right now?
