I've been reading poems and such and here are a few that I love.
Quiet doesn't always mean "shy"
A tantrum doesn't always mean "naughty"
Would you know if you saw it?
I. Blessed are those who stop and listen to my chatter. You may not understand me; but I love when people talk to me, for I long for companionship, too.
II. Blessed are those who take my hand and walk with me when the path is rough, for I easily stumble and grow weary. But thank you, too, for letting me walk alone when the path is smooth, for I must learn independence.
III. Blessed are those who take the time to tell me about special happenings, for unless you make special effort to inform me, I remain ignorant.
IV. Blessed are those who wait for me. I may be slow, but I appreciate your patience.
V. Blessed are those who are not ashamed to be seen in public with me, for I did not choose to be born thus. It could have been you as well.
VI. Blessed are those who do not pity me, for I don't want pity. All I want is understanding and respect for what I have learned as well.
VII. Blessed are those who notice my accomplishments, small as they may seem to you. I must work long and hard to learn many of the things you take for granted.
VIII. Blessed are those who include me in their games, even though I may not understand the rules, I still like to be included in your activities.
IX. Blessed are those who think of me as a person who loves, and hurts, and feels joy and pain just like you do, for in that respect I am normal.
Just For Today
Just for today, little one,
I'm going to forget that you're autistic
And remember that you're a child.
For this brief shining time,
I will only see the beauty of you and your world.
I will marvel at the spun gold of your hair in the sunlight.
How can anything be so impossibly brilliant?
I will see the blue-green of your infinite eyes
And not worry if they focus on me.
I will admire your concentration
And not mind that it isn't directed in the usual way.
Your smile and laugh will bring me joy.
It won't matter what caused them,
they are marvels unto themselves.
Through your eyes I will delve into the unseen,
Looking at the world with that perspective unique to you.
I will see your lines of leaves and stones
And share your happiness at their precision.
I will close my own eyes
And let the textures you explore overwhelm my senses.
Spinning in circles with you,
I will let go until all is lost but the dizzy.
Just for today,
I will close my books and ignore the research,
the worry, the 'shoulds' and the shadowy future.
You are my baby, my son, my love.
Today, we play.
Written by Delia Thompson
And Then God Created This Mother….
When the Good Lord was creating mothers, He was into his sixth day of 'overtime' when an angel appeared and said,"You're doing a lot of fiddling around on this one."
And the Lord said "Have you read the specs on this order? She has to be completely washable, but not plastic, have 180 moveable parts – all replaceable, run on black coffee and leftovers, have a lap that disappears when she stands up, a kiss that can cure anything from a broken leg to a disappointed love affair and six pairs of hands, ears that will hear things she doesn't want to hear, a mouth that can gently kiss away scrapes and bruises and yet tear the hide right off of those who try anything against the best interests of her child.
Yes, this model will have to be able to sit patiently and listen to outlandish reports about her child without flinching. She will have to hear how hopeless it all is and know that it isn't so. She will have to have those kinds of eyes which don't tear when she hears other mothers talk about how well things are going for their children."
The angel shook its head slowly and said, "Six pairs of hands, yet? No way." "It's not the hands that are causing the problems," said the Lord. "It's the three pairs of eyes this mother has to have." "That's on the standard model"? asked the angel.
The Lord nodded and said, "One pair that sees through closed doors when she asks, "What are you kids doing in there?" when she already knows. Another pair here in the back of her head that sees what she shouldn't but what she has to know and, of course, the ones here in front that can look at a child when he goofs up for the 99th time and say, "I understand and I love you anyway" without so much as uttering a word.
"Lord," said the angel, touching his sleeve gently, "come to bed. Tomorrow…" "I can't, answered the Lord, "I am so close to creating something so close to myself. Already I have one who heals herself when she is sick, feeds a family of six on one pound of hamburger and gets her nine-year-old to stand under a shower." The angel circled the model of a mother very slowly. "It's too soft," it sighed.
"But tough!" said the Lord excitedly. "You cannot imagine what this mother can do or endure." "Can it think?" asked the angel. "Not only can it think," said the Creator, "it can reason and compromise."
Finally, the angel bent over and ran a finger across the cheek. "There is a leak," it pronounced. "I told you that you were trying to put too much into this model." "That's not a leak, said the Lord, "it's a tear." "What's it for?" asked the angel.
"Tears are for joy, saidness, disappointment, pain, loneliness and pride… this model will know a lot about all that" answered the Lord, "But you know" He continued, "I don't even remember putting that tear there." "By the way", asked the angel, "what will you call this model?"
"I will call this one simply, the mother of an autistic child."