"No Dad... The Other Fries!!"

I'm raising a very challenging 15-year old. I know that's not unusual, since all 15-year olds throughout the history of the world (with the rare exception of this author) have been a challenge. But mine is a bit different than most, because we're raising a child with autism who doesn't speak and gets frustrated very easily. Again, the polar opposite of his father.

Anyway, I was driving him home after school today and we were having our usual one-sided conversation. "How was school today, Zachary? Did you learn anything? Did you go for a walk? Were you good for your teachers? Did you make any friends?" Silence.

"You know what? Daddy loves you very much." At this, he made the "please" sign by rubbing his hand on his chest. I'm not exactly sure what the sign for "please" is, but that's what he's learned. For him, it's come to symbolize not only "please," but also "yes" and "will you give me what I want?" Of course, I took it to heart. He was saying "I love you back" in the only way he knows how. That did it. I decided to take him out for french fries.

He and I hadn't been out together for a fast food break in ages. He loves fries. So I pulled into a fast food restaurant, but he was eying his favorite restaurant across the street. "Is this okay?" I asked him. He didn't seem happy. "Do you want to go to (insert name of restaurant which must not be mentioned)?" He took my hand and placed it gently on the gearshift. I took the hint, and we went across the street. I pulled in his favorite place and asked, "Is this okay?" I got the "please" sign again.

Okay, it's a little thing. I had my chicken wraps and Coca-Cola, while he had his usual two milks and large fries which he spread out all over the table. The fries that is, not the milk. He managed not to slop any moo juice. We had a good time together, and came home.

It's not often we make a connection like that. In fact, it's pretty darn rare. But I'll take them when I can get them, and treasure each one.

Maybe next time he'll let me pick the fast food joint.

Here Comes the Pillow Monster!!!!

I'm kind of selfish when it comes to my kid.

For years, I've struggled to come to terms with what I've "lost" because of his disability. I could go on forever about not being able to fully communicate with him, to tell him how much I love him, to play ball, tell jokes, or help him with homework. At different times I've felt lost, robbed, deprived and angry. But then I consider what I've gained. I've made a whole group of friends I never would have met otherwise. I've been given incredible opportunities to study leadership, influence lawmakers and lend a helping hand to other parents with similar experiences. And most of all, my son was the defining influence in my decision to press closer to God. I am where I am today due in large part to this thing we call autism.

Last night I preached about servanthood from Philippians 1:3-8, and what it is that a church can and should expect from their Pastor. I love to serve others. My joy comes from seeing others succeed, and knowing I played a small part in their success. I want to serve God wholeheartedly and help my church family in their faith walk. So I've come to realize that I need to apply that same servant attitude to my son. It's not about what I can get from him, but what he can get from me.

Tomorrow he has the day off from school. I found myself wondering what I can do to keep him occupied. So I made a mental list of the few things I know he enjoys... breakfast, car rides, Burger King, KMart and playing "Pillow Monster." (Don't ask). I'm slowly learning that my joy will come not from what he returns to me, but from what little I can give to him.

As long as my asthma inhaler is close by during Pillow Monster, I think I'll be okay.