Dear Churches...We Need You.

I need you.  WE need you.

You see, you are not only my family- you are my lifeline.  My son has High Functioning Autism Spectrum Disorder- a mouthful, I know.
He is sweet.  He is funny.  He is borderline brilliant.  He is not yet 3 1/2- yet he can read you his children's Bible, start to finish, unassisted.  He can write "xylophone" and "mother" and "queen" and any other word you throw at him- ambidextrously and in better handwriting than my 8 year-old.

He does not, however, call me "Mommy."  He does not understand potty training and is still in pull ups.  He won't eat the goldfish crackers you offer at snack time, because, well- who knows why.  Because his quirks and sensory sensitivities extend to his eating habits.
I know he shakes your expectations a little- if I wasn't his mother I would probably be a little confused by him as well.  But his hand flaps, excited vocalizations, and food preferences aren't any extra work, really.  To paraphrase Temple Grandin- he is most definitely different, not less.

The Golden Rule

I did a terrible thing a couple of days ago. As my daughter and I pulled out of the Target parking lot we saw a woman holding a sign. My daughter- whose reading skills continue to amaze me- saw that her sign said she had a newborn baby at home. I took a sip of my diet soda and kept driving, attempting to avoid eye contact as we passed her. I justified this by telling my daughter that I didn't have any cash on me, and that we had no way of knowing what this woman's situation really was. 

 Every word I spoke to her felt wrong to me, sending pangs of guilt to my core.

I want my daughter to know that we should always try to help.